Sundance: Keke Palmer on How ‘Alice’ Explores Black Freedom Through Its Time Twist

For Keke Palmer, starring in Krystin Ver Linden’s directorial debut Alice was a sobering but empowering opportunity to connect with her ancestors while also reflecting on modern racial justice.

It’s a role that speaks directly to her acting roots and that fits squarely into a larger vision for her career, she says, of “how I see resilience in who I am and how to express that visually and artistically, to me that’s really where it aligns.”

In the film, which had its debut at the Sundance Film Festival in the U.S. Dramatic Competition Section, Palmer plays an enslaved woman in 1800s Georgia who escapes her plantation to discover that, beyond the forest’s tree line, it’s 1973. With the help of somewhat dispirited Black activist Frank (Common), Alice fights to reclaim her life and her freedom.

Alice, which is due out in theaters March 18 via Roadside Attractions, is inspired by true events of Black Americans who remained enslaved after the Emancipation Proclamation. A blend of time travel, historical drama and revenge thriller, the movie is an ode to (and spin-on) Blaxploitation films.

Pulling double-duty as an executive producer, the actress says her decision to join the project was “a way to express my activism, my pride in my community and the ways in which I want to encourage my community, especially when referencing the past.” Ahead of its Sundance debut, THR interviewed Palmer about Alice. 

This film centers on the relationship between Alice and Common’s Frank. How did you approach working together on this? 

We both wanted to be so thoughtful about every single move we made because we wanted to make sure that we were being responsible with the takeaways. Doing a film that dates to the past like this can be a touchy subject for our community. We wanted to make sure that we were delicate. There’s an importance to looking into the past, but it doesn’t have to always be from the viewpoint of who is victimized. It can be from the viewpoint that this has happened, and we keep going. This is how we remain hopeful and this is how we deal with the atrocities that are still going on today. There were so many poetic metaphors that Krystin built into the script’s dialogue that we just wanted to make sure we were doing our part, performance-wise. Then, just personally, working with Common, there couldn’t have been a better person for this part. He is, without a doubt, Frank. He is that character — a leader, teacher and gentle person. 

You were an executive producer on Alice. What was that experience like for you in terms of collaborating with director Krystin Ver Linden? 

It was a great opportunity for that. I’ve produced stuff before, but not to this degree. Nor was I that appreciated or valued for my point of view. As an artist, what I have to offer in terms of the bigger picture and wanting to make sure those messages are coming across and being valued — this was the first time I was able to really walk into and truly own a position like that. To say, “OK, these lines? I’m not sure. I feel like Alice needs to come harder.” Or, “I feel this needs to happen.” Or, “This doesn’t really connect to me.” It was always a collaboration because Krystin is a very talented writer and director. But how we were allowed to dial it in for our character’s point of view and make sure that the overall message tied in — I felt very much a part of that.

This film has a significant twist. When you first read it, what was your reaction?

It was gag-worthy. It was just very like, “OK,” you know what I mean? (Laughs.) It gave us the feeling that we wanted to feel for time travel, but it was like, “Oh, it’s grounded. Wait a minute, it’s historical. Oh, wait. Let me do my research.” It was just very informative, exciting, engaging. I felt, “This is fresh.” I felt empowered. This is the big thing for me. When we go back in time to our stuff, it’s like, “Here we go. Time to get sad. Time to get victimized.” That’s not what happened here. That’s what I loved about it. Then for it to be in the 1970s, one of the biggest times of the Black Power movement — it just got me amped up. It got me excited. This is the twist we need. This is the twist of now.

There’s this acknowledgment that Black people have limitations around moving through time because they don’t have the same freedoms as now. But this movie doesn’t pull its main character into the past; it pulls her forward into freedom and the future. How does that make this film different than works with a similar storyline? 

Yes, it’s set in the past, but it is pulling into the future. I think that’s a big thing. Where we start and then mostly live in the 1970s space, it still feels like now in a sense. Ultimately, that’s what the movie is saying. Things aren’t done and over just like that. Everything doesn’t just change. But you keep going, not in spite of but because of — like Alice. You keep going because of the Franks because of the Martin Luthers because of the Malcolm Xes. Also, it’s not going to be the same fight each time. I’m excited to see how people will unpack and digest that. When I think about the time in this film, it doesn’t feel like we are waiting in the back. And it’s being used in a way that reflects a mirror of us today. So many of us today are Frank. But then you look at Alice, who was just in the field, and you’re like, “What the hell am I doing?”

The movie brought Alice into the 1970s. Why was that era the one that felt right for her? 

