Star-crossed lovers on either side of the brown paper bag test in ‘Cane River’

We recently lost journalist and documentarian Sacha Jenkins, one of the funniest, shrewdest, and most inspiring minds in cultural criticism and art his generation, or any generation since, has ever known. He was a significant influence on this film critic, so I was surprised to discover that his father — Horace B. Jenkins — was a filmmaker whose sole work never saw the light of day until 36 years after his death.

Horace B. Jenkins wrote, directed, and produced “Cane River” in 1982. It was, for the time, a rarity — a film created by, predominantly starring and funded by Black folks. 

Jenkins passed away that December, before the film secured distribution, before falling into obscurity for nearly forty years. But since the film’s rediscovery in 2018 and subsequent release in 2020, it’s been sitting on several streaming platforms, just waiting to be seen by hungry eyes destined to marvel at how ahead of its time it feels. Audiences have craved a film like this for decades, not knowing it existed just beyond our grasp. 

“Cane River” is a romantic drama between two lovers being pulled apart by the weight of the past and the pull of the present. When the film begins, we meet Peter Metoyer (Richard Romain), who is returning home to Cane River Lake in Natchitoches Parish, Louisiana. He’s met with love and excitement by a big, multigenerational gathering of family members, all the same shade of beige as him. We find out he’s been away at college, where he played football, but has given the sport up to pursue his real dream of being a poet and a writer. (“The closest I’ll get to the pros is the prose I put down with pencil on paper,” he says.)

Initially, it seems Peter is hiding some kind of failure and doesn’t want to disappoint all the people who treat him like a celebrity. But once he runs into Maria Mathis (Tommye Myrick), a gorgeous dark-skinned girl he hits it off with, it becomes clear he isn’t bluffing. Feeling an instant sense of ease around Maria, Peter transforms from the charming but stoic himbo we’ve seen into a passionate, hotheaded motormouth. He explains that he turned down being drafted by the New York Jets because of how the league treats talent and how it felt too much like being on an auction block. The two seem suspiciously smitten early on, given they’re on alternate paths. 

However, the true schism in this potential union is evident from the moment of their first meet-cute. Maria works part-time at a historical site that was once a plantation. Peter sees her while deviating from a tour after insulting the white lady who runs the place. Maria is on a break, reading “The Forgotten People: Cane River’s Creoles of Color,” a book about a well-off family that traces back to Marie Thérèse Coincoin, a formerly enslaved person turned slave owner. She also went by Marie Thérèse Métoyer, the name given to her by the slaver who married her and bought her freedom. Once the connection is made that Peter is a descendant of the controversial family Maria has been reading about, their families become obstacles to their future.

It’s fascinating to watch a romance unfold that reckons with the ever-present specter of America’s history and all the ways it impacts future generations, regardless of the distance of time. Both Peter and Maria, at different points to each other and others, fall back on the fact that they weren’t there in the 1700s and bear no personal responsibility for the actions of their ancestors. But as the film unfolds, it becomes increasingly apparent that they can’t simply “why you bringin’ up old stuff” their way out of their tangible realities. 

There’s a particularly damning scene where Peter crashes out after finding out the original home he grew up in and the land it sits on was sold by his aunt to an unscrupulous lawyer. It leads him to finally read the book Maria had — only he skips over all the findings about his ancestors’ complicity in enslaving their people and focuses solely on the importance of land ownership and how modern Blacks aren’t focused enough on accumulating generational wealth. All this forty years before Jay-Z would go on to shame his listeners for not owning any Basquiats or investing in Dumbo when they had the chance!

Don’t allow all this talk about the complexities of racial matters make the film sound like a tough watch. Jenkins, as a storyteller, had a unique sense of humor, and he allowed moments of comedy to breathe throughout the film believably and charmingly. Roy Glover’s score features a variety of songs from New Orleans vocalist Phillip Manuel, and the lyrics have a Randy Newman-esque quality to them, narrating things seen on screen or adding omniscient depth to suggest a more soulful version of a sitcom’s theme. 

Jenkins and cinematographer Gideon Manasseh aren’t reinventing the wheel with the film’s visual language or anything — they’re both comfortable letting scenes expand into long single takes, relying on zooms to segment into close-ups — but they do a phenomenal job capturing the environs of Louisiana. The fields, the waters, day exteriors, and night exteriors — the state provides such a gorgeous backdrop to the proceedings.

Neither lead went on to have the most notable of careers, but some flowers must be given for Romain and Myrick’s performances and their palpable chemistry. Watching “Cane River” in 2025, one can’t help but envision an alternate reality where this really did get a wide release while Jenkins was still alive to accept the praise. Jenkins’ son Sacha inspired a lot of us with his work. One can only wish he had been given the same opportunity.

“Cane River” is currently streaming on Cineverse, Fandor, and Philo but is also available to rent for free on Kanopy using your local library card.