Rating: R
Runtime: 2 hours, 6 minutes
Director: Shaka King
Quick Impressions:
Watching Daniel Kaluuya actually get to give his speech for Best Supporting Actor was an early highlight of the Golden Globes. I had no emotional investment in the win itself for the simple reason that I hadn’t seen the performance yet. (For a while, I was scrambling to find any Oscar-buzzy movie available for home streaming. Now I’m struggling to find time to watch the multitude of worthy films that released all at once.)
But just hearing Kaluuya give his speech felt like a big win for the audience because he almost didn’t get the chance. It was so anticlimactic to expect the first televised acceptance speech of awards season (that I’m aware of), and then have Laura Dern smile, cite technical difficulties, and accept the award on Kaluuya’s behalf. You have no idea the sinking feeling that gave me. I’m not criticizing Dern who handled the situation with poise and composure. But I thought to myself, “The very first winner is having a problem with his sound, so they’re just going to act like he isn’t speaking and move on? That bodes ill for the rest of the ceremony. All of the nominees are there virtually. If the show’s way of handling technical difficulties is to deny the winner a chance to speak within seconds, then we won’t get to hear any acceptance speeches!” (I mean, one thing I’ve learned sitting through virtual kindergarten meetings with my son this year is that technical difficulties happen constantly. If people got immediately booted every time there was some technical issue, no online student would be in school anymore!)
So I was thrilled, delighted (and massively relieved) when Kaluuya suddenly popped back up, yelling about being done dirty. He has such a big personality. Dern accepting on his behalf did not remotely do justice to the wonderful energy of what Kaluuya had to say for himself. (The incident is actually a brilliant illustration of why we all benefit when diverse voices are allowed to speak for themselves. Wouldn’t any awards show be awful if nobody gave an acceptance speech? Why bother having a show?)
I was also happy to see Kaluuya win because although I hadn’t seen the performance yet, I like the actor. Back when Get Out was getting so much attention, I watched multiple interviews with Kaluuya and found him a thoughtful and interesting person. If he ends up the favorite for Best Supporting Actor this year (which seems likely but not certain since it’s such a weird year), I look forward to another Oscar season chockful of interviews with him.
The Good:
Personally, I would give Kaluuya an Oscar just for the way he says, “the Black Panther Party.” (If you can’t hear his voice when you read that sentence, then you need to see the movie immediately.) I assume that’s the way Fred Hampton actually spoke. His cadence is oddly euphonic, almost hypnotic. I would follow him, too, just for the pleasure of listening to him speak. Hampton is a historical figure that has come into my awareness only very recently. Like most Americans, I’ve heard and read Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on numerous occasions, and like many of us, I’m also a bit familiar with the work of Malcolm X. But when I was a child, I had the vague impression that the Black Panthers were dangerous criminals. Granted, I didn’t spend much time thinking about them, but almost everything I had heard was negative. In fact, in this story, the FBI relays the view of the Panthers that I had always had as a child. They were like the KKK but black. They were violent and to be avoided at all costs. As I grew older, I began to learn a bit more, to develop a more nuanced view. I realized that there was more to the Panthers than I had known, but I still didn’t know anything much about individuals within the movement. I had heard of Fred Hampton before seeing this movie, but that’s only because I remember Kelvin Harris, Jr. playing him a few months ago in The Trial of the Chicago 7. (That was an underrated performance I really liked, by the way.) Does it often happens that two high profile actors in Oscar-buzzy films play the same icon in the same year? (Would you call Hampton an icon? In this film, he certainly seems like one, but he may be more of a niche icon. I’m willing to bet that I’m not the only white person who grew up in the 1980s and 90s having no knowledge of Hampton and his work whatsoever.)
Kaluuya brings the character to life so vividly that he had me longing to join the Black Panthers. He plays Hampton equal parts charismatic and vulnerable, as neither a hero nor villain (though much closer to a hero), but a complicated figure who under adverse circumstances achieved remarkable things and, thus, made powerful enemies. If you have HBO Max and you’re on the fence about seeing this film, you absolutely should. Kaluuya’s performance alone makes the watch worth it. He’s fortunate to have landed the perfect type of role for winning Best Actor. He truly isn’t the lead (even though his name does come first in the opening credits). The entire film is about Hampton, and he dominates the story, yet that story shows us how the people around Hampton feel about him and react to him. We don’t really get Hampton from Hampton’s point of view. But boy to we get Hampton! Kaluuya makes him feel real, living. (And wait until you listen to him say, “The Black Panther Party.”)
