Judas and the Black Messiah
Warner BrosAn ever-prominent relevance in the modern-day has given films depicting the Civil Rights Movement free reign to employ several socially relevant filmmaking tactics: to encourage discussion and to fan the flame of debate and justice, but what should film be used for if not to encourage a sense of equality? Judas and the Black Messiah takes the contemporary mood and tones of the biopic format and expresses it with a muddled understanding of not just the events of today, but those that provided inspiration and heroes to those that needed it. Shaka King directs his second feature and storms through as a man wishing to express the pangs of fear and reassuring solidarity found in a movement and pocket of history.
Unaware many may be of Fred Hampton (here played by Daniel Kaluuya), Judas and the Black Messiah seems to be a biopic that wishes to shine a light on the former Deputy Chairman of the Black Panthers. It does just that, and little more. While it may grapple with the attitudes of present-day issues and draw upon the similarities of the two, Judas and the Black Messiah can offer little more than that. It is a piece that understands the message it conveys but produces little power or optimism out of such a styling. The problem is not with the solid directing of King, but the relative lack of buoyancy or brevity found in the screenplay. There is no punch to the script, no scene that stands out as anything an audience could latch onto as ‘the moment’ that can be played over and over again. It feels rather generalised and underwhelming.
With such a floundering screenplay, it is difficult to get to grips with who these characters are. Surely they are more than generic heroes. Symbols, rather than people, are presented here. Jesse Plemmons’ role as Roy Mitchell is slick and artificial. He is solely there to represent an agency that dishes out disturbances and oppression. The same can be said for the rest of the cast too, which is a shame considering the backbreaking effort Lakeith Stanfield puts into his performance. Judas and the Black Messiah is not a film without merit, but these moments of exceptional filmmaking are mired by its vague representation of history and its generalised sense of events. Emotive filmmaking should not go through the motions, but the static predictability of technical merits do make the majority of these scenes lifeless and vague; they are shells of what they could have been.
Is ‘revolution the only solution’? Judas and the Black Messiah makes a convincing enough argument for it, revolting not just in the face of injustice, but pushing away from the nothingness of Hollywood jargon, the incessant privatisation of a movement is coated as a commemorative biopic.
A fine film is worse than a bad film. Judas and the Black Messiah is fine. It has fine performances, fine production values and displays a fine understanding of the times it takes apart. What more is there than acceptable conduct from actors and artists who should reach for the stars, rather than wallow in mediocrity? Important? Perhaps. But the protest films of this era are far less poignant and emotive than those of the past, Judas and the Black Messiah doesn’t have that spark of ingenuity or motivation. There is nothing that moves it past the sadly overwhelming consistency of safe and structured biopic filmmaking.