Within the hallowed halls of Winchester University, the fictional Ivy League school created for Justin Simien’s Dear White People, black students are frequently disenfranchised by their white counterparts. This trend doesn’t sit well with Sam (Tessa Thompson), the host of an inflammatory talk radio show that shares the same title as the film, and provides her a forum in which she’s free to admonish her fellow students for their behavior.
Sam’s ex-boyfriend Troy (Brandon Bell) exists at the opposite end of the spectrum, a charismatic and well-spoken politician whose father (Dennis Haysbert) is the dean of students, and whose persona has been built on the perfect combination of popularity and social connections. But when Sam unexpectedly usurps Troy as the president of Armstrong Parker House, a traditionally all-black dormitory, her militant approach to race relations creates conflict for just about everyone, prompting the leader of a white residence hall (Kyle Gallner) to retaliate by sponsoring a tasteless “black themed” party.
Also involved in the turmoil are Lionel (Tyler James Williams), an awkward geek struggling both with his sexuality and his assignment to a house full of arrogant, ultra-privileged white guys who view him as their personal instrument of amusement; Coco (Teyona Parris), a reality TV wannabe who spends most of the film chasing after fame and trying to disassociate herself from her fellow black students; and Reggie (Marque Richardson), leader of the Black Student Union and described by the star as a cross between Malcolm X and Do the Right Thing‘s Buggin’ Out.
Nearly everyone in Dear White People is harboring a secret – some much more than others – and one of the most frustrating things about the film is that many of these secrets seem to be in direct conflict with the makeup of the characters that are keeping them. It becomes increasingly difficult to identify with any of the protagonists when their actions seem to lack all logic and rationality, essentially defying the things we’ve come to know about them over the course of the film.
That’s not to say that Dear White People is a bad film, because it certainly is not. It’s intelligent and funny, and features top-notch performances from its four leads. All of the correct elements are in place, but much like its characters, writer/director Justin Simien’s film seems to struggle with its identity, and therefore never really finds a cohesive voice. Then again, maybe that was the point?