A Journal for Jordan
SONYAlthough Denzel Washington is far more comfortable in front of the camera than behind it, A Journal for Jordan provides the Oscar-winner with another bit of experience behind the camera. He surely needs it after turning in this Michael Jordan-led disaster. A hammy performance from the eponymous lead sees a look back through the journal of Charles Monroe King, who creates a journal of advice for his young son. A sound concept, and based on the bitter and human truths that seek out the real qualities of emotion. So many have tried, so few have succeeded. Washington and the ensemble he collates here are not part of that few.
Slipping back to 2007, the suits and dull tones of The New York Times’ offices come out of nowhere and leave little impression. Washington tries to replicate some dull, corridor-pacing, back-and-forth dialogue that Aaron Sorkin would cringe at. A Journal for Jordan is as vague as it is broad, neither come together with particular control or effort. It is not the performers at fault but the scripting and the pace. Washington is still finding his footing as a director, but his work here is too lifeless to ever make a start on something insightful for these characters or engaging for an audience. Chanté Adams leading role is dull and relies on the distance between her and Michael B. Jordan, whose inclusion within A Journal for Jordan feels more like a burst for the film title rather than a project he can offer anything to. Well, aside from his namesake. But even then, he and Adams are completely unrewarding.
Much of that is because A Journal for Jordan, for all its personal touches and message of bringing a family together in times of tragedy, is completely banal and unfocused. Washington fails to convince his audience that these characters are real. They are reactionary proponents to ideas or events that appear important to the fabric of history. By cementing the modern American family and the cultural shakes and impact around them, Washington fails to understand that the real key to unlocking a story like A Journal for Jordan is by having people come together with real heart and soul. Adams and Jordan are never convincing enough to provide depth to the distance between these two sore and wounded characters, and although their isolation from one another makes sense to the narrative, Washington does little to capitalise on the time they spend together.
Spending time with this budding family, their past and present, their dreams and ambitions, is dull. Washington has turned the charms of the real world and the passion it holds into something generic and troubled. Awful not just because of its rotten, emotionally stringent core but because these actors and this director are known for their quality. They have provided it time and time again, reliable draws for an audience working their way back to the big screen. If this is the quality household names like Washington and Jordan provide, then there is little hope for their future. A Journal for Jordan quickly becomes a guidebook on how not to draw on the emotive tones of true stories.