When Pulitzer Prize-winning author Isabel Wilkerson (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) first conceived of the multifaceted premise that would eventually become the lauded non-fiction book “Caste: The Origin of Our Discontents,” her editors were concerned about whether she would manage to cohesively merge her personal experiences with all the moving parts of her research across cultures and continents to prove that it all interconnects.  
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That’s in turn the same task that writer-director Ava DuVernay faced to convey the big-picture ideas and Wilkerson’s revelatory odyssey to put them on the page in an enticingly cinematic manner. To form a fluid narrative from all the threads, the filmmaker employs a non-linear structure enhanced with magical realist vignettes and historical reenactments to emotionally drive home the writer’s thesis that it’s not race that has divided humanity for most of its timeline, but the imposed hierarchies that systematically deem certain groups inherently inferior. Race, Wilkinson argues, is only a characteristic used to justify this.
The filmic reimagining, “Origin,” introduces Wilkerson at a speaking engagement not long after the 2012 murder of Trayvon Martin at the hands of George Zimmerman. The chilling audio from the killer’s call to emergency services plants the seed in her to consider writing on the subject of such ingrained hatred. But it’s the unthinkable double impact from the sudden death of her supportive husband Brett (Jon Bernthal) and her mother’s passing that prompts the prominent scribe to seek not only answers, but closure in her diligent work. Each of these loved ones offered a perspective on the issue that she must fold into it.
Wilkerson’s thorough investigation into the implementation of caste systems is presented in vivid digressions to specific events in the past with voice over narration from her text explaining their significance. One of these features a German man in love with a Jewish woman during WWII. While another follows a Black American couple present in Berlin at the time of the Nazi’s 1933 book burnings. They return to the American south under Jim Crowe laws to examine how the dynamics of power function in a segregated society.
DuVernay transcends the academic nature of the material via imaginative swings of fancy that immerse us in Wilkerson mournful mindset: a quiet literally grounding passage shows her laying down in a black void with Brett by her side as autumnal leaves fall around them.
Through every ambitious transition between the then and the now, as well as between the story’s reality and the inventive flourishes, the contributions of cinematographer Matthew Lloyd and editor Spencer Averick imbue the segmented approach with a unifying quality.
The former mines arresting imagery from each environment, even those that communicate suffering, while Averick applies a lyrical rhythm. Take for example a sequence, at once spiritual in tone and visually breathtaking, where Wilkerson enters a temple in India as she deals with yet another loss. Some scenes come off as slightly too overt about their didactic intent, such as one that includes Nick Offerman as a MAGA-hat wearing plumber, but for the most part DuVernay walks a balanced line between disseminating Wilkerson findings with utmost clarity and forging the appropriate storytelling grammar to dissect them vividly.
In Ellis-Taylor, the director found a beacon of determined grace. As the sorrow-stricken Wilkerson, the Oscar-nominated actress (“King Richard”) exudes monumental gravitas through which we understand that her character’s pursuit for truth goes beyond mere professional curiosity but is instead fueled by an unwavering conviction. She must make sense of the world in order to comprehend her role in it, now that her earthly anchors have passed on. Whether stating her certitude that Nazi officials took cues from American endogamy laws or casually discussing the intersections of her deductions with Wilkerson’s cousin Marion (a memorable Niecy Nash-Betts), Ellis-Taylor ‘s presence enthralls.
On her trip to India, where caste remains a determining factor in a person’s fate, Wilkerson meets with Dalits, the lowest ranking group in the social strata. Considered “untouchables,” they are destined from birth to clean toilets. A stature of Dr. Bhimrao Ambedkar, a Dalit hero who the restrictions of his circumstances and studied abroad, stands proud in a public square but inside a metal cage to protect from those who detest them solely based on caste.
Later, when Wilkerson engages with the childhood memories of Black artist Al Bright, it’s evident that viewing segments of the population as “untouchable” isn’t a region specific ill. Denied access to a public pool while his little league teammates enjoyed a refreshing dip, Bright sat outside watching the fun happened without him. The solution offered is worse. A heart-wrenching gut-punch, the scene evinces an abhorrent absurdity in the far-from-isolated incident and how it negatively and permanently altered the boy’s outlook on life.
DuVernay presents the author’s mind-blowing conclusions through a devastatingly poetic montage that intertwines unshakable images of Black individuals stripped of their most essential humanity as cargo during the transatlantic slave trade with those of a Dalit submerged in human feces and only granted compassion by others in his exact situation. That’s when the movie reaches its affecting peak and when we can fully assimilate the magnitude of what DuVernay has accomplished with “Origin,” illustrating how these forces of division, which we forcefully inherited, have reverberated across time and space.
But rather than assimilating the newly gained awareness on this pervasive evil’s root causes as proof of our collective defeat, “Origin” upholds the knowledge as the hopeful first step towards a fresh start. That optimism is first expressed when Wilkerson’s mother (Emily Yancy) describes what she sees in a cloud formation to her daughter’s initial skepticism—only in time does this gesture’s meaning bloom. Though we are often made to feel powerless, both Wilkerson and DuVernay believe that perhaps if we can see in the sky what’s missing here on earth, there’s a chance we can somehow bring it down to reality. [A-]
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