DOLEMITE IS MY NAME

Eddie Murphy     Kodi Smit-McPhee    Wesley Snipes    Keegan-Michael Key

De’vine Joy Randolph     Chris Rock     Craig Robinson     Snoop Dogg     Mike Epps

     Here’s a way for black people to get into their groove and for those of us unfamiliar with Rudy Ray Moore (aka “Dolemite”), the “Godfather of Rap”, to jive a little with him and his cohorts when he is just getting started in show business in the 1970’s.  In the beginning of this story, he’s trying to make it as a comedian in L.A. when he has an inkling that there are black audiences who are not being served in the entertainment industry.  He finds in his stand-up routines that black people can appreciate a certain kind of humor, so he cagily puts out three bawdy records that sell well—much to others’ surprise, and even to his own.  

     It turns out that what was regarded by most of America at that time as profane—even porn--black people found in it a particular kind of humor (as in “Yo daddy’s a freak, and yo mama’s a whore”—the beginnings of the rap genre).  This encourages Rudy—who has stellar aspirations to add singing, acting, and film producing to his resume.  He is determined to satisfy the appetites of his people without regard to conventions (primarily white people’s), running up against not only white “shirts”, but (middle/upper class?) blacks in the arts and in production, who have been going in the direction of “refinement” as they envision it.  Rudy crashes right through all of that, while bringing many of those people on board with him.

     Rudy Ray Moore (expertly rendered by Murphy) is a fascinating individual with the unusual ability to sell his visions (and he is a master salesman) to producers who will back him so that he can give full vent to his creativity, first and foremost in comedy with music (what would eventually become rap), but as well in business (managing to get funding, construct a studio, act in and produce a movie).  How Rudy got started in show business is remarkable.  After serving in the Armed Forces, he was working in a record store, trying to get the DJ (Snoop Dogg) to play some of the records he’d made, which were based on a homeless man’s lewd limericks.

     We get to go along with Rudy on a major part of the making of his first movie, Dolemite, its significance being that it’s the first of what came to be known as Blaxploitation films. The filming of it has hilarious scenes where ineptness is clearly visible, but in Rudy’s hands becomes a delightful farce, helped along by Wesley Snipes (stunning!) as director D’Urville, Keegan-Michael Key (socompetent) as writer, Kodi Smit-McPhee (respectful, how-old-is-he? cinematographer), and Lady Reed (Randolph), Rudy’s creation of a saucy character from a self-deprecating, disillusioned woman. 

     Rudy is a complicated character in whom people have little faith; but in actually possessing talents in salesmanship, sensibility about black folk, and astute judge of character, he was able to pull it off, not only by proving his worth to the powers that be, but also recognizing traits in others that could be encouraged and brought out to serve his purposes.  A prime example is Lady Reed (Randolph) whom he decides after talking to her in a bar that she could be a funny sidekick in his comedy routine.  Writer Jerry Jones (Key) helps in coaching Rudy in script writing.  Rudy plucks his reluctant, snobbish director D’Urville Martin (hilariously played by Snipes) out of a strip club.  He accepts a new graduate (Smit-McPhee) from film school to be his cinematographer.  His old friends Ben Taylor (Robinson), Jimmy Lynch (Epps), and Daddy Fatts (Rock) are his reliable stand-bys.  

     In Dolemite is My Name, Eddie Murphy and Director Craig Brewer revive this character with apparently similar sensibilities about the world today as Rudy had about his people at the time.  It may seem a bit slow to viewers in the beginning, but that is partly because it takes a while to get oriented in another world—at least for many of us.  This was certainly true for me, as I had not seen previews and knew nothing about Rudy Ray Moore.  But after a time it became fascinating and truly funny.  

An entertaining account of the beginnings of rap popularized by a remarkable figure in showbiz.

Grade:  A-                                             By Donna R. Copeland

TABLE 19

Anna Kendrick   Lisa Kudrow   Margo Martindale   Craig Robinson  

Tony Revolori   June Squibb   Stephen Merchant   Wyatt Russell

     This is a strange movie that doesn’t quite get off the ground.  It’s rather formulaic, as in quick alterations between humor, anger/meanness, tenderness, and love.  It tries to be funny by being shocking, but the jokes often fall flat, or are even embarrassing—as when a young man asks a girl he’s never met to go out with him and marry him…and, by the way, he has a big penis.  Stumbling, pratfalls, and bumping into things and wrecking things are likewise inserted to be funny.  There must be at least five or six people who fall down, and we’re supposed to laugh.  And the fighting between couples; this gets very tiresome. 

