The Forty-Year-Old Version Review

The Forty-Year-Old Version
Radha (Radha Blank), a single, once-hot playwright approaching 40, is struggling to stay relevant in a theatre world still being managed by gatekeepers from New York’s white, liberal elite. Inspired to return to her early passion for rapping, Radha’s creative voice emerges right when her authenticity is tested.

by Hanna Flint |
Updated on
Release Date:

09 Oct 2020

Original Title:

The Forty-Year-Old Version

In this climate of remakes and reboots, it would be easy to assume The Forty-Year-Old Version was a gender-swapped adaptation of the 2005 Steve Carell comedy — but that couldn’t be further from the truth. For Radha Blank’s semi-autobiographical directorial debut has more in common with the indie filmmaking of Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig, early Woody Allen and Spike Lee. As with Frances Ha, Manhattan and She’s Gotta Have It, this comedy posits the artist’s experience at the narrative’s centre, with New York playing an integral supporting character and the story delivered through a black-and-white lens.

The Forty-Year-Old Version

Blank, a writer for the TV remake of She’s Gotta Have It, gives another nod to Lee by littering the action with various still images and segment interviews with Harlem locals as well as breaking the fourth wall, and yet, her perspective still feels exceptionally new. Hollywood so rarely affords plus-size Black women hitting 40 the chance to be the protagonist of their own movie, let alone its romantic lead, so it’s invigorating to see the filmmaker, playing a heightened version of herself, serve up a captivating and desirable hero to root for.

The film is never more jaw-droppingly astute than when Radha is spitting bars as her alter-ego, RadhaMUSPrime.

Movie-Radha, whose artist-mother has died a year earlier, just wants to get her stage-play, ‘Harlem Ave’, produced. But she’s torn between staying true to her authentic self — by going with a Black theatre company who won’t pay her properly — or allowing the liberal colonialism of white producers and directors dictate the lens through which she is supposed to caricature her community. This internal conflict is felt in every moment of the film, from awkward rehearsals and excruciating fundraising events to testing moments with her opinionated drama students. Then there are the supporting characters who force Radha to confront her issues: Oswin Benjamin is quietly charming as her young music-producer love interest, D, while Peter Kim delivers the real talk as her long-suffering best friend and agent Archie with subtle depth.

But the film is never more jaw-droppingly astute than when Radha is spitting bars as her alter-ego, RadhaMUSPrime. With tracks like ‘Poverty Porn’ and ‘FYOV’, Radha adds a formidable layer of lyrical wit to a story that will very truly nourish the soul.

Endearing, erudite and dripping with humour, Blank serves up an authentic commentary on the artist’s struggle, from a perspective too often ignored, and delivers a lyrical love letter to New York.
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