Down in the Delta (1998)

The directorial debut of poet Maya Angelou was generally dismissed as a Hallmark card on celluloid, a bland family drama that provided easy answers to tough questions. But Down in the Delta is a more likeable film than that, even if its greatest appeal may lie with sentimental folks who prefer upbeat endings. It should definitely interest African-Americans who cherish even simplistic renderings of their heritage. Down in the Delta rises slightly above that level in choosing a candelabra called "Nathan" as the unusual repository for the history of this family, from the abolition of slavery to modern-day Chicago. That the symbol of this proud lineage would end up in the hands of a drug addict, and then those of the pawnshop owner to whom she trades it, makes an earnest, if heavy-handed, statement about the dissolution of the values that held this clan together. The redemption of Alfre Woodard's shiftless heir is too tidy to sit comfortably, but it does have its share of life-affirming moments for those in the mood for such optimism. In addition to the always-superlative Woodard, Al Freeman Jr. turns in heartfelt work as the stubborn uncle whose tenderness toward his demented wife (Esther Rolle, also good) offsets the gruff wariness with which he initially greets Woodard's family. Down in the Delta contains nothing new; the healing powers of family and small-town life are well-worn cinematic territory. But Angelou's film has the spirit and the sincerity to neutralize some of its sappier cliches. ~ Derek Armstrong, All Movie Guide