To see the difference between her hope and Frank’s hope. I think that was important. In Frank’s hope, like many people living in the 1970s, it was after all that fighting, fighting, fighting, and doing, doing, doing. Then everybody was just like, “I’m tired. Nothing is happening quick enough.” Frank’s emotion is a parallel emotion to most people, definitely a lot of young people, today. It was important for us to tap into that space, and there was no better time to capture that than the 1970s. Alice shows the dichotomy between making progress and feeling like not enough progress has been made and how that can result in apathy or make you feel like nothing can be done. The poetry parallels what happened in the 1970s, what’s happening right now, and what constantly happens with Black people. It’s something that we are always going to be dealing with, but in the words of Alice, I can’t stop. I’m going to figure out how to do it my way.

What did you want for people to understand through your performance about what it means to be free and Black in America? 

I loved how Krystin did it. The way that the guise is pulled is no different from: “Slavery is dead, but here comes jail.” It’s the same kind of switch and bait concept. I really wanted people to understand when that moment was happening, that these were new words. She had no concept of slavery and free. Alice didn’t even know the word slave. It’s important to understand that they had to learn and then fight — when we think about our ancestors. We could read, could write. They had to first figure that out. Imagine realizing you’re a slave. Imagine growing into life and thinking that this is just what it is until you find out one day that it’s not?

Now and then, you’ll see a meme online that’s like, “Don’t come at me like that. I am not my ancestors.” It’s like, no, you’re not your ancestors because I don’t know if I could have survived that. I wanted people to see that. When it comes to freedom, yes, things are tough, but nothing is tougher than what our ancestors went through. Nothing that we’re experiencing today is that. I think that’s the big thing for Alice. When Alice realizes she’s free — she’s free. I feel like that’s the attitude that I can hope to have when going through these times. When Alice hears freedom, that moment is like, as long as I’m not tied to a house somewhere and I can move; I can vote; I can make some choices; I’ve got autonomy over my person and there’s a lot that I can still do. Yes, things are messed up. But you’re not your ancestors because you have autonomy. That’s so important for us to remember in these times when we feel dejected and depressed. That’s all very valid, but we have to remember they did a lot of groundwork.

Characters’ responses to being thrown into a different era tend to be more exaggerated. You took a more subdued approach with Alice. Why? 

It was hard not to because Alice is an ode to the Blaxpoitation era. It’s Pam Greer-inspired, so it’s very easy to “jive turkey motherfucker” it. In an alternate universe, I could have given that, but that’s been done. We’re trying to make something new that’s more now and more what Krystin wanted to represent. I did take in her directing and talk to her specifically about that. It’s as if Black exploitation was not campy. That was what we were trying to create. She don’t know Frank. She ain’t making no sudden moves. She’s trying to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t have an owner, so this is weird.

It’s coming from a place of being Alice in Wonderland. How do I make sense of this? Her slow curiosity is part of her intelligence, with her being somebody that has experienced slavery, being watched, being tormented, in unsafe scenarios. It’s what you would consider street smarts with Alice taking her time and taking it all in. It’s also displaying her quiet strength. That silence that we see from the beginning was also big for me. I wanted her to be strong. I didn’t want her to be a robot. I don’t want her to be the stereotype of the Black woman who is just strong the whole way through, but I didn’t want her to be weak. So finding the different elements to play her with intelligence and her strength in these moments was very important.

There are a few confrontations between Alice and her former captors, but there is a diner scene that features a specific conversation about the ways womanhood has existed differently for white women and Black women. Why did that moment feel right for Alice’s journey towards freedom? 

It was important for Krystin to show the traditions — from patriarchy to racism. How in the beginning those things were just embedded in life. Originally in that scene there was a lot more dialogue from [Rachel, who helped run the plantation] that I specifically took away, because it’s not about her. As an audience member, I don’t want to hear shit she got to say. It’s Alice’s turn to speak. It’s Alice’s opportunity to say what she wants to say. That to me was more important and more powerful. We’ve gone through this journey with Alice and here she is with this opportunity to show that she’s not afraid. That she knows who this person is, that she knows the truth. She’s not disillusioned any longer.

It’s easy to imagine working on this subject matter is difficult as a Black artist. Were there any discussions or resources in place on set to help with your mental health as you tackled this?

There wasn’t actually, though I think it would be good if there was on movies. We were filming everything so hastily and just trying to get everything done that I was really mostly in that creative space. The crazy thing about it was that I was having an enjoyable time. Most of the time, we weren’t doing those darker things. But the aftermath, just like with any project I do, was very deep emotionally. You live in a traumatic space; I was very haunted by the realities of what my ancestors went through. But the thing about it that I hope is the same for people that watch it, is that I realized that that’s why I’m happy today. I don’t need to be sad today. I need to live.

I remember one time this lady when I started to get into spirituality told me, “When you set yourself free, you set your ancestors free.” I’m like, “What the hell does she mean?” But I started to understand it more and more as I got older. That message rang true for me with Alice. That’s why I fight the fight that I fight — because of that, because of them. I don’t want to run from the past because I feel very proud of the past, of my ancestors, what they did, and how I’m here — the fact we’re still standing and that we’re not extinct as a culture and as a people.

Interview edited for length clarity.