When I was young, I remember there were always two cartons of orange juice in the fridge: one with pulp and one without. The one with pulp was reserved for my father, the other for the rest of the family (even though my sister was a milk person). Every weekend, my father would come to breakfast and pour himself a tall glass of nasty-looking orange juice. I'd look at his glass with resentment, the small pieces of fruit floating around inside of it. I remember one time I asked him, "Dad, why do you drink orange juice with pulp?" He finished his swig, dropped his glass, and said to me, "Because, son - pulp makes the juice." I didn't understand how that applied to cinema, and life as well, until I saw Judas and the Messiah.
The film chronicles the latter years of the late Fred Hampton's life (played by Daniel Kaluuya). We see him and his esteemed and proud organization, the Black Panther Party (BPP), combat poverty, racism, and injustices that face African-Americans both in Chicago and across the nation. In tandem, we see the BPP infiltrated by Bill O'Neal (LaKeith Stanfield), a crook turned criminal informant, and observed by his FBI boss, Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons, also hilariously known as "Meth Damon"). As events unfold, Hampton becomes the center of life as we know it in the film, highlighting what the fight for freedom and those against it can do to a man.
Point blank: The film was a complex look at a historic figure whose representation was long overdue. It was one that I enjoyed as an enthusiast, but one that was challenging to lean into. Here's two reasons to see it, one thing to consider when you see it, and one reason not to see it.
1. Learn the Name Daniel Kaluuya (And That's About It)
While Get Out and Queen and Slim showed me that Daniel Kaluuya can dance with a partner, Judas and the Black Messiah shows me that Kaluuya can take center stage and command the spotlight with the best of them. He's not an up-and-coming, young Black actor - he's here and his acting truths are self-evident. It's a daunting task to portray a prominent Black figure. Look at Denzel as Malcolm X, Will Smith as Muhammad Ali, Chadwick Boseman as James Brown - it's not easy. But when we watch Kaluuya's dedication come alive onscreen in his speech primarily, the most striking of his scenes could claim their place alongside the greatest portrayals in cinematic history.
Aside from Kaluuya, the array of main supporting actors (Stanfield, Plemons, Dominique Fishback as Deborah Johnson) had ample screentime to show more of their chops but didn't for the most part from my view. I believe that any number of actors could have done what they did, minimally presented the characters they were. They carried themselves decently, but, surprisingly, I found myself more enthused by the performance(s) of Rod Collins (Amari Cheatom) and Judy Harmon (Dominique Thorne). Though their screen time wasn't as spotlighted, they showed up when it mattered most. In terms of dialogued exchanges, a nominee for my favorite was between Hampton and Collins. The grandiose meeting, in a building chock-full of beret bearing gun-toters, is one of the only times we see Hampton in a position of slight meekness. During, Cheatom's public energy matched Kaluuya's; it was a rarity in the film that brought me a significant joy.
2. A Timely, Resonating Story
In this, the Black Lives Matter era of our lives, the revival of Fred Hampton's life and legacy is one that plays to our reality's relevance, but also accompanies similarly set recent releases (The Trial of the Chicago 7, Mangrove, One Night in Miami). The acute difference between this film and those others is that we have one real key focus: Hampton. O'Neal's involvement is certainly a focus, but Hampton's portrayal is what captivates us and makes us watch the movie from start to finish. Nevertheless, we understand from this film that the issues of racism, corruption, and injustice plagued us then and continue to plague us now. Judas and the Black Messiah demonstrates two clear things: that Fred Hampton left this world too soon at the age of twenty-one and we are still a ways away from solving such prevalent and longstanding issues in our society.
Kaluuya and Hampton's story are much of this film's juice. So, what makes it a bit tougher to consume? Here's one thing to consider when you see it.
3. Sensationalization Sells
If you're a film buff, you're familiar with the era of films that fit the "Blaxploitation" bill. For those who are unfamiliar, here's Wikipedia's page describing it in-depth. While Judas and the Black Messiah is not a movie that is "supercharged, bad-talking, highly romanticized" or about "superstuds, the pimps, the private eyes and the pushers" who "make whitey's corrupt world safe for Black pimping, Black private-eyeing and Black pushing"...it is in the ballpark. How so?
