The Gates

John Burr’s The Gates is a thriller about three Black college students who find themselves trapped in a gated Texas community, mostly populated by white, wealthy residents. The young men are looked upon with suspicion and ultimately chased through the neighborhood like criminals. Certainly, the movie is intended to convey the anxiety and terror people of color experience when pulled over by a white cop or when accused of a crime based on how they look. It also confronts how Christianity can be performative and worn like a disguise to conceal all manner of hateful ideologies and behaviors. Given all this, Burr’s movie may provoke a potent response from viewers one way or another. Some will dismiss the material as “woke,” but chances are, if they’re using that word as a pejorative, they wouldn’t watch The Gates after reading its logline anyway. Others will wonder whether Burr goes too far or even not far enough. Either way, the scenario is more realistic than most Americans would care to admit.  

However true (or not) you deem the movie’s portrait of racial dynamics in the suburban United States, Burr delivers an engaging 90-minute thriller. That’s thanks in large part to Mason Gooding, whose charm and affable screen presence have elevated several slashers in recent years, among them last year’s rewatchable Heart Eyes. He plays Derek, who’s studying for law school when he’s visited by his friends, Kevin (Algee Smith) and Tyon (Keith Powers). They want to drive their friend to a party and, while taking backroads to avoid heavy traffic, they end up on a residential highway that stops at a community gate. To pass through the neighborhood, they must have a code. One of its members, a white woman, drives up next to the trio. They ask her to enter her code so they can get to their party. “You want to go in there?” she asks with ominous disbelief. Regardless, she lets them in, as if to say, “Your funeral.” And sure enough, the residents take one look and determine they’re “not from the neighborhood.” 

After driving by one McMansion after another, they find a gate on the other side of the community. Stuck, they resolve to approach the nearest house and ask the owner to let them out. Kevin and Tyon are hesitant for obvious reasons, while even Derek, who doesn’t believe that all white people are racist, takes off his hoodie before approaching the door, just in case he’s profiled. But through the window, they see a domestic abuse situation unfold between a white couple. During a violent argument, the man pushes the woman, who strikes her head and collapses, seemingly dead. The man then notices the three friends outside his door, grabs a gun, and chases after them. This is Jacob, played by the late James Van Der Beek, in his final screen role. He creates a detestable character who, behind his scuzzy appearance at this moment, is a megachurch pastor with plenty to hide. But he has the trust of his neighbors when he claims the young men are killers. 

Refreshingly, The Gates doesn’t divide its characters along racial lines. Not every Black character is a persecuted victim, and not every white person is a racist villain. Take Christopher (Brad Leland), a wary man who helps Derek and his friends. He listens to their story, and though he doesn’t entirely believe them at first, he redeems himself later. There’s also Roxy (Sofia Hublitz), who is ostensibly trapped at a neighborhood douchebag’s party house. She hopes Kevin and Tyon will help her leave, but they get caught up in the stereotypes suburban white kids have about African Americans. Elsewhere, Derek sees a Black woman (Natacha Ellie) and figures she will help him. She doesn’t. But just as the movie presents exceptions, it also reveals kernels of truth: Watch when a preadolescent boy takes his father’s rifle and points it at our protagonists, all too prepared to exploit Stand Your Ground laws to justify murder. 

Similar to his treatment of race, Burr’s critique of how Christians sometimes employ biblical verse and reference “God’s will” to justify their decidedly un-Christian actions isn’t dependent on sweeping generalizations. The Jacob character has abused his position and convinced others of his piety. He tells a cop, “Let’s see if we can resolve this the Christian way,” and then later resorts to unrepentant murder. The Gates doesn’t suggest that all white Christians are racists who exploit their beliefs for personal gain, but some bad actors exist out there. When so many socially conscious films tend to look at groups as polarized, Burr recognizes that broad assumptions don’t help anyone; they’re tantamount to prejudice and fuel distrust and hatred. At the same time, The Gates is predicated on the concept of a community of white racists. Only by looking more closely do we recognize that not everyone can be neatly placed in a social box. 

Burr’s movie doesn’t resort to cheap thrills or action, even while he maintains its tension. That’s both a strength and a weakness. It’s a polemic, of course, but its message would have been clear without some of the more pointed dialogue. Regardless, it’s bound to strike a nerve with its ripped-from-the-headlines premise, which evokes both the Trayvon Martin case (and many others like it) and recent evidence of ICE agents targeting individuals based on skin color. Given how prevalent these concerns are in the US, the movie might feel almost too timely. Fortunately, The Gates remains compelling thanks to Gooding, who’s bound to become a bigger star. Burr’s film is solidly executed, if also somewhat straightforward and unexceptional in its presentation. Its ideas are resonant yet obvious, but it leaves the viewer with plenty to think about.