I had to remind myself multiple times while watching One Night in Miami that the story it is telling did not actually happen. That Civil Rights leader Malcolm X, King of Soul Sam Cooke, and NFL star Jim Brown didn’t actually show up in Miami to celebrate Muhammad Ali’s (still known as Cassius Clay at the time) iconic victory over Sonny Lister for the World Heavyweight Championship. That their divergent ideologies on the black movement in America at the time didn’t clash so dramatically or literally in such a context. And that Clays’ joining the Nation of Islam or Cooke’s release of “A Change is Gonna Come” weren’t precipitated by direct interactions with these other legends of black America. I had to remind myself because the movie does a really good job of convincing you otherwise.
All four of these men did know each other in fact, as writer Kemp Powers would have you know, adapting the film from his own one-act play (he was also recently a writer and co-director on Soul). And given the strength of their individual beliefs and identities, it’s not hard to imagine how they would have gotten along with each other in private; how they would have understood or bickered with each other as they experienced racial issues in an extremely racially charged time from such diverse vantage points.
One Night in Miami is the feature directing debut of Regina King, coming off of consecutive Academy Award wins: an Oscar for If Beale Street Could Talk and an Emmy for Watchmen. And it’s an extremely competent first movie too. It’s not overly ambitious or distinctive, but shot elegantly, lusciously toned as befitting the era; and King seems to understand her strength is in working with actors -and that is essential for a piece like this.
A film structured like this would be dependent on the performances, even if they weren’t of four cultural legends. Once again, it’s a stage adaptation that doesn’t provide a terribly versatile backdrop for them -though King and Powers vary it up by getting away from the hotel room from time to time. Yet it doesn’t really matter because all four actors embody these figures superbly, and though the film isn’t quite as democratic as it perhaps wants to be (Malcolm and Cooke dominate the ideological power play that comprises most of the evening), each actor gets more than a few moments to stand out and make their mark.
Kingsley Ben-Adir and Eli Goree are the relative newcomers, as Malcolm and Clay respectively, and are both exemplary. Though he’s no Denzel Washington, Ben-Adir channels that fiery Malcolm X passion and commitment with such seamless confidence and gravitas. More often than not, he’s the centre of attention, his radicalism spotlighted as the film engages with both his principles and his character flaws in an honest way that sometimes makes him out to be more self-serving and arrogant than he’s typically portrayed. But it’s entirely believable and in-line with his values and character. Goree too, though perhaps cast mostly due to his resemblance to Muhammad Ali, taps into more than just the surface identity of this star still early in his career. He plays the youth of Cassius Clay very consciously, with a number of references to his age (twenty-two) in relation to his climbing celebrity. But he also plays well this man at a crossroads, uncertain of his responsibilities and spirituality -not devoid of them, but needing guidance, which Malcolm is only too happy to provide.
Then there’s Brown, played by the continually impressive Aldis Hodge. He might be the least showcased character and without any strong opinions, but Hodge has a real screen presence as he acts as the go-between for the other characters and endures a scene early on with Beau Bridges that is quite sobering. In fact the films’ failure to adequately follow up on that encounter is one of its only weak spots. His aspirations and ideas are kept mostly to himself, and guarded among those of his more extroverted friends -and he shares a lot in common with Cooke, played by Leslie Odom Jr., who comes closest of the four to breaking out as the films’ strongest contender. The script of course allows for Odom to show off his musical talents, but his nuanced emotional performance is quite astonishing too. There’s a sense of immense pressure hanging over Cooke, exacerbated of course whenever Malcolm lays into his career choices, and Odoms’ quiet embarrassment yet passionate conviction in his work rivals that of Malcolm at every turn. You really get the sense this is a tense friendship, built on a level of personal respect, but strong political disappointment.
And this films’ Malcolm and Cooke, as true as they are to their real world counterparts, are also avatars for a very particular kind of political discourse that is as much present now as it was in 1964. Malcolm spends a lot of time chastising Cooke for being essentially a tool of white supremacy in his view; for writing and performing songs that don’t advance the cause for black Americans. Cooke however, defends himself aggressively for the success he’s earned and the work he’s done to benefit black artists behind the scenes. And it cuts deeply to the issue of black celebrities having to be ambassadors more than just people. Sidney Poitier (who incidentally would have fit right in here) famously felt he couldn’t diversify his acting choices because of a responsibility to be a positive representative of black masculinity. Cooke likewise feels strongly about black rights, but he doesn’t want that to be his identity, he’s content to make the music he does and it’s gotten him to the point where, as Brown points out, he’s the only one of them who doesn’t work for a white boss. It’s the difference between fighting for personal success and fighting for widespread advancement -and the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Particularly it speaks to a strong divide in the means to achieving desirable ends, and especially that division as it applies to left-wing politics in the United States, with Malcolm the radical and Cooke the mere liberal. One Night in Miami doesn’t really fall down on either side, as extensively as its’ debated -both standpoints are valid and both clouded by bias. The point is that they’re in this together, working within their arenas towards the same goal.
One Night in Miami is sure to be compared a lot to Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom -both adaptations of plays about race featuring significant figures of black history that are set in the past yet soundly relevant to modern times coming out within a month of each other. It’s unfortunate because both are very good and for a lot of the same reasons, but also quite different in their approach and execution. Both are well worth seeing and deserving of the praise heaped upon them. One Night in Miami might be more accessible, slightly more simple -it resurrects three important and influential men of African-American culture (Brown is still alive) and a key moment of black history to imagine conversations that may not have literally happened, but should be presently allowed to. That it’s a strong showcase of each of its actors and the skills of a promising new director only increases its’ fascinating appeal.
And that Leslie Odom Jr. version of “A Change is Gonna Come” is really something as well!
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