     The film takes place at a wedding, and opens with Eloise (Kendrick) vacillating between accepting or declining the invitation.  This is actually one of the more clever scenes showing real anguish and ambivalence; Kendrick can be very funny.  She is right to be torn because she’s bound to run into her ex-boyfriend Teddy (Russell), the brother of the bride with a new girlfriend.  She wants to go because she is a long-term friend of the bride, and was even helping with wedding plans when she and Teddy broke up.  Of course, in the end she decides to go, and is seated at Table 19.  We’re informed ahead of time that this is a table of misfits.

     The colorful make-up of the guests at Table 19 is a great set-up for a comedy.  Along with Eloise, there is the former nanny of the bride and her brother, Jo (Squibb); unhappily married owners of a diner (Kudrow and Robinson); an ex-con (Merchant) who is the uncle of the bride, and a young man (Revolori) desperately wanting to score, inappropriately egged on by his helicopter mother (Martindale) whom we only hear over the telephone.  This table is supposed to form the essence of the comedy, and some of their routines are as madcap as they’re supposed to be, but the filmmakers (writers Jay and Mark Duplass and director Jeffrey Blitz) never quite succeed in their aim to make this an all-out screwball comedy.  Which is a shame, since the cast is filled with talented actors. 

     Table 19 succeeds when it illuminates the back-stories of the characters, and we feel compassion for what they’ve gone through.  This is especially true of the ex-con when we hear what he did wrong, which is both funny and extremely touching at the same time.  Merchant pulls this off like the pro that he is.  Revolori (a hit in The Grand Budapest Hotel) plays his part extremely well, but the lines he’s given, which are supposed to be funny, simply aren’t.  Kudrow and Robinson are fine actors, but there is no chemistry between them, and it’s puzzling how the two characters could have gotten into a marriage.  Kendrick also does well, but it’s a role she has done many times before in playing characters that I suspect are very similar to her as a person.  I would like to see her pick up the challenge of roles that will be out of character for her, proving her great acting abilities.

Table 19 is mildly entertaining, but doesn’t achieve the sidesplitting screwball comedy to which it aspires.

Grade:  C-                                    By Donna R. Copeland

MORRIS FROM AMERICA

Markees Christmas     Craig Robinson     Carla Juri     Lina Keller

          Growing up is hard to do, but for a black American kid in Germany whose father has not modeled communication—except maybe rap style—it’s a puzzlement.  Morris’ father Curtis (Robinson) is coach of the local soccer team in Heldelberg, Germany.  They’ve just arrived, and Morris (Christmas) is struggling with German lessons and feeling the beginnings of adolescent surliness.  He’s basically happy living with his father, and has only distant stirrings of a wish for friends his own age.  But when he has the opportunity, he goes for adventure and peer acceptance, and his father has to adapt.

          Morris’ German tutor, Inka (Juri), does her best to draw him out playfully, and luckily for him, he bonds with her, although he would deny it.  He’s not much of one to want help. 

          The other woman in his life (his mother is dead) is Katrin (Keller) a blonde beauty he meets at school and is quickly smitten by her.  She is flirtatious, but mostly out of curiosity.  She and the others—including a teacher—think he is the stereotypic black.  What?  He doesn’t play basketball?  He doesn’t dance?  Is this marijuana cigarette stub his?  Then he lets her know he is a “gangsta rapper” (his current aspiration), and he has made it in her eyes; she is an avid music fan, and does everything she can to induce him to perform. 

         Katrin is the most interesting character in the film.  She goes out of her way, at the mystification of her friends and the horror of her mother, to engage Morris.  She plays cat and mouse games with him, invites him to parties, and even gets him onstage at one of her boyfriend’s concerts, where he is a hit.  At first, it seems like she is regarding him as a toy, a novelty, and that she actually has little regard for him.  However, in one of the last scenes, she proves that she has more genuineness than was apparent, and that she has simply been like someone her age when commitments are not necessarily permanent.

        Writer/director Chad Hartigan has created a plausible story about the persistence of racial stereotypes across different countries and a picture of adolescence in that context.  I applaud his portrayal of a teenager who is thoughtful and has good judgment most of the time, but is susceptible to temptation out of loneliness and curiosity.  Morris makes mistakes and needs rescuing, but that’s what growing up is all about.

A true-to-life story with well-cast, talented actors.

Grade:  B                             By Donna R. Copeland