At this year’s Chicago Film Festival, I’ve noticed a prominent connection between intimate family tales in my viewing lineup. As a youngest daughter and little sister to two older brothers, I admit the domestic stories I gravitate towards are often ones with which I can identify. However, at this year’s festival, I found myself moved immensely by stories of sons. It reminded me of a quote that’s stuck with me for years: “Seeing someone with their parents is a tangible reminder that we’re all composites” (Iain Reid, I’m Thinking of Ending Things). The question this statement arises is which pieces in the parental puzzle fit, which do not, and why. The films I outline in this particular dispatch investigate these ideas as they bear witness to sons and fathers (or father figures) as they collide in love, competition, pride, and petulance. 

David Fortune made his feature-length debut with “Color Book,” a slow-moving, intimate tale of a father and son in Atlanta, Georgia. The distinguishing feature of this film is patience, not solely on account of its pace, but in the very pathos of its story.

Lucky (Will Catlett, reprising a similar father figure role of the same name post-“A Thousand and One”) has recently lost his wife in a car accident. Now a single father, he has to balance the hours in the day between caring for his young son, Mason (Jeremiah Daniels), who has Down Syndrome, and coping with the sudden loss. The scales of this workload are not equal, and Lucky prioritizes Mason above all else, using the love of fatherhood to mask his grieving even as pain and frustrations seep through the surface. In an attempt to bring some light into their days, Lucky wants to take Mason to his first baseball game. This journey, via shoddy cars, public transit, and foot traffic, is depicted by “Color Book” with stunning tenderness and care.

I was blown away by how present “Color Book” felt. It is concerned with crafting a narrative composed of little moments rather than a big picture or overarching story. This welcomed tedium pushes the door open for full absorption of its characters, as does the gorgeous black and white portraiture and detailed inserts that make up its visual landscape. Catlett’s performance is gentle and evocative, as is the tangible chemistry between him and Daniels. With diegetic sound prevailing (there’s simply one perfectly chosen piece of soundtrack) and the film’s low, subtle score, Fortune renders the viewer not even a fly on the wall, but a guardian angel nestled up to the family. This closeness is “Color Book’s” greatest strength, delivering emotional magnitude within habitual close quarters.