Natchez
It’s always a bit shocking to see someone’s bigotry on full display in a documentary, especially when they’ve come across as genteel and polite throughout the rest of the film. But two of the men of Natchez, Mississippi that director Suzannah Herbert interviews in her documentary have moments so blatantly “mask off” in their racism that it takes us by surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t be that surprising, though; after all, Herbert’s documentary is about how the Deep South hasn’t reconciled with its racist history, and she uses this small town in Mississippi as the flashpoint for that discussion.
Throughout “Natchez,” we are taken on a tour of this town of 14,000 people, what it was in the 19th century and early 20th century, and what it is now. Once a major hub for cotton production, a natural disaster in the 1930s caused the town to pivot to tourism; at first, the Garden Club was going to show off the plantation’s flower beds, but after a rain makes that impossible, they turn to making the homes themselves the attraction. Now, the town rises and falls on tourism, but what type of story is it telling about itself? The mayor, Dan Gibson, would like to see it be fully inclusive of that history, but a lot of its residents- including many of those giving the plantation tours- don’t see the need to bring up an ugly past.
I’ve lived in Georgia more years than I lived in Ohio. I’ve been to Stone Mountain and Savannah several times over the years. It’s only in the past several years that I really have started to think about the history of what those places represent. One of the reasons white supremacy, and racism in general, has been allowed to continue to fester in this country is because we never have reconciled with the white supremacist roots that grew this country. Stealing the land of the Native Americans who were here before any European landed. The chattel slavery of Black men, women and children that was enshrined in our founding documents, and was never properly admonished after the Civil War, allowing Reconstruction to fail, and Jim Crow to rise in the south. Does this mean we would be without racism now if this had occurred? Of course not, but maybe the conditions would have been set for white supremacy to surge back the way it has in the past decades. “Natchez” crystalizes this disparity simply by showing it unfold in front of our eyes.
Herbert has chosen some good people to follow in “Natchez.” The mayor certainly has his moments, but when we finish the film, we think about people like Debbie, who owns a plantation home that’s been renovated for tourism; the difference with hers is, it housed slaves. David is the gay, elderly owner of Choctaw Hall, an elegant home that is a favorite stop of tourists for his flamboyance, but we’re left shocked by his leaning into bigotry. We get two people named Tracy in the film; one is a recent divorcee who likes to dress up in the antebellum fashion of the time, and another is a Black preacher who gives his own tour, including taking people to the “Forks in the Road” national monument, which represents one of the busiest slave markets in the country. Across the street is a white auto mechanic who would rather forget the past than learn from it. A lot of people in the town would rather do the same. You can guess their color.
“Natchez” is a beautifully filmed, and emotionally painful, reminder that this country has a long way to go before it can move forward without forgetting the past that led us to where we are now.
