The first aspect that captivates viewers in **Suzannah Herbert’s documentary, *Natchez***, is the visual splendor of the film.
With an ethereal aesthetic that evokes a sense of **nostalgic longing**, Herbert, in collaboration with cinematographer Noah Collier, masterfully captures the people and landscapes of Natchez—a quaint Mississippi town renowned for its antebellum house tours. The film is bathed in a soft, golden light, creating an **alluring atmosphere** that juxtaposes the serene beauty of the Mississippi River with the city’s complex historical narrative, setting the stage for an optimistically charged opening scene.
*Natchez*
The Bottom Line
Raises urgent questions.
Venue: Tribeca Film Festival (Documentary Competition)
Director: Suzannah Herbert
1 hour 26 minutes
*Natchez* begins with the city’s mayor attending a garden club meeting, where he enthusiastically announces his vision for a renewed Natchez—one that embraces **all** facets of the town’s history, both commendable and regrettable. He gathers the hands of a Black woman on one side and a white woman on the other, declaring with a smile, “This is what Natchez is right here.”
While the mayor’s sentiments seem to herald a new chapter for a community grappling with its **painful legacy of slavery**, the film’s progression reveals that for many residents, these words are more a question than a statement.
In *Natchez*, Herbert artfully explores how this American city, which profits from its **antebellum past**, confronts its history of slavery. This documentary stands as part of a **limited canon** focused on Natchez, complementing travel writer Richard Grant’s *The Deepest South of All*, which highlights similar voices. Additionally, Margaret Brown’s *Descendant*, which scrutinizes the legacy of the Clotilda slave ship, resonates with the themes presented in Herbert’s film.
One striking moment in *Descendant* features a descendant of a wealthy slave-owning family awkwardly navigating the discussion of this **contentious legacy**. In *Natchez*, Herbert captures analogous moments as she juxtaposes historical remembrances with contemporary realities, revealing that Natchez once thrived as one of the wealthiest areas in the U.S., largely due to the cotton industry. However, it was also home to the second-largest domestic slave market in the nation.
The film shares how the Great Depression hit Natchez hard—the cotton economy collapsed after a **devastating boll weevil infestation**. In a bid for survival, the local garden club transitioned from landscape tours to elaborate home tours, which blossomed into a popular tourist attraction amid **unpredictable weather**.
Herbert spotlights various local voices—from homeowners preserving historical mansions to townspeople advocating for **memorials honoring the enslaved**. A focal event is the Pilgrimage, an extravagant antebellum celebration characterized by grand costumes and guided tours. As the townspeople prepare, they grapple with how to appropriately incorporate references to the past—especially the voices of enslaved individuals, often naively referred to as mere “workers.”
Ultimately, *Natchez* weaves its narrative around three central figures, each embodying different aspects of life within the city. There’s Tracy, a white woman steeped in **Southern belle traditions**; another Tracy, a Black Mississippian providing more nuanced historical tours; and David Garner, a neo-Confederate owner of a popular mansion, whose polarizing views underscore the town’s contradictions. Here stands a man deeply rooted in both the **LGBTQ+ civil rights struggle** and yet, paradoxically, using racial slurs—a stark reminder of how the past extends into the present.
The film unfolds at a **measured pace**, echoing the languid rhythm of Southern life. Herbert’s deliberate storytelling builds towards a thoughtful crescendo, revealing the unsettling truths lurking beneath the initial genteel facade. The narrative highlights the irony that Natchez once served as a place where formerly enslaved African Americans thrived during Reconstruction, yet today, it is predominantly white citizens resisting the acknowledgment of their past.
The poignant question arises: **How can a city progress without reckoning with its history?** This is not merely a dilemma specific to Natchez but is emblematic of a broader challenge faced across America.