Forces of revolution and oppression collide and entangle in Shaka King's blistering 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah,鈥� a potent and vividly acted drama about the FBI's subversion and assassination of Chicago Black Panther leader Fred Hampton.
King's film, which he wrote with Will Berson, plunges into the dark chapter in American history when J. Edgar Hoover's FBI used surveillance, infiltration and worse to check the ascent of Black movements both peaceful (as in the case of Martin Luther King Jr., chronicled recently in Sam Pollard's 鈥淢LK/FBI鈥� documentary) and more militant.
Hampton, played by Daniel Kaluuya, was just 21 when he was shot and killed in an FBI raid in 1969. The raid was carried out, in part, due to information from Hampton's own security chief, William O'Neal (LaKeith Stanfield), a car thief turned informant four years earlier by the FBI's Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons). In the movie's first scenes, O'Neal storms into a bar in a trench coat and fedora, flashing a fake badge 鈥� a ruse that nearly scores him a car. When he's caught, the police ask him why not use a knife or a gun.
鈥淎 badge is scarier than a gun," he answers.
Faced with a lengthy prison term or going undercover with the Black Panthers, O'Neal opts to work for Mitchell. This brings us into the heady orbit of Hampton. As played by Kaluuya, he is a forceful, magnetic orator who, through toil and charisma, is building a 鈥渞ainbow coalition鈥� of the oppressed in Chicago. So commanding is Kaluuya that 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah鈥� (on HBO Max and in
It's not that the rest of the cast isn't superlative; especially good as Hampton's partner, Deborah Johnson, is Dominique Fishback 鈥� a memorable presence on 鈥淭he Deuce,鈥� and, I suspect, a future star. But 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah鈥� is best when Kaluuya's Hampton is in full, fiery voice and King's film is directly channeling the Black power movement of the era.
If Kaluuya gives 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah鈥� its strength, Stanfield supplies its unease. King doesn't dwell on O'Neal's psychological stress as an informant the way that Sidney Lumet's police corruption opus 鈥淧rince and the City鈥� does. King relies on juxtapositions of O'Neal's time among the Panthers and sit-downs with Mitchell. The FBI agent believes he's on the side of justice. Comparing the Black Panthers to white supremacists, he says: 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 cheat your way to equality and you certainly can鈥檛 shoot your way to it."
But Mitchell is an operative in Hoover's FBI. When Hoover (Martin Sheen) makes an appearance, 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah鈥� hints at a wider war of oppression 鈥� a war, Hoover says, over 鈥渙ur way of life.鈥� This makes King's film a clear counterpoint to Spike Lee's 鈥淏lacKkKlansman," which showed the FBI鈥檚 Counter Intelligence Program (Cointelpro) aiding, not sabotaging, Black radicals.
Caught in between the Panthers and the feds is O'Neal. For Stanfield, the gifted actor of 鈥淪orry to Bother You鈥� and 鈥淜nives Out,鈥� it's a compelling tightrope of a slippery performance, poised between empathy and judgment for the pitiable O'Neal. As damning as the film's title is, Stanfield's O'Neal is never quite aware of the seriousness of the game he's playing until its gruesome and appalling end.
It's a balance reflective of King's film overall. 鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah," resurrecting a painful saga of police racial injustice, is a self-evidently timely film without stating its contemporary resonance literally. If anything, you want it draw Stanfield and Kaluuya together more often than it does. Instead, the movie devolves and grows more sorrowful as Hampton's movement is stymied, and we're left feeling the loss of a history that might have been.
鈥淛udas and the Black Messiah,鈥� a Warner Bros. release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America for violence and pervasive language. Running time: 126 minutes. Three and a half stars out of four.
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Follow AP Film Writer Jake Coyle on Twitter at: http://twitter.com/jakecoyleAP
Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
