The People’s Way
(USA, 75 min.)
Dir. Ashley Tyner, William Tyner
Section: American Perspectives/U.S. Competition (World Premiere)
In 2020, the world was shaken by the murder of George Floyd at the hands of police officer Derek Chauvin in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Although it was far from the first (or last) display of police brutality against Black Americans, Floyd’s death – circulated widely via videos on social media – became a catalyzing moment that thrust the Black Lives Matter movement onto the global stage with renewed force after it first gained attention in 2014 following protests in Ferguson, Missouri over the murder of Michael Brown. Many Americans were, for the first time, confronted with the notion of defunding the police in lieu of more socially-minded approaches to maintaining public safety. It has been four years since this cultural reckoning and, although the 24-hour news cycle has momentarily taken its focus off of the issue, the fight is far from over. It is simply persevering at the local level.
Take, for example, the corner of East 38th Street and Chicago Avenue in Minneapolis, the site of Floyd’s murder. In the weeks following his death, it became a memorial for people to leave tributes and gifts of remembrance. However, the site quickly escalated into what locals dubbed “George Floyd Square,” two fully autonomous city blocks barricaded from street traffic and local police. Leading the effort is Jeanelle Austin, a local activist and caretaker of the square, who strives to transform the area into a safe space for her neighbours to connect with one another, share resources, and express their traumas. Local detractors wonder if the square’s lack of police presence leaves it open to further gun violence, however Austin claims that people should ask a different question: “What does a world beyond policing look like?”
This question is the key to unlocking The People’s Way, the directorial debut of sibling filmmakers Ashley and William Tyner. The film follows three Black women who are community leaders in Minneapolis – the aforementioned Jeanelle Austin, City Council nominee Robin Wonsley, and racial justice advocate Toshira Garraway – and their interweaving efforts to chart a new path forward for their city in the fight against police violence. Wonsley, a socialist, campaigns on a reimagined Department of Safety that relies on community workers to de-escalate city violence, like mental health professionals as opposed to armed cops. Garraway leads the group Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence (FSFAPV) and their efforts to seek justice for the deaths of their family members, primarily through legal repercussions against the officers responsible for Floyd’s murder.
As the Tyners follow each woman’s years-long saga to bring change to their communities, they inevitably capture the highs and lows that come with that process. Austin, Wonsley, and Garraway are each distinct and compelling personalities who confidently and elegantly push through adversities but not without room for vulnerability. In one scene, Garraway’s gravelly but commanding voice booms over a protest crowd with resonant chants like “we have nothing to lose but our chains” and “no justice, no peace.” In another, she breaks down sobbing on the anniversary of her fiancé’s death, who was found dead in a local dumpster after an encounter with police officers. In one scene, Austin speaks to an enthusiastic crowd about the beauty of George Floyd Square. In the other, she witnesses fellow community members collude with the government to de-barricade her sacred space in real-time. Wonsley, after crying happy tears at the news that she has won her independent race for City Council, must contain herself when a recount threatens her underdog victory.
The Tyners put all three arcs in conversation with tonal and narrative ease, so much so that the choice to have brief interstitials with all three women in one room discussing their work feels almost unnecessary. Although it’s good to see the women share space, the roundtable appears infrequently and is so clearly staged that it feels antithetical to the film’s guiding visual aesthetic. The Tyners, who serve as both co-directors and co-cinematographers, utilize a refreshingly on-the-ground, stripped back vérité style that does away with cinematic artifice. It feels like a throwback to the kind of unpolished, urgent work that filmmakers like D. A. Pennebaker trailblazed in the ’60s, less concerned with polished framing and most focused on getting right up in the action. For example, multiple scenes have Garraway’s unyielding face in close-up, engulfing their sound equipment with battle cries. Another scene finds George Floyd Square suddenly ringing with the sound of gunfire, leading to everyone ducking to the ground, including the camera. The siblings let these kinds of images speak for themselves, giving them a power that far overshadows their visibly limited resources.
Much of the film’s power comes from its assured belief in its subjects’ principles. However this does not mean the Tyners let them go unchallenged. In fact, the film serves as a larger deconstruction of what many would assume to be a monolithic community. One notable scene sees a community member, Mileesha Smith, express cynicism over people placing value on Chauvin’s trial verdict. “It’s not about the verdict,” she says. “I’m waiting for the change.” And yet, when he is proclaimed guilty on all three counts, including second-degree murder, the crowd can’t help but cheer. For a brief moment, justice has been served. In another key moment, Wonsley sits in on a community debate about her reformed policing system and watches as members clap and cheer the dissenting opinion. The “Black old guard,” as described by Wonsley, believes her system is unproven and that the police can still protect the community. All of these feelings can co-exist, and the Tyners juxtapose them with editorial precision.
By the film’s harrowing end, in which we sit with static shots of several headstones of the Say Their Names Cemetery in George Floyd Square, The People’s Way ultimately shines as a stirring document of what it takes to preserve community in the wake of unending violence. It doesn’t sugarcoat the complexities of the work, but it does provide hope in its subjects’ resilience in the fight. Perhaps the most powerful image of this is found in the film’s opening moments, as community members erect a statue at the front of George Floyd Square of a clenched, raised fist – the symbol of Black Lives Matter – made of weathered steel. Austin notes that this material is “basically indestructible,” serving as a metaphor for the movement for Black liberation. “It is an indestructible fight.” To this day, the statue stands at the corner of 38th and Chicago, just as the fight for justice continues across Minneapolis, the United States, and the world. Hopefully, the Tyners will be there to capture it all.
