**A Contemporary Interpretation of *The Dutchman* Struggles to Establish Its Voice**

Andre Gaines’ reinterpretation of Amiri Baraka’s 1964 piece *Dutchman* ventures into bold creative territory, though its success remains questionable. While the film’s ambition is praiseworthy, its execution frequently misses the mark, resulting in an engaging yet imperfect effort to adapt stage to screen. The original work, penned in the aftermath of Malcolm X’s assassination, delves into the fraught racial dynamics between a Black man and a white woman aboard a subway in New York. It addresses the larger societal challenges surrounding Black identity and self-awareness in America.

One does not need prior knowledge of Baraka’s oeuvre to appreciate the film, although it undeniably enriches the viewing experience. Gaines and co-writer Qasim Basir employ a metatextual lens, positioning the play as a pre-existing text within the film’s universe while simultaneously unfolding a parallel narrative. Instead of merely contemporizing the story’s political undertones, the film rationalizes its departures from the subway backdrop while preserving the fundamental tensions of the original work.

This tactic possesses both merits and drawbacks. Although it may not introduce groundbreaking political insights, its dedication to a six-decade-old text invites intriguing artistic inquiries. Nevertheless, the film struggles to clarify its close association with Baraka’s work, leaving its more profound significance just beyond reach.

### **What Is *The Dutchman* About?**

Following Clay (Jonathan Majors), a businessman grappling with marital issues alongside his wife Kaya (Zazie Beetz), the film charts their journey through therapy sessions with Dr. Amiri (Stephen McKinley Henderson), a character whose name bears notable weight. Right from the beginning, *The Dutchman* manifests itself as a self-referential adaptation imbued with hints of magical realism. Dr. Amiri offers Clay a copy of Baraka’s *Dutchman*, hoping it will aid him in confronting his identity crisis as a Black man on the brink of a political career.

Clay initially dismisses the book, but soon after, peculiar events begin to unfold. The film gradually alters its visual scenery—subtle changes in production design that the audience perceives, though Clay does not. Upon entering a subway train, he meets Lula (Kate Mara), a flirtatious white woman who appears to possess unsettling insights into his life. She insists on accompanying him to a gathering for his friend Warren’s (Aldis Hodge) political campaign.

During their subway journey and a diversion to Lula’s apartment, she seduces Clay while simultaneously assaulting his self-doubts. He grapples with her influence, but when he tries to leave, she weaponizes her whiteness, threatening to falsely accuse him of rape—a chilling allusion to the historical racial violence perpetrated against Black men, including the lynching of Emmett Till. The film introduces this tension early on, yet fails to escalate it in any meaningful way, missing a valuable opportunity for deeper resonance.

Eventually, Lula trails Clay to the party, where she encounters both Warren and Kaya. As his marriage and personal security hang in the balance, Clay must confront the racial anxieties that Lula incessantly incites. Concurrently, the enigmatic presence of Baraka’s play in his existence hints at a deeper link between past and present struggles.

Regrettably, the film’s investigation of these themes lacks depth. It acknowledges W.E.B. Du Bois’ notion of *double consciousness*—the internal strife of Black identity in a predominantly white society—but never fully immerses itself in this engagement. While *The Dutchman* appropriates Baraka’s language and structure, it falls short of bridging the radical ideologies of the Civil Rights movement with contemporary, more subdued discussions of race and identity.

### **How Does *The Dutchman* Link to Its Source Material?**

The film quickly positions itself as both a retelling and a modern reflection of Baraka’s work. The original *Dutchman*, along with its 1967 film adaptation by Anthony Harvey, is predominantly set within a single subway car. Gaines’ rendition frequently diverges from this locale yet consistently returns to it, reinforcing a cyclical narrative.

By invoking the notion of textual repetition—akin to Stephen King’s *The Dark Tower* or Hideaki Anno’s *Evangelion*—the film implies that the challenges of the past continue to endure in the present. Dr. Amiri, a clear analog for Baraka, strives to guide Clay through art, suggesting that literature may hold answers to these persistent societal dilemmas.

Though this idea is captivating in principle, it unfolds in a dry, theoretical fashion. Clay, whose name suggests adaptability, is molded by his surroundings, yet his journey is communicated almost entirely through dialogue. Lula defines his identity, and he replies accordingly, but the film seldom illustrates how he authentically navigates his world. Despite extending beyond the play’s limited setting, *The Dutchman* struggles to fully develop Clay as a rounded character confronting