‘Natchez’ Review: Shrewd Doc Explores a Southern City’s Struggle to Acknowledge History

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The first thing you notice about Suzannah Herbert’s doc Natchez is how the film looks.

A soft, wistful atmosphere pervades, evoking a sense of nostalgic yearning. Collaborating with cinematographer Noah Collier, Herbert captures the residents and scenery of Natchez, a quaint Mississippi town recognized for its historic home tours, in a hazy, warm glow. This gives an enchanting feel to the scenes. It portrays a peaceful snapshot of this city, nestled beside the Mississippi River, setting up a promising opening scene.

The story commences as the mayor of Natchez attends a gathering with the local gardening association. Here, he expresses his enthusiasm for rejuvenating Natchez, a city that acknowledges and cherishes its entire history, encompassing both its positive and negative aspects. He then joins hands, one with a Black woman to his left and another white woman to his right, and says affectionately, “This is the essence of Natchez, right here.

As a gamer, I found myself immersed in the documentary “Natchez,” which debuted at Tribeca and bagged both the documentary feature prize and special jury awards for cinematography and editing. The mayor’s words in this film seem like a bold declaration about the city’s next chapter. However, as the story unfolds, I began to understand that for some residents, the mayor’s sentiments are less of a definitive statement and more of a query or question.

In the town of Natchez, Herbert’s documentary explores how a city that thrives on its pre-Civil War past grapples with its dark heritage of slavery. This work adds to a limited collection of pieces about this small town. In 2020, travel writer Richard Grant wrote about Natchez in his book “The Deepest South of All”, and some of the individuals he met are featured in Herbert’s film. The documentary aligns with Margaret Brown’s “Descendant”, which delves into the tale of the Clotilda slave ship and examines the material and spiritual inheritance of the influential white families in Mobile, Alabama. A significant scene in Brown’s film shows the director conversing with a descendant of a prominent slave-owning family. The interaction is stiff and uncomfortable, hinting at an unease in acknowledging this painful history.

In the documentary Natchez, we encounter several awkward instances. The film begins with the mayor’s address at a garden club, followed by a succinct account of the city’s past recounted by some of the participants. Historically, Natchez was among the wealthiest regions in the U.S., with its inhabitants accumulating fortunes from the cotton industry. It’s worth noting that, as one participant shared, Natchez housed the second largest domestic slave market within the nation.

In the 1930s’ early days, a boll weevil infestation ravaged the cotton crops and crippled the local economy. To keep their heads above water, the garden club initiated landscape tours, but a heavy rainstorm ruined their plans to display well-groomed greenery. Instead, they shifted to house tours, which ultimately became a major attraction in Natchez. Today, it’s a sought-after destination for tourists eager to explore these historic homes.

I, as a passionate admirer, engage with diverse locals in Natchez, from descendants preserving the grandeur of ancestral mansions to residents seeking to honor the city’s enslaved ancestors through memorialization. The annual Pilgrimage, an extravagant display of antebellum culture filled with intricate costumes and tours, is a significant event in this town. As I delve into Natchez, I witness the community pondering ways to incorporate discussions about slavery during their preparations for this grand spectacle. In the beginning of Natchez, there are various instances, from sincere dialogues acknowledging the enslaved individuals who maintained these palaces, to less tactful ones where they’re referred to as workers, implying that their labor was compensated rather than forced.

In essence, Natchez revolves around three key characters, each embodying distinct elements of the city’s lifestyle. The first is Tracy, a white woman deeply rooted in the southern belle culture and involved in conducting home tours. Another character is Tracy from Mississippi, a black resident who offers tours with a more comprehensive perspective on Natchez. Lastly, there’s David Garner, a neo-Confederate, residing with his husband in a popular mansion on the tour. He serves as an intriguing figure and embodies many of the town’s contradictions. This openly gay man is well-versed in the civil rights struggles of the LGBT community but casually employs offensive racial terms when referring to Black people. His tours serve as silent testaments that for some, the past remains the present reality.

Herbert’s storyline progresses at a measured rhythm, reflecting the leisurely pace of Southern living. The filmmaker’s deliberate pacing contributes to the gradual build-up of tension leading to the climax of Natchez. As the three narratives begin to intersect, the initial refined politeness depicted in the movie starts to unravel, exposing a disquieting core. The film presents a paradox as we discover that Natchez was a place where African Americans who were once enslaved flourished during Reconstruction. Yet, it is primarily its white residents who are resisting the idea of commemorating the slave market in the 21st century. How can a city advance without confronting its past? This question extends beyond Natchez and applies to America as a whole.

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2025-06-20 21:24