Natchez, Mississippi, a town steeped in antebellum history and reliant on tourism celebrating that past, is undergoing a reckoning. Suzannah Herbert’s documentary, “Natchez,” opening at Laemmle Glendale, doesn’t offer easy answers, but instead presents a complex, often unsettling portrait of a community grappling with its legacy of slavery and its impact on the present. The film, a Tribeca Film Festival winner, avoids simplistic narratives, instead opting for a nuanced exploration of memory, history, and the challenges of progress.
The story begins in the 1930s, when the white matriarchs of Natchez opened their grand antebellum mansions to tourists, a move born of economic necessity. This decision, as the film points out, simultaneously preserved a romanticized version of the South while largely ignoring the brutal reality of the slavery that funded its wealth. Herbert’s approach isn’t accusatory, but observational, allowing the contradictions of Natchez to speak for themselves. The documentary skillfully navigates the tension between the carefully curated image presented to visitors and the inconvenient truths that lie beneath the surface.
Central to the film is Deborah Cosey, the Garden Club’s first Black member. Cosey’s work at Concord Quarters, the last remaining building of a burned-down plantation where she also resides, is a powerful act of reclamation. She’s dedicated to telling “the rest of the story,” centering the experiences of those who were enslaved. A particularly poignant scene depicts Cosey’s frustration with her white colleagues, highlighting the slow pace of change and the resistance to fully acknowledging the past. Her presence within the Garden Club, a traditionally exclusive organization, symbolizes a shift, but also underscores the deep-seated challenges that remain.
The film introduces Tracy “Rev” Collins, a pastor who offers alternative tours of Natchez, focusing on the stories of Black residents and the legacy of slavery. Collins’ tours are described as both educational and witty, providing a direct counterpoint to the traditional “Gone With the Wind” narrative often presented to tourists. He recognizes a changing demographic in tourism, noting that younger generations are less interested in the romanticized antebellum story. “It turns out that Millennials and Generation Z folks are not as interested in the antebellum story… Which is where I come in. I’m about to violate some Southern pride narratives with truths and facts,” Collins states.
Herbert doesn’t shy away from complexity. The documentary also features David Garner, an openly gay veteran and Garden Club member, whose charitable work suggests a progressive outlook. However, the film reveals a deeply ingrained racism within Garner’s own perspective, a jarring reminder that progress isn’t always linear and that prejudice can exist in unexpected places. This revelation serves as a sobering moment, illustrating the persistence of neo-Confederate sentiments within the community.
Visually, “Natchez” is striking. Noah Collier’s cinematography is described as lush and performative, deliberately evoking a sense of nostalgia. However, this aesthetic choice isn’t intended to romanticize the past, but rather to highlight the selective memory at play. Herbert uses this visual language to encourage viewers to look beyond the surface and consider the stories that are often left untold. The film’s strength lies in its ability to avoid simply condemning Natchez, instead focusing on how the town’s relationship with its past continues to shape its present.
The documentary’s exploration of Natchez feels particularly relevant as the United States continues to grapple with its own history of racial injustice. The town serves as a microcosm for the larger national conversation, raising questions about how to reconcile with a painful past and build a more equitable future. The film doesn’t offer easy solutions, but it does provide a valuable and thought-provoking examination of a community at a crossroads.
“Natchez” isn’t just a film about a specific town; it’s a film about the stories we choose to tell, the memories we preserve, and the responsibility we have to confront the uncomfortable truths of our history. It’s a film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll, prompting viewers to question their own understanding of the past and its enduring legacy.
