BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions is hitting the Berlinale, and Kahlil Joseph’s debut feature is not an expansion of his 2019 art installation of the same name, the filmmaker tells The Hollywood Reporter, but a new volume of work entirely.
Joseph’s nonlinear film, which premiered in Sundance and is getting its international premiere at the Berlin Film Festival, follows a journalist (Shaunette Renée Wilson) reporting on a popular Transatlantic Biennale that includes footage and excerpts from the work of Black artists like Senga Nengudi, Maren Hassinger, Garrett Bradley, Raven Jackson, Ja’Tovia Gary and Alex Bell.
The plot, as it were, centers on Wilson’s character, Sarah, who is desperate to get in touch with Funmilayo Akachukwu (Kaneza Schaal), the curator of the fictional art showcase aboard a sleek cruise ship called The Nautica. The story, which is virtually impossible to synopsize, spans roughly three centuries, with Joseph drawing inspiration from the likes of Saidiya Hartman, Christina Sharpe and Dionne Brand to Jean-Luc Godard, Arthur Jafa and Julie Dash.
But two other figures lie at the center of the film — both serving as artistic inspiration for Joseph: scholar W.E.B. DuBois, who spent years tirelessly trying to publish an encyclopedia about Black culture, history and diaspora before his death in 1963, and Joseph’s late brother Noah Davis, a visual artist and co-founder of the Underground Museum in Los Angeles.
Joseph, best known for his work on the companion film to Beyoncé’s 2016 album Lemonade, presents the audience with a layered representation of Black voices, videos, music, memes, photos, dialogue and artwork, amalgamating to build BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions as an anthology of Black culture and history. The director, who edited the film alongside Luke Lynch and Paul Rogers (Everything Everywhere All at Once), offers it up as much more than a tribute: “It’s a continuation,” he says.
Joseph talked to THR about why the installation was ripe for evolution, capturing his brother’s legacy and how his background in music video directing aided the entire process: “The best music videos function like cinema.”
When did it first occur to you to expand your 2019 art installation of the same name, and why was that project ripe for a film like this?
BLKNWS has always been in flux — it was never meant to be static. The installation was a proof of concept, an active newsroom inside a conceptual space. But it was always bigger than that. The idea of expanding it into a feature was less about turning it into a conventional narrative and more about following its natural evolution. It was ripe for this form because the world kept making it more urgent. The cultural and social landscape kept shifting in ways that BLKNWS was already anticipating, and I wanted to lean into that expansiveness. This isn’t an adaptation — it’s more like a new volume in an ongoing body of work.
Kaneza Schaal in ‘BLKNWS.’
Courtesy of BLKNWS Studio / Cinetic Media
BLKNWS is infused by DuBois’ determination to offer a new generation access to a history-spanning record of Black lives, culture, and diaspora. Did the Africana Encyclopaedia serve as a springboard for you and your co-writers?
The Africana Encyclopedia — or more precisely, DuBois’ ambition behind it — was absolutely an influence on this film. But the book itself is more of an emotional artifact, a narrative device. What it represents is just as important as what it contains, and in many ways, that representation is being actively questioned, even undermined. We were engaging with that tradition of archiving, but also remixing it; collapsing time, pulling from multiple disciplines, treating our own history as something dynamic and alive rather than fixed or neatly cataloged.
This feels like something one would need to watch 100 times to truly appreciate the richness of its details, but which artists, historical figures, musicians, etc., were most influential in the making of it?
That’s exactly the idea — it’s meant to be lived with, to unfold over time. Influence is a kind of ecosystem, right? So there are the obvious ones: JLG, Malik Sayeed, DuBois, Sun Ra, [Bisa] Butler, [Ousmane] Sembène. But also modern theorists like Fred Moten, Kodwo Eshun, Hartman. Musically, there’s everything from Thelonious Monk to DJ Screw. Structurally, there’s the density of something like Battle of Algiers but also the dream logic of The Mirror. Even contemporary Black Twitter discourse is an influence. It’s all part of the same wave.
How long did this take to put together, and do you have a favorite memory from the process?
The writing started post-pandemic and took almost six months to get a working draft. The making of it was stretched across two to three years. Favorite memory? Living and filming in Ghana over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays definitely stands out… There’s something sacred about the edit —especially at Parallax — seeing connections appear that weren’t obvious at first. But also, working with actors like Kaneza and Shaunette, watching them take these ideas and translate them into something embodied, that was beautiful.
I’m so curious about the futuristic aspect we see in Shaunette’s journey. What was it about this story that made it a framing device, perhaps, for the surrounding voices and studies?
It’s funny because The Telepathy Tapes came out after we had already finished the film, but there’s a fascinating overlap between what I’ve been learning from that podcast and what’s embedded in Shaunette’s journey. The podcast is incredible, particularly as a parent of a neurodivergent child and what my wife and I have experienced over the years. So I was already thinking a lot about what happens when thought is allowed to evolve on its own terms. Shaunette’s journey, especially as a journalist, became a way to explore that — how knowledge and memory are transmitted when we open ourselves up to a broader spectrum of frequencies. And how feelings and intentions matter.
Is it just as much a tribute to Black culture as it is to Noah and the Underground Museum? I was so moved by that.
That means a lot. Noah’s vision, and the Underground Museum’s ethos, are deeply embedded in BLKNWS — it’s all part of the same conversation. Noah believed in creating spaces where Black being and creativity could be seen on its own terms, with more rigor and flexibility. Where the line between artist and audience was blurred. That spirit is in the DNA of this film and BLKNWS the company. So yes, it’s a tribute, but also a continuation.
How has your experience in music video directing aided your approach to filmmaking?
Music videos taught me how to collapse time, how to tell a story through rhythm and association rather than exposition. That’s something I carry into everything I make. The best music videos function like cinema — think of Thriller, think of what Hype Williams was doing. There’s a visual language that’s born in that space, and I’m interested in pushing it further.
How have you found the reception to BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions?
People seem to be engaging with it the way I hoped they would — not just as a film, but as an experience, a conversation, a thing that challenges the format it exists in. The most rewarding part is hearing how different people see different things in it. It was never meant to be didactic, it’s meant to be lived with and [again], to evolve over time.
Will you be in Berlin for the Film Festival, and are you excited? Have you been before?
Yeah, I’ll be there. Berlin is one of those cities that has always embraced my work in unexpected ways. It has a deep history of radical art and thought, so I think BLKNWS will resonate in an interesting way there. I’ve been before, but each time feels different. I’m excited to see how this film lives in that space.
