André Gaines brings a bold psychological edge to his adaptation of Amiri Baraka’s iconic 1964 play with “The Dutchman,” a film that doesn’t shy away from examining America’s most uncomfortable conversations about race, sex, and identity.
The movie opens with a Carl Jung quote that sets the tone for everything to come: “Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.”
It’s an invitation—or perhaps a warning—about the psychological journey ahead.
Comparisons to Jordan Peele’s “Get Out” aren’t accidental; both films probe racial anxieties through genre conventions, turning social commentary into visceral cinema.
A Marriage in Crisis Sets the Stage
André Holland delivers a compelling performance as Clay, a businessman whose life is unraveling. The film wastes no time establishing conflict—Clay sits with his wife Kaya, played by Zazie Beetz, in front of their therapist Dr. Amiri, portrayed by Stephen McKinley Henderson.
The source of Clay’s visible distress? His wife’s infidelity has fractured their relationship, leaving him emotionally vulnerable and searching for answers.
This therapeutic framing device becomes crucial as the narrative unfolds, suggesting that what follows may be as much about internal psychology as external reality.
Enter Lula: Dangerous and Unforgettable
Kate Mara’s portrayal of Lula transforms the character into something truly unsettling. With stark pale skin, vivid red hair, and even brighter red lipstick, she embodies what Baraka once described as “a slightly nutty (wholly dangerous) white female bohemian.”
Their encounter on a subway train becomes the film’s centerpiece—a powder keg of racial and sexual tension wrapped in allegory and symbolism.
Mara brings an unnerving energy to Lula, making her simultaneously alluring and threatening. Every gesture feels calculated, every word laden with double meaning.
Reality Blurs With Allegory
Gaines, who co-wrote the screenplay with Qasim Basir, crafts a narrative where literal events and metaphorical meanings intertwine constantly. The subway becomes more than transportation—it’s a liminal space where Clay’s anxieties manifest and America’s racial history intrudes on the present.
The film is heavily symbolic, drawing from the Black Arts Movement’s literary tradition while updating its concerns for contemporary audiences. This isn’t straightforward storytelling; it demands engagement and interpretation.
Dr. Amiri offers Clay—and viewers—a key to understanding this approach:
Sometimes we find pieces of ourselves in literature that help us heal.
Sexual Politics Take Center Stage
Like Baraka’s original play and its 1967 film adaptation, this version doesn’t offer easy answers about the intersection of race and sexuality. The dynamic between Clay and Lula is intentionally complicated, messy, and provocative.
Their interaction raises questions about power, desire, performance, and authenticity. Who is manipulating whom? What roles are being played, and who assigned them?
The R rating stems from sexual content, language, and brief violence—all elements that serve the film’s thematic exploration rather than existing for shock value alone.
Drawing From Black Arts Movement Roots
What distinguishes Gaines’s approach is his willingness to dive deep into the archives of the Black Arts Movement. Rather than simply updating the story’s setting, he preserves its literary DNA while finding contemporary resonance.
Baraka’s original work emerged during a pivotal moment in American history, when Black artists were asserting new forms of cultural and political expression. This adaptation honors that legacy while speaking to today’s ongoing conversations about identity and systemic racism.
The filmmakers make a bold statement by choosing this material: sometimes looking backward helps us move forward.
Performance Anchors Abstraction
Holland’s performance grounds the film’s more abstract elements. His Clay feels like a real person caught in an increasingly surreal situation, making the psychological horror hit harder.
Beetz brings depth to what could have been a smaller role, while Henderson’s Dr. Amiri serves as both authority figure and guide through the narrative’s symbolic landscape.
The ensemble works together to balance the film’s theatrical origins with cinematic naturalism, creating something that feels neither too stagey nor stripped of its literary power.
A Film That Demands Engagement
“The Dutchman” won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. At 88 minutes, it’s economical with its runtime, but dense with meaning. Viewers seeking straightforward entertainment may find themselves challenged by its symbolic layers and uncomfortable subject matter.
Those willing to engage with its complexities, however, will find a film that respects their intelligence while tackling subjects American cinema often handles with kid gloves.
Gaines has created something provocative and purposeful—a psychological thriller that uses genre conventions to explore deeper truths about identity, trauma, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive.
In returning to Baraka’s seminal work, “The Dutchman” suggests that some conversations never truly end; they simply evolve, waiting for each generation to look inward and awaken.