The whole cast is actually very good in this film. I have heard absolutely no one suggest that LaKeith Stanfield will get a Best Actor nomination, but I think that’s too bad, because his turn as Judas (aka Bill O’Neal) is pretty amazing, too. (On a related note, I don’t understand the behavior of the real life O’Neal that learn from the brief interview scenes framing the story. He must not be a God-fearing man.) I’ve really loved Stanfield ever since we saw him in the delightful (and increasingly crazy) satire Sorry to Bother You (which was my husband’s favorite film that summer). (If you don’t know Stanfield, he’s one of the detectives in Knives Out, and he’s–memorably–the guy in Get Out who actually gets to yell out the title, imploring Kaluuya’s character to escape while he can.) Stanfield is so emotive here. At many moments, I palpably felt his anguish, and I grew frustrated on his behalf. Ironically, I wanted so much for him to leave the country and escape. (It’s ironic because then you’re yelling, “Get out! Get out!” at the guy who yelled, “Get out!” in Get Out.) This man had my sympathy through the entire movie, kind of like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Departed. Forcing (or coercing) someone else to do evil feels like it should be some special kind of grave sin. It seems much more wicked to me than behaving badly out of desperation. This movie and The Trial of the Chicago 7 should absolutely be watched together since they tell overlapping stories.
The FBI agents in this film seem so nefarious. If movies have taught me to ask one question, it’s, “Why and how exactly did J. Edgar Hoover get so much power? Why was this man making life/death decisions all the time?” (I don’t mean that the stakes were high. I mean that he literally decided which Americans got to live and which had to die. He marked people for death, and then actually had them killed, seemingly on a whim.) I have to admit that American History is not my field, and I know basically nothing about the complexities of running this country (or any other) in the 20th century. I have not researched this subject in any way (unless you count reading multiple biographies of Marilyn Monroe in middle school). But either Hoover was a demented, tormented, strange man given far too much power, or somebody running Hollywood really hates him. (It’s the first thing. I’m sure.) I have never seen a movie about him that did not leave me feeling unsettled and sorry for the people he decided to off. In this film, J. Edgar Hoover is played by Martin Sheen, which struck me as odd casting. (I will admit, I can think of no good reason why Sheen shouldn’t play Hoover. It just feels weird.) His orders are carried out by FBI minions played by Robert Longstreet and Jesse Plemons. Longstreet’s character comes across as pretty slimy, but Plemons does a good job of showing us his character’s discomfort at the decisions being made. (And yet, he always goes along with them. He always follows orders. But wouldn’t you if the guy calling the shots arbitrarily had people murdered in gruesome ways whenever it was convenient?)
Judas and the Black Messiah does an extraordinarily good job of portraying the members of the Black Panthers as both sympathetic and complicated. The movie doesn’t sugar coat things. Violence happens, and the Panthers are not innocent of gunfire or bloodshed. But the movie contextualizes the violence for us, giving us a peek into the world from the point of view of characters who behave as if they are at war. (And they are. Hoover confirms this, saying very clearly that his agents should behave as if they are in combat, trying to survive a war. He’s approaching all organizations fighting for rights as enemy combatants, so that they behave like soldiers on the defensive should not be surprising.) We get some fantastic, energized supporting turns from Ashton Sanders, Algee Smith, and Dominique Thorne, but the most impressive performance (besides Kaluuya’s and Stanfield’s) comes from Dominique Fishback who plays Deborah Johnson, the pensive, philosophical poet who falls in love with Hampton, despite the obvious risks of being associated with him.
I also liked Judas‘s score more than I’ve liked most this year. Several times, I thought to myself, “What a fascinating choice!” I lack the musical vocabulary to explain properly. I can only say that time and again, the score did something I was not expecting. In fact, I never would have thought of arranging the music in the way the movie does. It’s inventive and mood-setting. Craig Harris and Mark Isham deserve some Oscar attention as far as I’m concerned, but I have no idea if others feel that way, too.
Another huge strength of the movie is its title. (This seems like a little thing, but it’s not really.) Surely (especially after Kaluuya’s Globes win) people will watch a movie called Judas and the Black Messiah. Not only does it sound tantalizing, but it also gives us an instant framework to play with, a template to keep with us in our minds as we watch. Even with little knowledge of black history, we know what we’re about to see. The movie will introduce us to a figure somebody has labeled “the black Messiah,” and the movie will be about the person who betrays him. Not everybody knows Fred Hampton. (After watching this and The Trial of the Chicago 7, I realize that everybody in American probably should know Hampton, but I can assure you that not everybody does.) I think most Americans are familiar with the story of Judas betraying Jesus, though. (You don’t have to be Christian to know the basic idea. It’s bled into our secular culture.) So presenting the story to people in this way is really smart. If the movie were called The Fred Hampton Story, What Bill O’Neal Did, or What Happened in Chicago, people wouldn’t know what to expect, and they might not find a point of connection to enable them to engage with the movie in the first place. The title transforms unfamiliar names and events into a variation on a story that is intimately familiar. That’s really smart. It helps the ignorant (like me) to watch the movie more actively, to feel like a part of the story right from the jump.
