Directing: A-
Acting: A-
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A-
Editing: A

Origin isn’t so much an adaptation of the 2020 book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, by Pulitzer Prize-winning American journalist Isabel Wilkerson, as a telling of the story of Wilkerson, clarifying the ideas for and then writing that book.

It’s a clever conceit, which works surprisingly well, as it then works as Wilkerson herself, portrayed wonderfully here by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, presenting her thesis and arguments, both to her family, friends and colleagues—many of whom take some time to understand what she’s getting at—and to us as the audience. The basic premise is that American racism does not exist in a vacuum in the world, but is rather an aspect of caste systems with common pillars in many societies.

Specifically, though, she finds “connective tissue” (her words, or at least her character’s words in this film) between the legacy of American racism dating back centuries to enslavement; the Nazi demonization of Jewish people; and the persecution of the Dalit caste, historically regarded as “Untouchables” in India. And there are some mind-blowing revelations in there, which present irrefutable evidence of that connective tissue. Documented evidence of the Nazi Party in Germany using American Jim Crow laws as a blueprint for what they did, via legal processes, to the Jewish people. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s visit to India informing the commonality between “Untouchables” there and the dehumanized status of Black people in America.

Origin features a minor flaw overall, one that informs a separate discussion about the nature of adaptation. It may very well be that writer-director Ava DuVernay has presented us with the best film version of this story, and these ideas, there could possibly be. That doesn’t change the fact that reading a book about all these things is far more likely to dig deeper, more permanently into our brains. I have not read the book, and it seems clear that I should. On the other hand, I am also, like many other people, getting the most immediate, and possibly the only, direct exposure to these concepts via watching this film.

And this film, while arguably a little slight on plot, is packed with scenes that are likely to stay with you a long time. Consider the conversation Wilkerson has with a couple over dinner during a visit to Germany. This German, White woman argues to the American Black woman that the Holocaust and the American legacy of slavery are too different to be compared, that they are not based on the same underlying precepts. She clarifies that slavery is about subjugation, and the Holocaust was about extermination. This conversation could perhaps have been better informed with more direct reference to the American genocide of Indigenous people, which absolutely was also about extermination.

What Wilkerson argues is that, whether it’s subjugation or extermination, it’s the pillars of caste ideology that gets used to justify the action. One of the great things about this film is how it lays out this argument, but allows us to spend some time pondering them. This is not a film spending time insisting on its rightness, but making its case. I even left the screening I attended not having taking it in quite the same way as the person I saw it with.

Origin has a fairly lengthy, 141-minute run time, with an even pacing that justifies it. It opens on Trayvon Martin (Myles Frost) walking the neighborhood after visiting a convenience store. It explores the concept of “endogamy,” the practice or romance or marriage as limited only to within one’s own defined clan or tribe, partly through Wilkerson’s own interracial marriage to the late Brett Hamilton (Jon Bernthal). Wilkerson is encouraged by her editors (one of whom is played by Vera Farmiga) to write something about the Trayvon Martin case, while she is considering a hiatus to take care of her elderly mother (Emily Yancy).

There’s a particularly memorable scene, of Wilkerson with her husband and her mother, discussing the Trayvon Martin case. Isabel and Brett argue that Martin should never have had to answer to another man questioning his presence walking through a neighborhood, a sensible argument. Isabel’s mother argues that if Martin had just answered the question, he might well still be alive, also a sensible argument. In a later scene, we see an interaction between Isabel and a plumber (played by Nick Offerman), investigating a flood in a basement. The plumber is wearing a red MAGA hat, and Isabel quite understandably looks upon him with unease. Still, she connects with him by mentioning her late mother, and asking about his parents. The scene seems simple on the surface, but it presents the same question: Isabel diffuses tension by taking the initiative to connect, but should she have to?

Origin spends a significant amount of time on the three societies Isabel Wilkerson explores, with conversations with “real people” in her personal life at home (including her cousin, played by Abbott Elementary’s Niecy Nash, and a close friend pointedly named Miss Hale, played by Audra McDonald), as well as extended visits in both Germany and India, wildly different societies with commonalities of oppression that are all too easy not to see.

It would be a fascinating exercise to see particularly how this film plays with German, Indian, or Jewish audiences, as it explores very disparate histories, and then connects dots, between them. These are issues very personal to people, as with the White German woman who is unable to see the similarities—something Isabel’s cousin also struggles with. This all just provides Isabel Wilkerson multiple opportunities to clarify her thesis, which the film Origin then imparts to its audience very successfully. It provides a huge amount of provocative food for thought, and I left the theater feeling very grateful to have been presented with it.