Fifty-six years ago, the American writer James Baldwin wrote that “to be a Negro in this country [The United States] and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.” Regina King’s “One Night in Miami” (2021), which takes place roughly four years after Baldwin said these famous words in “The Negro in American Culture”, grapples with the fact that they seem almost timeless. It is easy, after all, to look at the progress achieved in the decades since the 60’s and, caught in its spell, become complacent. King’s directorial debut, adapted by Kemp Powers and based on his stage play of the same name, uses a fictional meeting between Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Sam Cooke, and Jim Brown to illustrate that relationships between Black Americans and white Americans were often characterised by cruelty, fear, resentment, subjugation, and dependence. Relationships that, in spite of all the noble efforts to introduce greater equality, persist to this day.
From the outset, “One Night in Miami” has a quiet charm. Its opening sequences, which give us the look into the lives of the four main protagonists, open a window into a mid-60’s United States free from revisionism and tampering; whilst the lack of clean oversimplifications gives the flick a refreshing, honest, trustworthy voice. The editing is sharp, and the camerawork lingers just enough that you are able to soak in every worthwhile shot. Together with King’s direction and Powers’ screenplay, the complete picture is one of striking energy and authenticity.
Terrance Blanchard’s score punctuates the film with a soft and alluring jazz-ridden power. Expertly navigating through every dramatic beat and building up to each subtle tonal shift, he gives an often unbearable weight to the many moments of pain, relief, and catharsis that characterise this picture. The emotion of his pieces is spaced out in such a careful way that you appreciate them when they appear and miss them dearly when they are gone. Like the rest of the artistic direction, the infectious rhythm of his piano feels entirely appropriate to both the period and likewise to the scope of the project; letting the music reflect, and ultimately enhance, the deliberately narrow and carefully human focus of the story that unfolds. Something more grand and sweeping might have given the film a fiery character, but Blanchard’s jazz gives the film a soul that it would have undoubtedly suffered without.
The picture begins with each character enduring an obstacle that reflects their internal struggle. Muhammad Ali is preparing for his fight with Sonny Liston and upcoming conversion to Islam; Malcolm X is opening up to his wife, Betty, about the shitstorm that’s going to ensue when he leaves the Nation of Islam; Jim Brown suffers the racist hypocrisy of a family friend while travelling home through Georgia; and Sam Cooke battles with a hostile white audience at the Copacabana club in New York. They bring these moments with them when they come together in Miami in celebration of Ali’s win over Liston, and Malcolm invites them over to his small motel room. Deprived of the booze and girls they were expecting, they fall into frustration as the night draws on. This soon spirals into a kind of cabin fever, which snowballs into anger, and that’s when the close friends begin to argue; and it’s in their arguing that the musicality of the film’s dialogue and the power of its script comes into full view.
The conversations that erupt are not just political and personal, but philosophical and psychological. This is a movie about ideas. Malcolm X has been bottling up his fear for his family’s safety, but he chooses to express this fear by judging Cooke for his lack of explicit activism regarding the struggle of African-Americans. Cooke defends himself, arguing that his artistic and financial success is in and of itself a challenge to the hegemonic racism infecting the United States, and that he’s an inspiration to young black men and women all across the country. Malcolm refuses to relent and continues with his scathing judgments and impassioned political rhetoric, much to the continuing anger and frustration of his guests. While Malcolm is taking a phone call, Cooke, Brown, and Ali share a drink and talk about Islam with one of his bodyguards. It’s clear that Ali is looking for affirmation regarding his upcoming conversion, but the man’s words don’t exactly settle his nerves. When Brown asks the guard why he needs religion to defend himself when he could just join a gang, the guard asks: “what’s the difference?”. Brown opens up to Ali about his ambition to drop football and pursue an acting career, and Cooke eventually admits to Ali that he has been quietly writing music that deals with the racial issues Malcolm attacked him for avoiding.
The fundamental message of this story seems to be that the struggle for racial equality in America was fought, and is still being fought, by a multitude of different kinds of people in a host of conflicting and often incommensurable ways. The four in focus have emerged out of diverging lives; and the tension between them lies in the particularity of those experiences and the racist affliction that they all continue to suffer in common. Malcolm X’s singular focus on direct and vitriolic political action, in tandem with his incessant fear of the future, however, has led him to disregard this understanding in favour of an absolutist, inhumane approach to how black Americans should contribute to the cause. Cooke and Ali are upset by all the fire and brimstone, but Brown pushes Malcolm to realise that he is looking at the three of them as tools for a better future rather than as nuanced, fallible human beings navigating a complex and often unforgiving world.
The moments that follow this are perhaps the best the film has to offer, and so I will not detail them here. What I will say, though, is that they drive home a second fundamental message of the film: that their differing, and sometimes conflicting, experiences, lifestyles, successes, and personalities are the means by which African-Americans will affirm their significance as individuals. Cherishing black artists and athletes is vital if the world that X wants to militantly usher in is going to contain anything that can be called black culture. But sacrificing all cultural advancements for the sake of political ones, as X once demanded, will only preclude this black culture from surviving the political struggle such that it is recognised as a central part of American culture.
All of this captivating writing is glued together by the outstanding performances. Kingsley Ben-Adir (Malcolm X), Eli Goree (Muhammad Ali), Aldis Hodge (Jim Brown), and Leslie Odom Jr. (Sam Cooke) are perfectly chosen for their respective roles, with Ben-Adir’s performance in particular being perhaps the film’s best. Altogether, It’s endlessly satisfying to see them bounce off one another in the creeping claustrophobia of the motel room. Films like this rest on strong performances, and I’m glad to say that, without exception, “One Night in Miami” can rest easy.
The picture is by no means perfect. Sometimes the location feels stale and worn out, whilst the plot often wanders too long in the direction of themes and questions that it has already exhausted. This isn’t criminal, but it’s perhaps a little foolish. Adding some new environments for the actors to explore would have undoubtedly spiced up some of the conflicts and likewise broken some of the sameness. But these are admittedly only minor issues. “One Night in Miami” is an intimate, character-driven deep-dive into the mindset of four exceptional African-Americans whose lives had a monumental impact on both the civil rights movement and the affirmation of black excellence. Its moral, philosophical messages, and psycho-social observations, are both electrifying and educational in a time where honest and nuanced commentary is needed most. And its release alongside a wave of new films centred on noteworthy African-Americans, from Sam Pollard’s MLK/FBI to Shaka King’s Judas and the Black Messiah, solidifies its place within a Holywood reawakening.
The film as a whole is endlessly rewarding because its message is relevant, powerful, and uncomfortable. Three virtues that are, sadly, often missing in Hollywood’s delusional tendency to try and neatly solve racial issues with car fantasies (see Driving Miss Daisy and Green Book).
Tom Osborne 