Best Scene Visually:
There’s so much action in this movie, and the shots of the cars all look really cool. (The cinematography’s good in general.) I love the scene that introduces us to Bill, the not-quite-clever-enough car thief. When the guys try to remove him from the car (by cutting through the roof among other things), I see a visual metaphor for Bill’s entire story. People are always coming at him from all sides. What gives him power temporarily is his (fake) badge. But by the end, I think the film implies that even Bill’s real badge is kind of fake. He’s working with the real FBI, but what they’re doing doesn’t feel very legitimate. They’re just (ab)using their power to commit crimes. In the beginning of the film, Bill presents a fake badge and steals a car. Later on, by working with the FBI, Bill scores an actual car as a perk of the job. He gets both of these cars by committing immoral acts that he knows are wrong. Perhaps this screenplay deserves some Oscar attention because it’s a well-sculpted film, selling its story from the first frame.
Best Scene Action Sequence:
The shoot out at the headquarters marks quite a turn in the story. Once things escalate here, the trajectory of the entire movement changes. If we had any doubts before, we can see now that Fred Hampton isn’t going to escape with his life (even thought he’s not there).
Best Scene:
I like the sequence when Bill learns what the Black Panthers do to spies within their ranks. Not surprisingly, he gets scared. But the more we learn about the murder of the “mole,” the more terrified we all become. Plemons plays the moment of discovery brilliantly. Bill is scared. But what Plemons’s character learns terrifies him. (And us.) Everyone is trapped by this awful system, and the people running it are deranged and deliberately malicious. It’s disturbing stuff.
I also like the scene when Fishback’s character reads Hampton her poem. Fishback and Kaluuya have wonderful chemistry.
Most Oscar-Worthy Moment, Daniel Kaluuya:
After his initial release from prison, Hampton speaks in front of a congregation gathered in a church. (It’s a larger group than the congregation of that church. I mean “congregation” in the sense that people have congregated there to listen to him.) In the face of others’ tragedy (and triumph through self-sacrifice), he reflects on what it means to live and die for the people, and he affirms that this is precisely what he intends to do. He celebrates his dedication to the cause and seems to welcome coming martyrdom. It’s not that he wants to die. It’s that he’s willing to die, to give everything for the people, and he’s self-aware enough to realize that his life will probably end violently as a direct result of this dedication. Kaluuya plays this moment with a fiery enthusiasm that shows us why Hampton must have been hard to resist in person. His co-star Dominique Fishback is also brilliant in this scene. I found it easy to empathize with her character and wouldn’t be surprised to see a supporting nomination for her, too.
The Negatives:
I never really believed that Martin Sheen was J. Edgar Hoover. It’s not that he gives a bad performance. He delivers all his lines well. I suppose Sheen just seems like a mildly beneficent presence to me, and Hoover is revealed as such a villain. The depiction of Hoover (what he says, what he means) sent shivers down my spine. But I always had the strong sense that Sheen was just dressed up in a costume pretending to be Hoover so we could get a sense of the true nature of the man and the evil of what he did. In contrast, Daniel Kaluuya disappears into Fred Hampton, so we stop thinking about the actor and think only of the character, as if the story we’re seeing is really happening before our eyes.
Probably the story could be called too one-sided. It left me incredibly sympathetic to the Black Panthers in Chicago, maybe too sympathetic. (Yes, it’s great that they fed breakfast to school children, but they also killed a bunch of people by repeatedly shooting them with some serious guns.) I appreciate what one grieving mother tells Hampton about her son, who has been shot down after going on a rampage with a gun, something like, “He did that, but that wasn’t all he did.” Well, no, but if you shoot a police officer in the face multiple times, that tends to be the thing people remember. (It’s like Brock Turner. He probably was a very promising swimmer, but that’s not what got people’s attention.) (To be clear, I’m not equating someone who attacks the police who murdered his friend with someone who rapes because of opportunity. I’m just saying that when you do a big, alarming thing, everybody tends to remember you for that.) The movie does a good job of showing us that the Panthers’ violence was often directly retaliatory. They don’t shoot first. They shoot back. And I can certainly understand their rage that the government will not only give them no justice but is also actively trying to murder them (even going so far as inciting them to commit violent acts in order to trap and kill them). I’m just noting my own tendency to get emotionally involved in movies and guessing that this film gives us perhaps too positive a view of Fred Hampton and his associates. Even if Hoover was bad (a fact of which I’ve been thoroughly convinced long before now), that doesn’t mean that the people he was set against might not have been doing some very bad things also.
But if you go into this movie with a healthy dose of skepticism (and just accept that Martin Sheen in J. Edgar Hoover whether or not it seems likely) then there’s really no problem. I do wish we got to hear a bit from Hampton’s son and widow directly. But Judas and the Black Messiah features some strong performances and tells an interesting story in a well-paced, engaging way. I can’t complain.
Overall:
Daniel Kaluuya is excellent as Fred Hampton in Judas and the Black Messiah. I’d give him and Oscar just for the memorable way he says “the Black Panther party.” LaKeith Stanfield and Dominique Fishback give strong performances, too. If you have HBO Max, why not check this movie out? It’s worth watching.