That class covered all of the major styles and movements in theatre. Which included a brief stint in melodrama and minstrelcy. I was shocked and taken by American Minstrelcy. So my professor suggested that I go find a film called Bamboozled (2000), by Spike Lee, and give it a watch. It was hard to find. I believe I finally found a copy to request at Fresno State's (my alma matter's) library.
I honestly can't say that I was ready for that movie. I was confused and a little angry at it. But it stayed with me.
Then, flash forward some many years later, to 2019, and The Criterion Collection announces a restored transfer to be released on BluRay. Fast forward to a few days ago, in 2020, when racial tensions in this country have been brought to the fore and many people are reckoning with America's racist history. And I remember Bamboozled. My memory is a bit foggy: I can't really remember if I liked the movie or not, but I remember it turning me off of Spike Lee. But I'm older, now. Wiser, hopefully. And I have seen more of Lee's oeuvre and found his work to be dependably thought-provoking, if not genius.
And so, given a fresh appreciation for one of America's premier filmmakers, and a fresh eye for themes of race in America, I ordered myself a copy of Criterion's restored BluRay, and sat down with it for an evening.
I. What Is It?
This is the story of Pierre Delacroix (Damon Wayans), a TV writer looking for a way to get out of his lackluster, dead-end network job. He devises a pitch for a variety show that will be so radically offensive, so clearly distasteful, that the network will have to fire him, and release him from his contract. He devises Man Tan's New Millenium Minstrel Show, plucking two down-on-their-luck performers (Savion Glover and Tommy Davidson) from the street to "blacken up" and seal the deal. The only problem? Minstrelcy is a major hit. And the network, and America, love it.II. Scorched Earth Satire
I don't think I've ever seen a movie that dares its audience to hate it so. Spike Lee knows that what he is presenting to you is offensive and crass, but he allows it to shine in vivid color and detail. Hell, Davidson and Glover are downright funny. But right as you start to laugh at the minstrel bits and the "real coon" antics, you remember that what you are watching is deeply, terribly racist. And that's the brilliant thing about this movie. It lures you into the trap of entertainment and shames you for taking part. It's no wonder critics hated this thing (it sports a 51% on RottenTomatoes): how could you like a thing that forces you to confront racism in American entertainment and shames you for your complicity in it? I walked away from this viewing exhausted. Wrung out. Pummeled and confused.
Lee loads his gun with ample ammunition and proceeds, over the course of 135 minutes, to spray bullets with merciless abandon. He targets: those white people who exploit black culture and brag about being "more black than a black person;" entertainers who become complicit in show business' penchant for dehumanization; white writers and entertainers who will excuse their own racism in the name of "satire;" revolutionaries whose ideals and beliefs change with the wind; people who think they can take part in the system and escape it unscathed; and the American audience's hunger for controversy and blind spot for real, systemic racism. Lee spares none of these people, and, with a Greek tragedian's precision, lets the bad choices pile up and explode with, more than a few times, deadly consequences.
This is a movie that is, ostensibly, a comedy, but brings a ruthless hammer to bear in its finale. It refuses to allow you to enjoy the minstrel show (which you see quite a bit of). It leaves almost all of its characters in shambles, and it won't allow you, dear viewer, to walk away from it unscathed, either. The viewer is left with the shards of the movie scattered in their lap by the time the credits roll, tasked with making sense of the experience, cleaning up the mess, and the edges are sharp, indeed.
In the same way that a young college-aged me wasn't ready for this movie, America wasn't, either. Hell, I don't know that America is ready for it now. But I will say that the film feels more relevant than ever. In the twenty years since its release we have seen: the election, to two terms, of a black president; the reaction to that in the election of one of the most nakedly racist American presidents to ever sit in the Oval; the racial discrepancies laid bare in Hollywood (for the umpteenth time); cavalcades of videos of black men and women and children brutalized and murdered by police published on the internet; a new reckoning of America's racist history. And Lee's film feels oddly prescient in the light of those twenty years: a character in this movie is murdered, and his death is live-streamed to the internet; white executives brazenly pander to black people and seek to exploit culture for profits (see the Da Bomb Malt Liquor and Timmi Hilln**ger Jeans ads peppered throughout the film); in one scene, a callous PR rep runs down all of the defenses the network can use when their minstrel show faces negative reaction: we are proudly representing people of color, YOU'RE the racist, you just don't understand satire, etc etc etc.
