Queen and Slim

It might seem lazy that a film examining racial stereotypes, social injustice, and speaking truth to power turns a pair of cop killers into folk heroes. But in the case of Queen and Slim, it serves to amplify a powerful message.

Although its ambitions too often exceed its grasp, this vivid portrayal of the pervasive distrust between police officers and black Americans crackles with authentic dialogue and avoids heavy-handed clichés.

The story opens with an awkward blind date in a coffee shop between a store clerk (Daniel Kaluuya) and an attorney (Jodie Turner-Smith) — we don’t learn their names until much later — that turns from bad to worse on the way home, when they’re profiled and pulled over.

After a confrontation, he shoots and kills the officer in self-defense, sending the bickering duo on the lam once they evaluate the optics of the situation.

A nationwide manhunt intensifies, complete with viral fame, media scrutiny, and a reward. So they flee to the Deep South, where she has family, with the vague intention of eventually making their way to Cuba. Always looking over their shoulders, they find some allies in a few black-owned business owners who sympathize with their situation.

Knowing their predetermined fate in the court of public opinion, they’re linked together out of necessity. Yet as their desperation grows, so does their attraction to one another.

While exploring familiar themes, the screenplay by Lena Waithe is sharply observed, culturally and socio-politically aware — proudly and definitively “woke,” as it were — with plenty of topical relevance beneath the surface.

Kaluuya (Get Out) and radiant newcomer Turner-Smith develop a convincing rapport, providing an emotional anchor amid the film’s wavering moral complexity. Generally speaking, their characters are smart and upstanding people who get caught in some unfortunate circumstances, make some impulsive decisions, and watch things spiral out of control.

Meanwhile, rookie director Melina Matsoukas occasionally struggles to modulate the tonal shifts, weaving elements of dark comedy and offbeat romance into a cat-and-mouse thriller with artful intensions but muddled execution.

Queen and Slim maintains a contemporary Bonnie and Clyde vibe, even referencing as much at one point, although Thelma and Louise might be a more apt comparison. Still, despite a handful of contrivances, the film probes some uncomfortable truths about the blurred lines between perpetrators and victims in the social-media age. It’s provocative enough to get your attention.

Rated R, 132 minutes.