Tribeca Review: “Cinnamon”

Writer/director Bryian Keith Montgomery Jr.’s stylish debut feature film Cinnamon is described as recalling 70s Blaxploitation films. Naturally, this requires some unpacking of that subgenre, whose name was coined literally from a portmanteau of the words “black” and “exploitation.” As much as Blaxploitation movies—whose stories usually revolved around crime and graphic violence—centered around empowering Black heroes (a sure departure from the mammy figures and comic sidekicks who proliferated mainstream Hollywood films for much of film’s first several decades), their plots often centered around stereotypes held by white people, especially when it came to drugs and violence. Moreover, many Blaxploitation movies were made by white people for the Black audiences frequenting long-standing urban theaters as white audiences pushed out toward the suburbs, “exploiting” their viewership for profit (there were exceptions to this, of course, such as Gordon Parks’ Shaft and Melvin Van Peebles’ ground-breaking independent feature Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song).

But in the time since then, many Black filmmakers have put their own spin on the genre. With Cinnamon, Montgomery effectively combines some of the hallmarks of Blaxploitation movies—graphic violence, over-the-top villains, a funky soundtrack—with a storyline that is a bit more complicated than mere revenge (vengeance is what fueled some of the most famous Blaxploitation movies, such as the Pam Grier-led Coffy and Foxy Brown). Unfolding in chapters that glide between the past and present day, Cinnamon draws the viewer in immediately with a tense prologue focusing on Jodi (Hailey Kilgore), a young Black woman who works at a gas station. She spends the slow, late-night hours alone, checking out the occasional customer, sweeping up around the pumps outside, stocking shelves, and watching the clock. She becomes noticeably nervous as the hands move closer to midnight. A man enters the store just as she’s getting ready to shut everything down. Then another man enters. And a robbery occurs, leaving one man dead and another man to run off with all the cash in the register and safe.

This wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill theft, however. The film backtracks after its explosive intro, and we watch Jodi meet Eddie (David Iacono), a classmate from the past, on a bus. The pair are immediately drawn to each other. Jodi, as it turns out, is an aspiring singer and actress, but she’s been working at the gas station so long she reflexively states that as her occupation first and foremost. Eddie’s reveal is a little more startling, yet intriguing: he’s a crook, engaging in petty thefts, bringing the items he steals to a fence in exchange for cash. Beguiled by Jodi and her beautiful voice, he uses his connections to set her up in a makeshift studio to record a song. The pair fall for each other—and on hard times—fast, so Jodi proposes a big job with a surefire payday that will allow them to blow this town together: Eddie will rob the gas station while she is on duty, making it look good for the cameras, and then they’ll get away with the cash. But the unexpected appearance of the third man complicates things, as does gas station owner Wally (Damon Wayons), who has—unbeknownst to Jodi—been using the store as a front for some shady dealings. Soon, Jodi and Eddie find themselves in over their heads and facing the wrath of Mama (Pam Grier).

Cinnamon (the title is derived from Jodi’s stage name) is strongest in its first half, as each new chapter peels away new layers to the story, building on what came before. Kilgore (who was nominated for a Tony Award in 2018 for her role in the revival of Once on This Island; this is her first lead movie role) and Iacono strike up believable chemistry with each other, and Montgomery’s script takes its time fleshing out their relationship and also what is driving them to commit to this robbery. Despite an opening bit just post-robbery that suggests a very different dynamic that what we actually get, Jodi and Eddie remain sympathetic throughout; they appear to truly forget the violent turns their scheme took, and are frightened of how in-over-their-heads they’ve gotten. Damons is a bigger-than-life delight, his personality played more for comedy than menace (he also runs a car dealership and stars in a hilariously corny commercial for it) but Grier is truly chilling in a mute role; her character communicates only through sign language, or by lifting the tinted lenses of her sunglasses one-by-one to wink her eyes. The film is a little less effective in its finale, however; Jodi and Eddie are split up for a stretch of time, with perhaps a bit too hard of a swerve into the bad guys’ machinations, and it all leads to a finale that comes off as rather lackluster and abrupt considering the care put into the build-up to it.

Montgomery clearly draws inspiration from the 70s and Blaxploitation movies for much of the costume and production design, especially when it comes to the villain characters. Wally wears a colorful suit; Mama has her hat and glasses that keep her inconspicuous. Of course, the inclusion of Grier, one of the original faces of the Blaxploitation genre, is a homage as well, and she’s quite good in the role, communicating so much—sadness one minute, ferocity the next—only with her eyes. But Cinnamon doesn’t carry those Blaxploitation influences beyond an aesthetic choice. The plot and dialogue isn’t particularly provocative, nor does it deal directly with issues of race. This isn’t necessarily a negative; the absence of prominent white characters on screen allows the minority performers to shine in a narrative in which the protagonists, at least, are not fueled by rage toward their oppressors, but hope for a better future. Cinnamon may lack the bite of the movies it’s trying to honor, but Montgomery proved to be skilled at genre filmmaking; and on top of that, it’s just a real good time.

Cinnamon had its world premiere at the 2023 Tribeca Film Festival on June 11, and will be available to stream on Tubi on June 23. Runtime: 91 minutes.