B- | A struggling entertainer invents a character and catapults to underground success. Directed by Craig Brewer Starring Eddie Murphy, Da'Vine Joy Randolph, and Wesley Snipes Review by Jon Kissel |
Eddie Murphy’s had several attempts at comebacks in the 21st century, all of which peter out into an inability to capitalize on the reservoir of goodwill that keeps those comebacks alive. His wild onscreen choices and his offscreen antics keep prompting the need to go away and reemerge. Murphy was all set to win an Oscar in 2006 with his role in Dreamgirls, but that was supposedly blown by the release of Norbit in the midst of Oscar voting. He was awarded with the Mark Twain Prize for American Comedy in 2015 and later appeared on SNL’s 40th anniversary telecast, but he didn’t even crack a joke when the audience was thirsty to embrace him. The reception to Dolemite is My Name and the forthcoming sequel to Coming in America place Murphy at yet another turning point, where he can stay in the good graces of a public that so badly wants him around or capitalize on this moment by taking a bag full of money to do some hacky high concept comedy where he plays a dozen different roles.
In Dolemite is My Name, Murphy and director Craig Brewer tell the story of another entertainer who moves between feast and famine. Rudy Ray Moore was an underground blaxploitation filmmaker, in the margins for a genre already in the margins of the wider cinematic world. In Brewer’s telling, before Moore was one of the founders of the midnight movie tradition and hailed as the godfather of rap, he was a flailing stand-up comic and entertainer, a man obsessed with receiving wide acclaim but unable to find a way in. He’s introduced trying to push his doowop records onto a deejay in the 70’s, notably using ‘was’ in his pitch enough times for the word’s recurrence to stick out. His standup routine as a nightclub emcee is just as tired and dated, but not everything in the past is worth tossing out. Moore notices the laughs that a local wino gets in spite of how bad the man smells, laughs generated by tall tales told in rhyme of an indestructible black lothario. He coopts this routine for himself and takes the stage persona of Dolemite, a vulgar braggart who slays rooms wherever he goes and provides Moore with the praise he’s dreamed off since his sharecropper stepfather told him he was never going to be anything.
Dolemite is My Name spends much of its runtime on Moore’s ascension, a choice justified by the need to introduce a lesser known figure to an audience who probably has only heard of dolemite as one of the elements that makes up Bender Bending Rodriguez. However, if the old adage about writing what one knows is true, any filmmaker would leap at the chance to make a movie about filmmaking, and it’s in Moore’s ramshackle efforts to make a Dolemite movie that likely drew Brewer to this material. I imagine a lot of successful directors fondly remember their early days of stealing footage without permits, scraping up against time and money barriers and finishing their films in spite of all the restrictions, and I therefore expect something like a heist flick with guerilla filmmakers. That’s not the case here, though, as the Dolemite production scenes cut just as many corners as Moore surely did.
Most of the filmmaking segments of Dolemite is My Name feel lost in editing. Scene stealer Lady Reed (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) worries about how her larger body is going to look on camera. Instead of this being worked out on set, Moore just gives her a pep talk and neuters more compelling on-the-fly problem solving. The same is true for when Wesley Snipes’ D’Urville Martin informs Moore that he needs a cinematographer who knows how to light black actors, a compelling point that is still relevant but that Dolemite is My Name never returns to. For that matter, Snipes is treated as an uninterested snob instead of someone that Moore can learn from, which again feels like a missed opportunity for some competence porn. Is it a joke that Moore blows a scene to praise his scene partner, or is it a waste of film that costs money? Why does Kodi Smit-McPhee’s cinematographer look like a junkie and no one comments on this? I wanted so much more out of this part of the film, but it’s perfunctory and takes too many short cuts.
That’s not the only area Dolemite is My Name leaves me wanting or disappointed. Brewer broke out with Hustle and Flow, so he can construct an anti-hero. Moore is soft-pedaled here as the film elides or ignores any behavior that might make him unsympathetic. He steals the Dolemite routine wholesale from homeless alcoholics, and pays them back by tossing them out of the abandoned hotel they’re squatting in, which he in turn squats in. Moore’s allowed to stay there if he can roust the bums, but those scenes are tellingly left out, lest the audience see him chucking someone’s meager possessions into the street. Moore’s backstory also isn’t that compelling, especially compared to Lady Reed whose life has real stakes beyond a thwarted sense of desperate acclaim. Outside of Moore, the film seeds conflict between Keegan Michael Key’s aspirational writer and Moore, especially because the studio that turns Moore down is pivoting away from blaxploitation and towards exactly the kind of melodrama that Key’s character is interested in, but nothing comes of it. The film is essentially over after the big success of the Indy screening of Dolemite, but it repeats itself for another fifteen minutes, copying dramatic reveals of huge crowds that worked in Indy but are obvious and dumb so soon after. Dolemite is My Name wants to be a big crowd-pleaser, but its center is only capable of driving so much of the film.
