The Last Black Man in San Francisco

It's an independent film with a difference, but not as emotionally engaging as you'd really like it to be.

Fails and Talbot's writing follows no script doctor's convention. The direction reveals no obvious influences.

It's less of a rallying cry against gentrification than a rumination on the kind of pained acceptance those who suffer its effects must face.

It's beautifully filmed and perfectly played. The final shot is as epic as it is heartbreaking.

The men behind The Last Black Man in San Francisco aren't trying to be cool or sleek. That's the last thing on their minds and probably explains why they do such a fine job of standing out from the crowd.

While Talbot and Fails avoid turning their homespun homesick story into an unwieldy and self-important metaphor for Black American Experience in total, creeping bloat makes itself felt elsewhere.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco is an auspicious first feature, and Talbot and Fails are young artists who posses the talent to convey their ambivalent feelings towards, and the inherent poetry of, “The City by the Bay.”

... The movie has quirks that might try your patience a little: its heroes are prone to hipster-ish flights of fancy, yet it offers both fine craftsmanship and comfortable warmth.

The movie is a window into the human experience from some truly enlightening perspectives. And even during some of its slower moments it never loses that effect. It makes the film’s final shots more tragic and the sting of it will stick with you for days.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco is a visionary film that’s an absolute stunner.