In order to prevent dating the reviews I write, in general, I try to avoid discussing current events within the confines of these articles. But, sometimes context can’t be ignored and I’d argue that a film like An Occurrence at Arverne just hits differently right about now…

I’m writing this in June 2020 (when I first screened Arverne). The United States is at war with itself—reckoning with an identity forged in racism…of wounds that never quite seem to heal…of wounds that continue to fester. As we watch protests and marches that are fighting for the same thing that protests and marches fought for over 50 years ago, it’s a bleak reminder of the old adage: history does, in fact, repeat itself.

Generally, I have a distaste for “issue” films wherein the sole purpose is to instill outrage. It often feels manipulative, or even worse, finger-wagging. If you have that response to An Occurrence at Arverne, I won’t fault you (it’s a film that divided our curatorial team). But, I’d argue there’s a subtlety, restraint, and humanism here that elevates writer/director Robert Broadhurst’s work beyond yet another liberal “head nod” piece.

As that lengthy preamble eludes, this is a film about racial prejudice. But, it gets there in an indirect way—a nuanced look at how a simple misunderstanding can actually be linked to something innate and much darker. All this to say, Arverne isn’t a bummer to watch (as so many films dealing with the topic tend to be). In fact, it deftly messes with expectations, challenging our objectivity as viewers and creating both subtle humor and tension to the events on screen.

The “language” of how the opening sequence of the film is shot leads us one way, and so, if we choose that path, what does that say about ourselves? Who is this hoodie-sporting Black man and why is he creeping around this house? How quickly do we jump to conclusions and why?

Those opening moments do feel manipulative, I’ll admit—a “writerly” set-up for dramatic irony that becomes clear about halfway through (not surprising for a film with a title that alludes to Ambrose Bierce’s eminent twist short). Still, though, it’s hard not to be taken by the suspense of it all—to see how easily an innocent act can be misconstrued as something nefarious.

I also respect how the protagonist, Marcus (Curtiss Cook Jr), isn’t simply a vessel for conveying the issue at hand. He feels like…well…a person: funny, clever, and self-aware. As a film that is dealing with perception and how it is driven by race, I was surprised by the legitimately funny beats and well-timed comedic edits (“don’t eat anything!”).

Then, of course, there’s the conclusion. Thankfully, Broadhurst uses restraint here. As the film shifts our expectations and forces us to confront our implicit judgement of the protagonist, it subtly weaves an ominous sense of danger; there’s almost an inevitability to the fact that things will end poorly. But, the moment we’re expecting—the sound of police sirens, a gun shot—never comes. Rather, we’re left to hang in the unknown.

Why do we feel such dread as that door closes? Is it because, in that moment, the difference between being white and being a person of color comes so sharply into relief..how such a simple and innocent act carries such different meanings based on the color of the hand that grips the doorknob?

And, so, as the door closes we are left only with silence, forced to grapple with the horrors that we, as Americans, uniquely know to be true.