Waiting for Bojangles (2021) - Review

Waiting for Bojangels grabbed me from its very first second. The film doesn't warm up or ease in; it dives head-first into chaos and dares you to keep up. It's messy, beautiful, and completely unashamed of either quality. I loved that the filmmaker wastes absolutely no time letting us know who these people are. Georges and Camille burst onto the screen as if they've been spinning in their own private whirlwind for years, and we're just now catching a glimpse.

What starts as a romance quickly spills over into something bigger. They stop being just a couple and become a family - an unconventional one, sure, but a loving one all the same. Bringing a child into that whirlwind adds this bittersweet undercurrent: the highs are intoxicating, but the cracks are impossible to ignore. There's a tenderness in the way the boy absorbs the chaos, almost as if he's learning life through the rhythm of his parents' dancing.

The film itself becomes a kind of emotional rollercoaster. It thrills you, lifts you up, spins you, and then drops you from a height you didn't realise you'd climbed. The cinematography helps with that - every frame feels alive, almost vibrating with colour and texture, like the film is trying to keep pace with the characters' energy. And the emotions... they're raw, ecstatic, sometimes overwhelming, but never dishonest.

By the end, I felt wrung out in the best way. Waiting for Bojangles is the kind of story that celebrates the beauty of living freely while quietly warning you about the cost. It's romantic, heartbreaking, and visually stunning - a dance you're not quite ready to stop, even when the music finally slows.