Queen & Slim. MA15+
The date at a diner wasn't going well. She had only responded to his request on Tinder after a bad day at work. His attempts at conversation were getting a curt response, his easygoing manner was irritating.
They would soon discover just how different they really were. He is a teetotaller and a devout Christian, who wears a crucifix and drives a car with the registration plate TrustGod. She has no truck with religion.
She is a defence attorney, an excellent one, mind you, and it isn't completely clear what work he does. Perhaps he sells shoes. There is a collection of boxed Nikes in the boot of his car.
The only things that Queen (Jodie Turner-Smith) and Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) do appear to share besides profiles on Tinder, is being residents of Ohio and African-Americans.
Turner-Smith is a relatively recent arrival but Kaluuya made his name in the smart, brutal horror film Get Out. Like this film, Get Out has something serious to say about contemporary race relations in the US.
Queen and Slim are not, by the way, the real names of the protagonists, but everyman and everywoman descriptions. Their real names are revealed at the end.
It's the colour of their skin that prompts an aggressive encounter with a white police officer while Slim is driving his date home. Something is said about swerving and failing to indicate, but it's a set-up. Queen and Slim are cooperative and reasonable, but this law enforcement officer is only looking for an excuse to use his gun.
He finds one. As Queen retrieves her mobile to record the event, telling the officer all the while what she is doing, he fires at her. Slim and the policeman wrestle to the ground, the gun slips out of the policeman's hands, and the precipitous descent into a life and death situation concludes with the policemen lying on the ground, lifeless. Slim used the officer's weapon to shoot him in self-defence.
From bitter experience as a defence attorney, Queen knows exactly what to expect from the Ohio justice system There's nothing for it but to leave the scene and take to the road. While heading south along the highway, they might come up with a plan.
It's no coincidence that their journey begins in Ohio, the point at which escaped slaves who had travelled the "underground railroad" in the 19th century, could leave its network of support for freedom.
When the fugitives run out of fuel after crossing into Kentucky, an off-duty sheriff gives them a lift. He is all cheery bonhomie until he realises whom he has on board his pick-up. A black Bonnie and Clyde.
Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty made counter-culture heroes of the outlaw couple in the 1960s film Bonnie and Clyde and inevitably, Queen & Slim invites comparison with the iconic Arthur Penn film.
But the similarities are superficial. The original couple, whose Depression-era crime spree across the American South ended in a hail of bullets, were small-time criminals.
Although Queen and Slim agree to have their photo taken in front of their car, just like the original Bonnie and Clyde in the 1930s, they are, a law-abiding couple. Queen and Slim are caught up in the climate that has seen innocent black Americans die at the hands of police.
Once the couple are on the road in their sleek blue Pontiac, dressed in gear they found at a brothel where they hid briefly, their new look fools no one. They are folk heroes known to all. The cop who was shot was a bad cop. They have appeared on YouTube in film uploaded from a Dashcam and have become celebrities among their own.
As they make their way through the backblocks on their way south, they are safe, protected and supported by the poor black communities. They even find a moment to dance to the blues, and the freedom to fall in love.
Music is the language of the director Melina Matsoukas, who has won multiple top awards as a director of music videos. Her feature debut here with screenwriter Lena Waithe, also a black American, is striking. Activist cinema that combines charismatic leads, stylish visuals and great music usually never looks and sounds this good.