Jada Pinkett Smith is Sloan, Delacroix's assistant. She is hungry for success, too. And while she initially meets the idea of a minstrel show with side-eyed skepticism, she, too, caves in the face of rapid commercial success. Pinkett Smith is given a few fine monologues to shine and flesh out her character, and she does so with verve.
Tommy Davidson is revelatory: there is a scene where his character, Womack, is "blackening up" (putting on black face), that has stayed with me. Womack is smearing burnt cork (the traditional method for creating the pitch-black face paint) on his face, while tears streak down his cheeks. He holds his white-gloved hands up in a caricature expression and says, his heart heavy, "show time." Later he confronts Savion Glover's Manray, about dropping out of the show, and his monologue is shattering.
The film's cast all understand the film they are in. Glover and Davidson mug for the camera in horror-show rictus smiles; Michael Rapaport drops the N-word with the kind of reckless abandon and confidence that only white men possess; Mos Def (as the leader of the Mau Mau collective) dribbles bullshit and empty-headed revolutionary rhetoric with passion and conviction. A movie like this lives and dies on the strength of its players, and Bamboozled crackles with life.
- It is a film that is both hilarious and deadly serious. It dares you to life, while demanding that you think about it critically.Lee loads his gun with ample ammunition and proceeds, over the course of 135 minutes, to spray bullets with merciless abandon. He targets: those white people who exploit black culture and brag about being "more black than a black person;" entertainers who become complicit in show business' penchant for dehumanization; white writers and entertainers who will excuse their own racism in the name of "satire;" revolutionaries whose ideals and beliefs change with the wind; people who think they can take part in the system and escape it unscathed; and the American audience's hunger for controversy and blind spot for real, systemic racism. Lee spares none of these people, and, with a Greek tragedian's precision, lets the bad choices pile up and explode with, more than a few times, deadly consequences.
This is a movie that is, ostensibly, a comedy, but brings a ruthless hammer to bear in its finale. It refuses to allow you to enjoy the minstrel show (which you see quite a bit of). It leaves almost all of its characters in shambles, and it won't allow you, dear viewer, to walk away from it unscathed, either. The viewer is left with the shards of the movie scattered in their lap by the time the credits roll, tasked with making sense of the experience, cleaning up the mess, and the edges are sharp, indeed.
In the same way that a young college-aged me wasn't ready for this movie, America wasn't, either. Hell, I don't know that America is ready for it now. But I will say that the film feels more relevant than ever. In the twenty years since its release we have seen: the election, to two terms, of a black president; the reaction to that in the election of one of the most nakedly racist American presidents to ever sit in the Oval; the racial discrepancies laid bare in Hollywood (for the umpteenth time); cavalcades of videos of black men and women and children brutalized and murdered by police published on the internet; a new reckoning of America's racist history. And Lee's film feels oddly prescient in the light of those twenty years: a character in this movie is murdered, and his death is live-streamed to the internet; white executives brazenly pander to black people and seek to exploit culture for profits (see the Da Bomb Malt Liquor and Timmi Hilln**ger Jeans ads peppered throughout the film); in one scene, a callous PR rep runs down all of the defenses the network can use when their minstrel show faces negative reaction: we are proudly representing people of color, YOU'RE the racist, you just don't understand satire, etc etc etc.
III. Brilliantly Achieved
This movie is a well-constructed piece of art, to boot.
Ruth E. Carter's costumes are specific, and lush and historically accurate. Each character feels detailed and nuanced in Carter's lush designs.
I was initially hesitant about the decision to film much of the movie with mini DV (digital video) handheld cameras. But, as the movie went on, it began to feel like a documentary. Like we were watching a real boardroom, with real executives. Then Lee opens up the minstrel show itself and we transition into glorious 16 mm . The colors pop, the details are etched in light and shadow. And the contrast between the two mediums enhances the other: the flat, documentarian feel of the real world portions of the film stand out against the incredibly detailed vibrancy of the minstrel show. Lee and cinematographer Ellen Kuras have crafted a film whose visual language enhances its thematic ideas. I love that.
Terence Blanchard's score is stirring and soulful. It cries out with tragic jazz tones and smooth symphonic orchestration.
