1 hr 40 mins, Sheffield DocFest

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Mesmerising tale of intriguing small-town personalities questions America’s cultural myths.

Natchez was the second documentary I saw at Sheffield’s renowned DocFest last week and this clever, understated, very human film really encapsulates what I think a documentary should be. Though director Suzannah Herbert and cinematographer Noah Collier have a distinct and astute filmmaking style that’s evident throughout, Natchez is unshowy and unobtrusive. The sometimes lovable, sometimes hateable but always intriguing protagonists are allowed the space to tell their own stories, making Natchez not only incredibly watchable but also a considered study on whose history we choose to remember.

Natchez is a small town in Mississippi that looks like it might have come from a picture book: its gorgeous setting and close-knit population live up to the ideal many might have of the rural American South. That’s certainly how it’s seen by the owners of its many beautiful Antebellum-era mansions, who regularly don period costume and welcome tourists eager to get a glimpse of a supposedly glamourous slice of America’s past. Not recounted on these tours is Natchez’s horrific history of slavery: in addition to having Black slaves work in many of the local residences, Natchez was home to the Forks in the Road, one of America’s biggest slave markets that saw thousands of men, women and children sold as chattel. Over the course of the documentary we hear from a range of Natchez’s inhabitants and learn very different versions of the town’s identity and history. 

Herbert and Collier are clearly skilled filmmakers, with an eye for aesthetic beauty and a knack for creating a natural rhythm within the story. Events unfold slowly and deliberately, with Herbert and Collier cleverly applying elements like score, framing and mise-en-scene to bring us into the fantasy world these cosplayers have created for themselves. But though there’s a clear cinematic style being applied here, the real trick Herbert and Collier pull off is in making it all seem so natural. The filmmakers’ presence is rarely felt, allowing us to be drawn completely into the lives of the subjects – and the effect is mesmerising. 

I’m not sure if it’s a credit to Herbert’s interview and research skills or just thanks to good luck, but she’s managed to find a cast of characters that are intriguing and incredibly watchable. Perhaps the most prominent is Rev, a pastor and local tour guide with a passion for sharing African American stories and explaining the link between past oppression and current injustice. Rev is articulate and informative as well as warm and witty, and Herbert cleverly uses his tours as a backbone for the narrative. Bringing wry humour mixed with raw intelligence is Debbie, a Black woman who has inveigled her way into the local garden club but upsets the apple cart by offering tours of her own house – a former slave dwelling. Even the subjects who we might expect to be cast as the stereotypical villains of the piece – the white folk who profit from Antebellum tourism – are given depth and nuance. Whether it’s the idiosyncratic David or the sweetly naive Tracy, these people are fascinating to watch because Herbert avoids the easy get-out of portraying them in only one light.

That’s not to say that Herbert sits on the fence here or avoids showing the truly ugly beast of racism when it rears its head (which it does, of course). Quite the contrary – the film not only recalls the horrors of slavery but exposes the direct, unbroken line between that history and racist attitudes today. Herbert said in the post-film Q&A that her idea for the documentary arose from her own discomfort at being invited to a plantation wedding, and Natchez is pretty unequivocal in its view that romanticisation of the Antebellum period whitewashes the ongoing generational trauma of slavery. But Herbert offers a light directorial touch, and allows that contention to be delivered by the protagonists themselves, in their own words – particularly the Black protagonists, like Rev, Debbie, activist and storyteller Ser Boxley and local park ranger Barney. Furthermore, by offering a more complex, nuanced portrayal of the Antebellum era fans, Herbert is able to ask deeper questions. Natchez doesn’t just expose these traditions for their inherent racism; it explores why their appeal persists and why so many people are reluctant to give them up. 

If the film has a flaw it’s perhaps that the last third feels a bit less structured than the first two. Herbert stated she spent months filming in Natchez and it feels as though the later scenes are a bit of a mixed bag of all the fantastic footage they had on file and needed to somehow squeeze into the documentary. It’s a sin that’s easily forgiven though because by this stage we’ve become so invested in the protagonists that we’re eager to see as much of them as we can. 

In my first DocFest review, I expressed admiration for the worthy subject matter of The Stringer but questioned the overt presence of the storytellers in the film. Perhaps this is more a reflection of my own preferences than an objective comment on the films, but I feel Natchez works precisely because it takes the opposite approach: Herbert presents her subjects without interruption, admiration or admonishment. She doesn’t need to add that kind of commentary; they expose who they are by their own words and actions, for better and for worse. Herbert’s documentary style is to question, rather than impose a narrative, and in doing so she is able to arrive at insightful conclusions about racism, division, and the myths of the American South.