James Baldwin wrote “If Beale Street Could Talk” in 1974. At the time, his novel was urgent and necessary. Unfortunately, the film adaptation of the novel, directed by Barry Jenkins and released in 2018, is no less urgent and no less necessary than it was 45 years ago, a disheartening reality Baldwin likely envisioned. Jenkins’ “If Beale Street Could Talk” is profound, affecting and essential.

Jenkins starts “If Beale Street Could Talk” with a quotation from Baldwin. Baldwin explains, “Every black person born in America was born on Beale Street, born in the back neighborhood of some American city, whether in Jackson, Mississippi, or in Harlem, New York. Beale Street is our legacy. This novel deals with the impossibility and the possibility, the absolute necessity, to give expression to this legacy. Beale Street is a loud street. It is left to the reader to discern a meaning in the beating of the drums.” This opening quotation frames the film, which depicts a specific narrative as a means for exploring the richness and complexity of black life under the stress of societal injustice. The characters in “Beale Street” are defined by their humanity—to quote a Baldwin essay, their “beauty, dread, power”—but are forced by racist institutions and individuals to suffer for the blackness of their skin.

“If Beale Street Could Talk” opens with the formidable love between Tish (KiKi Layne) and Alonzo, better known as Fonny (Stephan James). In subtle and efficient visual storytelling, Jenkins conveys the strength of their bond. Then, he devastates his audiences and flashes forward. Tish speaks to the audience through voiceover, “I hope that nobody has ever had to look at anybody they love through glass.” Glass separates Tish and Fonny when they meet in prison. Fonny is incarcerated after a false rape accusation and Tish is pregnant with their child. Glass keeps Tish and Fonny apart physically but cannot contain their affection. “Beale Street” recounts Tish and Fonny’s romance and the efforts of Tish to free Fonny from his undeserved fate.

Jenkins’ technique for filming the developing romance between Tish and Fonny is an exquisite triumph of subjective filmmaking. When Tish and Fonny look at each other, Jenkins films them in focused close-ups looking directly at the camera. If Fonny is on screen, then the audience is Tish. If Tish is on screen, then the audience is Fonny. The audience can feel the intimacy, because the audience participates in the relationship.

This style of filmmaking requires the most emotive performances. Layne and James absolutely deliver. Notably, every performance in the film is excellent. Regina King has rightfully earned substantial praise for her role as Tish’s mother, but she is only one element of the year’s best supporting ensemble. Colman Domingo, Teyonah Parris, Michael Beach and Aunjanue Ellis are also similarly excellent in their respective roles. In a pivotal early scene, Jenkins unites the ensemble together so that Tish can tell Fonny’s family that she is pregnant with their child. This scene is alternatingly funny, heartwarming and disturbing. It is the sort of tonal rollercoaster that only works with the most astute performances. The scene succeeds because Jenkins trusts his actors completely and the actors make the audience feel their characters’ joy, pain and resistance.

Jenkins’ directing complements his actors’ efforts. He dresses his characters in warm colors and bathes the screen in full natural lighting to accentuate their subtle features and gestures, he commissions orchestral scores for each character and he moves his camera to reflect their emotional states.

The film has two sublime scenes that Jenkins captures with aplomb. The first features—for my money—the film’s standout performance from Brian Tyree Henry. Henry plays Fonny’s close friend, Daniel Carty. Carty was recently released from prison and tells Fonny what his experience in prison was like. His monologue about perpetual fear is truly gut-wrenching. Jenkins shoots the conversation with disorienting camera work that creates a sense of unease that haunts the rest of the film. The sequence illuminates the centrality of fear in the black experience, an idea Baldwin often returned to in his novels and essays. This fear is pervasive but not unconquerable. Baldwin’s characters find the strength to overcome fear in love.

An important sub-plot in the film is Tish and Fonny’s search for an apartment in New York City. After months of apartment hunting to no avail, finally Tish and Fonny find a Jewish man willing to let them live in his apartment. This is the second scene that deserves distinction. Fonny and Tish imagine their future together. They contemplate making a brave decision for love and plan what their future apartment will look like. Under Jenkins’ gentle direction, this sequence is gorgeously done with sweeping camera movements, tender dialogue and long takes that give the actors the room to perform uninterrupted. Afterwards, Tish and Fonny celebrate in the streets. Jenkins’ editing and graceful handheld camera movements create cinematic magic that leaves the audience in a dizzying bliss.

“If Beale Street Could Talk” is about love, the forces that threaten to destroy it and the bravery of those that love and sacrifice for love. With “Beale Street,” there is too much to ponder, discuss and marvel at. Essays could be—and hopefully will be—written on the film’s score, sound design (especially the sound of the subway), use of color, understanding depiction of the rape victim and occasional application of the video essay format. To paraphrase Baldwin, “Beale Street is a loud street. It is left to the viewer to discern a meaning in the beating of the drums.”

“If Beale Street Could Talk” is elegant and lyrical filmmaking. It cements Jenkins as one of the finest filmmakers alive. In my opinion, it is one of the best films of 2018.