Two Colors, One Bond

By James Poniewozik

One of the most oft-cited excuses for why the races don't mix more on TV is that they don't mix more off it. We may mingle at work and school, but the home remains mostly monochrome. The small-screen picture of race has inevitably suffered, for while in cop shows and historical movies race is an "issue," only in our most intimate domestic and social arenas can we see it as a multifaceted fact of life. For that reason alone, An American Love Story (PBS, Sept. 12-16, check local listings), a 10-hr. documentary about an interracial family, is noteworthy. What makes it extraordinary is how it shows a family--period--dealing with mundane life and marriage, from work to school to health scares, and on the way interrogates racial categories in America from every imaginable angle.

Bill Sims and Karen Wilson meet in 1967 in Ohio, where Bill, who is black, is regularly harassed for consorting with a white girl. The family eventually moves to Queens, N.Y., and thrives as a benevolent, good-humored fortress. But as elder daughter Cicily finds at college, the outside world eventually intrudes. The most hurtful prejudice she encounters is from black classmates--a situation that comes to a head when she spends a semester in Africa that deepens and complicates her identity. And yet that self-fulfilling racist caution, "What about the children?," hardly obtains. Both Cicily and her sister Chaney have grown up well adjusted and confident, with a deep connection to both parents.

It is Bill Sims who emerges as the most fascinating subject. A blues guitarist whose career has stalled, he has grown depressed and developed a drinking problem. Moreover, we learn, he left two other children at an early age. When he returns to find his son facing prison, we see a stark negative of the nurturing idyll he and Karen have created. Yet Bill comes off as a devoted, likable father and husband who offers sharp insights on race.

Filmmaker Jennifer Fox spent a year and a half with the family through crises and celebrations, begging--like the none too subtle title--comparison to 1973's An American Family. But where that work shocked us by showing the suburban Louds falling apart, this one is surprising for the quiet strength with which its family stays together. In the process it shows that racial rapport in America is elusive not just because of history or politics but also because, like Bill and Karen's difficult but triumphant love, it requires years of personal effort. Love Story will reward anyone who, at least, can spare 10 hours.

--By James Poniewozik