There are limits to how many poeticisms a film can reasonably support, and after a fairly entrancing two-thirds, Medicine for Melancholy finally uncovers them. Barry Jenkins’ debut feature has a black-and-white palette and a romantic narrative fixated on skin color, as the day-long escapades of Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins) touch upon, if not overtly address, their status as part of the seven percent of San Francisco’s African-American population. However, before the two can discuss their minority conditions (and differing outlooks on it), they must first meet-cute, which takes place on the hung-over morning after a hookup at an acquaintance’s party. In his opening sequence, Jenkins proves an assured, astute chronicler of believable details and atmosphere – the awkward shared glances between Micah and Jo (when, that is, they manage to look each other in the eyes); their respective brushing of teeth with their fingers; the slow, dazed gathering of clothes and accessories on the way out the door. It’s a mood-setter par excellence, and the film remains perceptively attuned to its characters’ situations once they depart, with Micah vainly attempting to strike up conversation (by trying to learn his aloof one-night-stand’s name) and then – after they abruptly separate – tracking her down to return the wallet she left in their cab.
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