The Unicorn Scale: Passing

By Jennie Roberson

December 07, 2022

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“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

That’s the line that my favorite, most storied coffee cup declares to the world in a playful, enticing tone. Though it’s meant in good fun and led to a good example of being out that brought me strength in my personal life, not everyone can be out safely — not just in sexual orientation, but in other marginalized identities. Can there even be safety in hiding? Or can that safety be only one part of the solution to a larger problem, one that comes with its own risks and payoffs but can still corrode someone’s soul?

These are the questions that will likely rattle around the brain of audience members of Passing, starring Tessa Thompson (#Bi2) and Ruth Negga. Others — likely anyone with a heart, who has been othered, or whose identity doesn’t fall neatly into preconceived racial, class, or sexual identities by mainstream society — will feel incredibly seen and understood. Which is why I wanted to bring this deeply felt drama to the attention of this column.

Before I get too deep into dissecting this 2021 film, I should go over a few particulars — namely some disclaimers and content warnings. First and foremost, there will be SPOILERS within this review so I can more thoroughly discuss the plot and the characters. Second, there are a few content warnings people should be aware of, including but not limited to: racial slurs (both antiquated and, unfortunately, hate speech still used in modern days), racism, discussion of a lynching (never seen), death, and potential portrayal of dying by suicide (depending on artistic interpretation). 

If you are concerned there may be other triggers I did not cover, you can double-check at this site. This is a very grown-up film about thorny topics, so take heed to be in the right mindset. Finally, if this is your first time around this column, a full description of the metric we used can be found here.

Passing is a romantic drama on Netflix, based on the 1929 novel of the same name by Nella Larsen and adapted for the screen and directed by Rebecca Hall. It focuses on Irene/“Rene” (pronounced REE-ney, played by Thompson), a light-skinned Black woman in 1920s Harlem who runs into childhood friend Clare (Negga), a childhood friend who is passing for White without the knowledge of her husband, racist banker John (Alexander Skarsgård). As the two bond and examine each other’s lives after their chance run-in, their identities, and how they live and move through their worlds come into question.

What I Liked:

There are a lot of rich, nuanced themes in Passing worth exploring — racial passing and its ethical/moral implications both within and outside of historical context, colorism, exoticism, classism, when (even if) to start having the conversation with children of color about how American society will perceive and treat them differently to name just a few — and they are all explored with intelligence and empathy by both filmmakers and artists alike in this piece. And those are very much worth others watching and digesting and coming to their own conclusions. I found them quite moving, probing, and insightful, but also fully acknowledge that as a white woman, this review is not about my opinion on those matters.

Instead, I’d like to focus on the bisexuality that we see on display between Rene and Clare. These two characters are both fully realized characters with hopes, fears, and desires while also remaining in many ways mysteries to each other, filled with unclear answers to each other's unasked questions. That includes their feelings towards each other, so clear to the audience as homosexual desires that at least Rene, our entry point to the story, doesn’t know what to do with. This gets underlined in lingering shots that emphasize the queer gaze — Rene taking in Clare in her dress at the dance when she isn’t looking, Clare stealing glances and uttering sentences with deeper meanings when she feels she can safely get away with them.

Passing also makes sure to show that while Rene and Clare’s feelings towards each other are complicated (to say the least), their feelings and desires towards their respective husbands are valid and just as complex. Rene’s growing estrangement to her husband, Brian (André Holland) is woven with both desire, boredom, security, and jealousy at different points in the narrative. 

Image/Netflix

As a counterpoint, there is a certain kind of love Clare has for her handsome but horrid John, but clearly, she longs for time amongst the community members she grew up with — and knows the risks of staying with him even if he finds out about her being a Black woman. Rene doesn’t know what to do with the jealousy she feels towards Clare, at times letting her concern about Brian’s growing closeness with her friend give her pause on certain actions that may possibly have prevented the ultimate tragedy that unfolds in the final scenes. (I have my own theories on what happened at the scene at the window, but I don’t want my interpretation to tinge others’ conclusions, as it ultimately determines the taste the movie leaves in the viewers’ mouth about the story and deserves to be arrived to without my persuasion.) 

Do we like seeing jealous bi people of color in mainstream cinema? For me, not necessarily — BUT there is so much more going on with these characters than just base emotions that are usually assigned to queer movie characters that it instead pulls them into a Messy Bi category, which is fine by me.

Image/Netflix

What I Didn't Like:

Not a damn thing, as far as bisexuality is concerned in its portrayals here. There are some other elements at play here that are common in early 19th and 20th century Black literature which have their own trappings, and I acknowledge that. However, it is not, to me at least, to the detriment of the film or its important themes, as the study is complex enough that no character escapes the narrative without deep consideration.

Even the movie’s pacing, which rankled some critics and viewers alike, didn’t bother me, considering the treasure trove of character studies it provided.

The Rating:

Okay, sure, no one uses the term “bi” anywhere in the dialogue or often even in the summary of Passing. But being queer is a huge part of a rich mosaic that this movie turns out to be. Larsen’s novel is considered a seminal work in Black literature, and its cinematic counterpart should not be considered any less. Here we have a real grown-up film about intersectional identities, those who inhabit them, and how they would move in different worlds. And that includes their bisexuality in thoughtful, considered ways.

Sometimes you can’t always “come out, come out, wherever you are” because of who you are. Passing understands that, and is not afraid to examine this conundrum of a fate.

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