Director Karen Chapman is no stranger to tales that explore the ways violence can ravage a community. In her documentary short films such as Walk Good and Quiet Minds Silent Streets, she tackled both a mother coping with the loss of her children and a Toronto community using meditation to curb gun violence. In her dramatic feature debut Village Keeper, Chapman continues to build on the themes of grief and healing through the eyes of a mother struggling to shoulder the reverberating weight of violence from the past and in the present.
If you were to ask teenage siblings Tamika (Zahra Bentham) and Tristin (Micah Mensah-Jatoe) to describe their mother Jean (Olunike Adeliyi) in one word it would be “overprotective.” Keeping a firm grip on her household, Jean knows the various dangers that lurk outside of her mother’s (Maxine Simpson) Lawrence Heights apartment complex. After all, it is a place where the landlord doesn’t have any sense of urgency when it comes to cleaning up the blood in an elevator days after a stabbing occurred.
Taking it upon herself to mop up the various blood-soaked reminders of latest rash of violence, Jean tries to bring a sense of dignity to the community she is temporarily living in. While circumstance may have forced Jean and the kids to move back into her mother’s cramped apartment, she is determined to save up enough money, even if it means juggling two jobs, to get her family out of their current situation. Of course, pulling oneself out of quicksand is a lot harder to do when one is too blinded by fear to see the rope.
Jean may project a stern exterior but within houses a rather fragile soul. One that is still reeling from the tragic loss of her husband and the heavy secrets she is too afraid to let out.
In observing Jean’s attempts to supress her grief and fears into an emotional jar that is too full to seal, Chapman shows how trauma can often leave people in a static state. Jean is so consumed with holding her family tightly to her chest that she unable to look down to see how she is smothering her children who have their own traumas to navigate. This includes Tamika’s bout with panic attacks and the sense of isolation and growing rage inhabiting Tristin.
While the layers of tragedy the family members are individually dealing with is occasionally spread on thick, due to several moments of unnecessary exposition, Village Keeper is ultimately a tale of hope and healing. Chapman’s film works best when she lets the vibrant images speak for themselves. Whether using flashbacks to shine a light on the horrors of the past, or quietly observing the bold steps Jean takes in practicing self-care, including letting herself have a moment of euphoric joy at the Toronto Caribbean Carnival, the emotional beats resonate with a sense of authenticity.
Chapman’s ability to balance the delicate tightrope of emotions the film walks is aided by the sensational performance by Olunike Adeliyi. Already amassing a rather impressive resume of performances, Adeliyi brings Jean to vivid life. Fully of complexity, but never feeling like a mere victim, Jean serves as the perfect representation for all the mothers who refuse to be defined by the tragedies they have experienced.
An emotionally resonating work, Village Keeper finds strength in those who are holding up their communities in the face of hardship. While simultaneously reminding audiences that even these pillars need to practice self-care as it is a crucial vehicle on the road to healing.