Victor Kempster's production design is astounding. The minstrel show's set looks like something out of Splash Mountain, and that yawning cartoonish mouth that the characters enter through is hideously, monstrously offensive. But it's all based on real, historical things. Which makes it all the more effective.
Ruth E. Carter's costumes are specific, and lush and historically accurate. Each character feels detailed and nuanced in Carter's lush designs.
I was initially hesitant about the decision to film much of the movie with mini DV (digital video) handheld cameras. But, as the movie went on, it began to feel like a documentary. Like we were watching a real boardroom, with real executives. Then Lee opens up the minstrel show itself and we transition into glorious 16 mm . The colors pop, the details are etched in light and shadow. And the contrast between the two mediums enhances the other: the flat, documentarian feel of the real world portions of the film stand out against the incredibly detailed vibrancy of the minstrel show. Lee and cinematographer Ellen Kuras have crafted a film whose visual language enhances its thematic ideas. I love that.
Terence Blanchard's score is stirring and soulful. It cries out with tragic jazz tones and smooth symphonic orchestration.
Victor Kempster's production design is astounding. The minstrel show's set looks like something out of Splash Mountain, and that yawning cartoonish mouth that the characters enter through is hideously, monstrously offensive. But it's all based on real, historical things. Which makes it all the more effective.
IV. Powerful Performances
Damon Wayans plays Delacroix with acerbic gusto. His pitch-perfect "white voice" is both specific and absurd. He is a man who desperately wants success, and boo-hoos those who eschew financial success for personal contentment (like his father, who he sees as wallowing in obscurity doing stand-up comedy in dive bars). He figures that his minstrel show idea will get him off the hook, but, by the time it becomes a roaring success, he has sold his own soul in service of exploitation. Wayans makes what could easily be a paper-thin archetype into a man whose journey is relatable and tragic.Jada Pinkett Smith is Sloan, Delacroix's assistant. She is hungry for success, too. And while she initially meets the idea of a minstrel show with side-eyed skepticism, she, too, caves in the face of rapid commercial success. Pinkett Smith is given a few fine monologues to shine and flesh out her character, and she does so with verve.
Tommy Davidson is revelatory: there is a scene where his character, Womack, is "blackening up" (putting on black face), that has stayed with me. Womack is smearing burnt cork (the traditional method for creating the pitch-black face paint) on his face, while tears streak down his cheeks. He holds his white-gloved hands up in a caricature expression and says, his heart heavy, "show time." Later he confronts Savion Glover's Manray, about dropping out of the show, and his monologue is shattering.
The film's cast all understand the film they are in. Glover and Davidson mug for the camera in horror-show rictus smiles; Michael Rapaport drops the N-word with the kind of reckless abandon and confidence that only white men possess; Mos Def (as the leader of the Mau Mau collective) dribbles bullshit and empty-headed revolutionary rhetoric with passion and conviction. A movie like this lives and dies on the strength of its players, and Bamboozled crackles with life.
Why You Should See It
- The production design and visual choices show that Spike Lee is a master filmmaker who surrounds himself with a team of incredible talent. His movies are events, and Bamboozled is no exception.
- This movie is so timely it hurts.
Why You Shouldn't See It
In Conclusion
Miscellany
- Savion Glover, who plays Manray (or Mantan!) did all of the choreography for the film. Spike Lee wrote this script with Glover in mind.- None of the white extras had any idea what they were in for when they came into the studio to film. Their worried glances and confused expressions are real, according to Lee.
- Because they had a small budget, and because they wanted to film as fast as possible, and because shooting on digital handheld cameras allowed it, there were often as many as 15 cameras in use during any one scene. This allowed the actors to improvise without forcing the production to reset the scenes over and over and over again.
- Glover's minstrel character's name is Mantan. This is a reference to famed black actor Mantan Mooreland. Davidson's minstrel character is pulled from history, too. He plays Sleep 'n Eat, which is a reference to the screen character of Willie Best.
- The Roots portrayed the minstrel show's house band, The Alabama Porchmonkeys.
- The Mau Maus have one white member. At the film's end, when the cops shoot and kill the Mau Maus, the white member is the only one taken alive.
- The film had a budget of $10 million. It only made $2.5 million at the box office.
- This is a movie that is so hard to find that an original-run DVD can be bought, used, on Amazon for $129.
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