NEW YORK (AP) 鈥� Elegance Bratton is sitting on a park bench in Washington Square Park. Just to the east is the New York University building where he studied film. A little to the west is the Christopher Street Pier where Bratton, at 16, found a home among other homeless, gay youths after his mother kicked him out of their New Jersey apartment for being gay. The first time he held hands with a boy was here.
鈥淚鈥檝e been homeless on these streets. I鈥檝e been starving on these streets. I鈥檝e not had train fare to get back home on these streets,鈥� Bratton says. 鈥淭o walk here now, there鈥檚 a lot of triumph. This little path from here to the pier was where I cut my teeth.鈥�
The path that Bratton, 43, has taken to this moment is by any measure remarkable. Within days of meeting a reporter on a recent bright fall day, Bratton鈥檚 an autobiographical drama about his experience in boot camp as a Marine, made its red-carpet premiere uptown, at Lincoln Center, at
Such heights might have once been unthinkable for Bratton, who spent a decade homeless before enlisting with the Marines as a way to win back his mother鈥檚 affection. But for Bratton, who grew up rehearsing his moment in the spotlight and practicing his red-carpet walk, it鈥檚 more like realizing a very hard-earned destiny.
鈥淲hat we鈥檙e doing right now, I鈥檝e done in the shower by myself probably since I was 7 years old,鈥� Bratton says, chuckling. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like being reborn into one鈥檚 dreams. When I was homeless, almost in this very spot some 20 years ago, I remember saying a prayer that I could thrive. I had no idea that at that moment, God had already said yes.鈥�
鈥淭he Inspection,鈥� which A24 releases in select theaters Friday and expands in the coming weeks, is Bratton鈥檚 first feature film and one of the standout debuts of the year. It's the clarion sound of a new voice in film that reverberates all the more powerfully for coming from a man who spent the first half of his life being told again and again that his life, as a queer and poor Black kid, was worthless. 鈥淓very frame,鈥� , 鈥渢hrums with passion and purpose.鈥�
Jeremy Pope plays a fictionalized stand-in for Bratton: Ellis, a 25-year-old living in a homeless shelter after he鈥檚 been all but abandoned by his mother (Gabrielle Union). He joins the Marines during the 鈥淒on鈥檛 ask, don鈥檛 tell鈥� period of U.S. military service. There he encounters abusive hazing that nearly kills him but also a soldierly camaraderie that transcends social divisions. Some of the torturous drill sergeant-scenes in the barracks will remind many of Stanley Kubrick鈥檚 鈥淔ull Metal Jacket,鈥� but 鈥淭he Inspection鈥� has more complicated things to say about the nature of identity, transformation and community.
鈥淚sn鈥檛 every family abusive?鈥� says Bratton, sitting alongside Chester Algernal Gordon, his producing and life partner. 鈥淭o me, family is where you find it. I found family on the piers of Christopher Street. I found family in the halls of Columbia University. And I found family at boot camp. Love sometimes isn鈥檛 because of. It鈥檚 in spite of.鈥�
Bratton, himself, was contemplating his future after 10 years of living in and out of New York shelters when his mother told him to enlist. All around him, Bratton saw increasingly grim odds for himself. Shelters, he noted, were full of Black men not unlike himself, stuck in a cycle of survival.
鈥淚 had to ask myself if that was my future,鈥� says Bratton. 鈥淭he next morning, a Marine Corps recruiter approached me and said, 鈥楧o you want to be a Marine?鈥� I said, 鈥業f I can look as good in that uniform as you do, please sign me up.'鈥�
After scoring well on the entrance exam, Bratton was offered several options. One was to learn filmmaking and make instructional videos for the Marines. That appealed to Bratton, whose homeless hustles included stealing art books. Everyone in stores assumed he wasn鈥檛 interested in them. That鈥檚 how Bratton encountered books by Martin Scorsese and Spike Lee, and Peter Biskind's 1970s Hollywood history
鈥淪o when the recruiter asked, 鈥楬ave you ever thought about being a filmmaker?鈥� I was like, 鈥極f course. Doesn鈥檛 everybody?鈥欌�� recalls Bratton.
In the Marines, Bratton endured hostility but also found the most pivotal experience of his life. In some ways, the military was more accepting of him than his own family had been. 鈥淭he Inspection,鈥� to Bratton, is about 鈥渞adical and defiant empathy鈥� amidst political division.
鈥淵eah, it was abusive to me but it was also the place I found my purpose," he says. 鈥淛ust like my mom, it rejected me and embraced me. And in the process, I got to know myself.鈥�
After completing boot camp, Bratton found he could apply the tools he learned as a Marine in more personal ways. His mother told him to bring his camera and shoot his sister鈥檚 graduation. There, he found none of her classmates or instructors had heard of her older brother.
鈥淚t incensed me,鈥� says Bratton. 鈥淚 resolved in that moment that I would become a filmmaker so that I couldn鈥檛 be erased by my family. They were going to go to a theater and see my name on a poster, they were going to turn on the TV and see my name in the credits.鈥�
After the Marines, Bratton found new entries to higher education. He attended Columbia University. A sociology class led him to begin making what would become his breakthrough documentary, an intimate, immersive portrait of the Black LGBTQ community on Christopher Street Pier, made by an insider. He began it with money raised on Kickstarter and using his Marines' camera.
鈥淭hey call it 鈥榞etting caught up鈥� on the pier. You get your first gay kiss or trans kiss, you smoke your first blunt. Ten years later you鈥檙e 30. You get caught up in because it鈥檚 intoxicating to find your tribe,鈥� says Bratton, who now lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with Gordon, their dogs named Lindsey Lohan and Caravaggio, and a stray cat that followed him home one night. 鈥淚 still go back to the pier whenever I come to New York City.鈥�
After Bratton made the 2018 Viceland 10-episode docuseries about New York鈥檚 ball culture, he found himself with money and opportunity for the first time. He considered writing a book about his life. Gordon urged him to write a screenplay, instead. While developing 鈥淭he Inspection鈥� at the NYU Production Lab, filmmakers like Spike Lee, Kasi Lemmons and Tony Gilroy gave him advice. Lee suggested he not lay the film out in flashbacks. After pitching it around Hollywood, A24 greenlit it. Just days later, Gordon received an even more dramatic phone call.
鈥淚 came out of the bathroom and Elegance was standing there crying,鈥� Gordon says. 鈥淎nd he doesn鈥檛 really cry, except for this one movie. He said, 鈥楳y mother was just killed.鈥欌��
The death of Bratton鈥檚 mother has cast a tragic shadow over 鈥淭he Inspection." The film is dedicated to her. For that reason and others, Bratton has found he can鈥檛 watch his movie before speaking at a post-movie Q&A. It鈥檚 too emotionally overwhelming.
But if 鈥淭he Inspection鈥� is a product of the pain of Bratton鈥檚 past, it鈥檚 also a stirring portrait of his strength and resiliency. Bratton, emboldened by the response, is ready to make 30 more films, he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like he鈥檚 walking in destiny now,鈥� says Gordon.
鈥淚 wanted this story for a generation that I know is going to have to fight through hell to be themselves,鈥� says Bratton. 鈥淏ut I wanted to make a movie that they would feel confident that they can get to the other side and persevere. The movie is proof that they can.鈥�
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Jake Coyle, The Associated Press