That’s not to say Brewer isn’t somewhat successful at pleasing crowds, or that Murray isn’t a charmer, or that Randolph isn’t a breakout star. Snipes is doing the equivalent of Jake Gyllenhaal’s Okja performance, with big choice after big choice, but he’s undoubtedly eye-catching. Dolemite is My Name has plenty of holes, but it’s still fun based on how much fun the actors are having. The scene that ends the trailer, with Moore obliviously cheesing into the camera after a bad fight scene, is exactly what this movie promised; people finding joy in muddling their way through. More scenes like that and less like Lady Reed spouting off an earnest meme-level sentence about representation would’ve significantly elevated Dolemite is My Name. There was a great film in this, but Murray and Brewer are only able to unearth a pretty good one. Murray’s latest comeback will hopefully last long enough to fulfill the potential suggested here. C+
Dolemite is My Name spends much of its runtime on Moore’s ascension, a choice justified by the need to introduce a lesser known figure to an audience who probably has only heard of dolemite as one of the elements that makes up Bender Bending Rodriguez. However, if the old adage about writing what one knows is true, any filmmaker would leap at the chance to make a movie about filmmaking, and it’s in Moore’s ramshackle efforts to make a Dolemite movie that likely drew Brewer to this material. I imagine a lot of successful directors fondly remember their early days of stealing footage without permits, scraping up against time and money barriers and finishing their films in spite of all the restrictions, and I therefore expect something like a heist flick with guerilla filmmakers. That’s not the case here, though, as the Dolemite production scenes cut just as many corners as Moore surely did.
Most of the filmmaking segments of Dolemite is My Name feel lost in editing. Scene stealer Lady Reed (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) worries about how her larger body is going to look on camera. Instead of this being worked out on set, Moore just gives her a pep talk and neuters more compelling on-the-fly problem solving. The same is true for when Wesley Snipes’ D’Urville Martin informs Moore that he needs a cinematographer who knows how to light black actors, a compelling point that is still relevant but that Dolemite is My Name never returns to. For that matter, Snipes is treated as an uninterested snob instead of someone that Moore can learn from, which again feels like a missed opportunity for some competence porn. Is it a joke that Moore blows a scene to praise his scene partner, or is it a waste of film that costs money? Why does Kodi Smit-McPhee’s cinematographer look like a junkie and no one comments on this? I wanted so much more out of this part of the film, but it’s perfunctory and takes too many short cuts.
That’s not the only area Dolemite is My Name leaves me wanting or disappointed. Brewer broke out with Hustle and Flow, so he can construct an anti-hero. Moore is soft-pedaled here as the film elides or ignores any behavior that might make him unsympathetic. He steals the Dolemite routine wholesale from homeless alcoholics, and pays them back by tossing them out of the abandoned hotel they’re squatting in, which he in turn squats in. Moore’s allowed to stay there if he can roust the bums, but those scenes are tellingly left out, lest the audience see him chucking someone’s meager possessions into the street. Moore’s backstory also isn’t that compelling, especially compared to Lady Reed whose life has real stakes beyond a thwarted sense of desperate acclaim. Outside of Moore, the film seeds conflict between Keegan Michael Key’s aspirational writer and Moore, especially because the studio that turns Moore down is pivoting away from blaxploitation and towards exactly the kind of melodrama that Key’s character is interested in, but nothing comes of it. The film is essentially over after the big success of the Indy screening of Dolemite, but it repeats itself for another fifteen minutes, copying dramatic reveals of huge crowds that worked in Indy but are obvious and dumb so soon after. Dolemite is My Name wants to be a big crowd-pleaser, but its center is only capable of driving so much of the film.
That’s not to say Brewer isn’t somewhat successful at pleasing crowds, or that Murray isn’t a charmer, or that Randolph isn’t a breakout star. Snipes is doing the equivalent of Jake Gyllenhaal’s Okja performance, with big choice after big choice, but he’s undoubtedly eye-catching. Dolemite is My Name has plenty of holes, but it’s still fun based on how much fun the actors are having. The scene that ends the trailer, with Moore obliviously cheesing into the camera after a bad fight scene, is exactly what this movie promised; people finding joy in muddling their way through. More scenes like that and less like Lady Reed spouting off an earnest meme-level sentence about representation would’ve significantly elevated Dolemite is My Name. There was a great film in this, but Murray and Brewer are only able to unearth a pretty good one. Murray’s latest comeback will hopefully last long enough to fulfill the potential suggested here. C+
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