The movie portrays Hampton's fight for the Black population's safety. We see Panthers slay cops, a broad day shootout between the two parties, the center-stage power of Marxist themes, and the people's power. Character-wise, Hampton is most easily remembered in the movie during his speeches. One that sticks out in my mind particularly is his "I Am...A Revolutionary" speech in that hall. The one where he shouts that phrase, jumps up and down screaming the word "high", and realizes where he stands. It was raucous, but that's what stands out to us. The clip featured at the end shows us that that scene was fabricated; Hampton actually said that phrase outside, fewer times, and among a smaller crowd. But what matters most was the high-octane, supercharged demonstration of Hampton's leadership and ability to move his believers.
There were times in the movie I felt that the sensationalized, controversial, and/or marketable pieces of the film were given too much. The actions of the authorities, Hampton's public addresses, and a good amount of senseless violence commanded screen time. Even the Panthers, though much of what we saw was accurate, were predominantly presented in a way that didn't fully represent them. They were violent, yes. They fed children, yes. But the Panthers were more than we saw. They were the Ten-Point Program. They were survival programs we didn't hear about, like clothing distribution, lessons on self-defense and first aid, transportation to upstate prisons for family members of inmates, an emergency-response ambulance program, drug and alcohol rehabilitation, and testing for sickle-cell disease (all at no charge). They were Liberation Schools and the Oakland Community School and the Intercommunal Youth Institute. And they weren't all aggressive, jive-talkin', and speech-y. They were far more diverse in the ways they looked and sounded.
But we didn't particularly see all of these things. We saw what its creators presumed would sell. Did it make for a good movie? Absolutely. And it is a challenge to do a piece like this without accentuating its sexiest parts? Absolutely. Still, the ability to tell an even more well-rounded story was there and it didn't materialize. It materialized more as hard-to-chew, palpable events and scenes. There was a lot of pulp here - but maybe that's what makes the juice.
Here's one reason to not see Judas and the Black Messiah:
1. Missing Exposition
Fred Hampton's character felt like it only existed on two ends of a spectrum, one where he is a semi-verbose, emphatic speech-giver or a whispering, semi-shy romantic. At times, he gave whispered speeches, and at times, he whispered emphatically. That was the portrayal of Hampton. We only saw minor bits and pieces that served to try and show us the man that he was outside of being a Black Panther, but the tendency for him to break into speeches took me away from seeing him for who he was as a person outside of fighting for the revolution. The scenes where his relationship is highlighted made attempts at showing us his softer side, but they, too, were underdeveloped from my point of view.
In regard to Mitchell and O'Neal, I've got a ton of questions. I can think of no other time in cinematic criminal informant and agent history where a C.I. was taken care of so well. So, why was O'Neal? What was Mitchell's specific, personal motivation to wait on O'Neal's beck and call? Who was Bill O'Neal aside from being a crook turned informant and infiltrator? Did Mitchell, in an interesting position, ever take time to consider his personal beliefs on the matters at hand while sitting across from his shallow, villainous director boss? I'm not certain, but it's alright - at least we learned Mitchell's daughter is so popular that J. Edgar Hoover knew who she was in the film (/s).
There were opportunities in the film to expound upon features of the Black Panther Party that would have given us a more positive and full-fledged image. There were opportunities for thought-provoking character development for each prominent portrayal. There were opportunities where we could've learned less about Jake Winters "passing gas" as a child and more about Hampton's formative years. They weren't taken. For me, that's why this movie is really good, but not outstanding.
Judas and the Black Messiah is confidently led by a strong Daniel Kaluuya and complimented by a thrilling and timely story. While some "blaxploitative" elements and a lack of development take away from the film's overall impressiveness, it is an alluring watch that can captivate an audience like Hampton did many years ago. I recommend seeing Judas and the Black Messiah. Some won't. Either way, I Scene That.
