The prime mover of the movie Keanu is a kitten of the same name. Keanu the kitten (“I think it means cool breeze in Hawaiian,”) is apparently irresistible and seduces with cuteness anyone who holds it, leading the cast on a chase scampering from scene to scene and owner to owner. From vicious contract killers, to Mexican druglords, to black gangsters to regular suburban guys, everybody wants the kitten.
Those regular suburban guys however, are not so regular. They are Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele, creators and stars of the now concluded Comedy Central sketch show Key and Peele. Key and Peele is very funny, though perhaps with a rather uncomfortable humor for a white person. As the duo have said (in this excellent essay by Zadie Smith) some of the humor is meant to “terrify white people.” For Key and Peele “blackness” is a fairly abstract concept. It’s on a spectrum and can be turned up or down, as if with a volume knob. The world that they have populated is diverse with white, Latino, and Arabic characters, but it’s their portrayal of various types of black persons across age and class strata, where the diversity becomes nuanced, trenchant and complex. The trouble for your average white person (me) is that the humorous portrayal of these exaggerated racial stereotypes (such as this one or this one) seems to reinforce the stereotype. We laugh at it, while at the same time asking: should we be laughing at this?
That discomfort, however, is diminished, or left behind, by the sheer volume of personas. Key and Peele are able to play anybody, from old black ladies, to manipulative girlfriends to white sportscasters. For Key and Peele identity is fluid, be it gender, race or class. Who you are is something that is in flux; you are constantly adjusting the levels of masculinity/femininity, education, race, in order to fit in. Key and Peele (and yourself) are empty vessels inhabited by multiple identities collapsing into one another. In the movie Keanu, this fluid identity is deftly embodied by the kitten flitting from context to context. The kitten, who has a disease wherein it will remain a kitten forever, symbolizes just that slippery, constant mode of becoming.
All the more unfortunate that the movie isn’t very good. Much like Saturday Night Live movies from the nineties, the movie would be great if it were only 15 minutes long. Simple as the story is—get the kitten—the clunky mechanics of plot drag it down. There are funny bit scenes where Key and Peele, have to “adjust their blackness” turning more “gangster” by turning up the swagger and crass language. Or scenes where Honda mini vans are made out to be badass, or reinterpreting George Michael in a black context. But too often the viewer will find herself looking at her watch. What is the point of this scene again? Despite a few moments of brilliance, it amounts to just being a basic pet movie.
For fans of Key and Peele (I am one) you can be sure that whatever they do next will be surprising.
Forest is a carpenter/writer living in Minneapolis. He writes a weekly horoscope for Revolver. Those can be found here. Follow him on Twitter @interrogativs
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