"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" is getting a lot of attention for featuring one of the final performances of Chadwick Boseman, one of his best. The production is a star-studded prestige affair, adapting the celebrated August Wilson play about blues singer Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) coming to Chicago in 1927 to record a new album. The recording session is an ordeal, thanks to Ma's endless demands and refusal to compromise, clashes with the band's trumpet player Levee (Boseman), and various technical and artistic issues that crop up. Caught in the crossfire are Ma's agent Irvin (Jeremy Shamos), the recording studio ower Sturdyvant (Jonny Coyne), and the other members of the band, Toledo (Glynn Turman), Cutler (Colman Domingo), and Slow Drag (Michael Potts).
"Ma Rainey's Black Bottom" feels like a play, much in the same way that "Fences" did, with its limited locations and long monologues. This is not a bad thing, as the production is lively and well-executed. I appreciate the way that the performers are showcased, particularly Davis and Boseman. The play itself is an absorbing examination of the way black performers are exploited by the white music industry, and the unfortunate repercussions. Boseman's ambitious Levee emerges as the central character, a talented, troubled man who is charming one minute and dangerous the next. Boseman's work here is a clear highlight, letting him play far more shades of gray than I've seen him play before. Viola Davis as Ma Rainey is also stunner, less comic and more poignant in this version. No matter how spoiled or exasperating her behavior, there's always a tangible undercurrent of fear and desperation.
Moreover, I like how nimble the film is, directed by theater veteran George C. Wolfe. It runs a trim 94 minutes, and is often enlivened with music, humor, and unpredictable changes in tone. There clearly wasn't much of a budget, but the raw aesthetics help lend "Ma Rainey" a little more authenticity while undercutting any romantic notions of being a working musician during this era. Ma herself, with her haphazard makeup and faded glamour, is hard to forget. There are a few elements that don't translate well to film - a major third act confrontation doesn't quite land - but all in all I found the film highly watchable and very moving.
However, whether due to the subject matter or the artifice inherent in the construction of "Ma Rainey," I didn't connect to it the way I connected to Radha Blank's "The Forty Year-Old Version." This is the semi-autobiographical tale of Radha, who plays a version of herself as a struggling New York playwright trying to do something significant before her fast-approaching fortieth birthday. Once a rising star, she hasn't had any significant work produced in years, and is scraping by while teaching a high school theater class. Her agent and best friend Archie (Peter Kim) connects her with a wealthy white producer named Whitman (Reed Birney), who only offers work that would require her to sell out. She decides to try becoming a rapper, taking on the name RadhaMUSPrime and enlisting the help of a music producer, D (Oswin Benjamin).
I think I love this film, even if it's too long, I know nothing about rap music, and there were several moments of the kind of potent cringe I tend to avoid in films if I can. However, Radha Blank is such an appealing onscreen presence. And I love her willingness to keep trying and keep experimenting, even if it often just leads her to humiliation. I love the way the story happily subverts the easy positivity of similar narratives about struggling artists. There's a realism and an honesty to Radha's portrayal of her experience that is so refreshing to see - the homeless guy who hangs out in front of her apartment who refuses to be befriended, her passel of bright young students who can be alternately great cheerleaders or crushing critics, and of course Archie, her gay, yuppie, Korean agent who really is a slimeball, but one who is still her dear friend. The plotting is a little contrived, especially the ending, but in the end Radha earns her big moments.
The film is mostly in black and white, except for a few segments depicting Radha's work as a playwright, and occasional errant thought running through her mind. I think it's a good choice here, because it helps keep the focus on the performances, which are great. I didn't know a single one of the featured actors coming into this film, and now I want to see Blank, Kim, and Benjamin in everything. I really hope that Radha Blank goes on to make more films, because I so enjoy her voice and her take on the theater community - her chronicle of the process of selling out is deeply funny and upsetting at the same time.
Both films are available on Netflix. Do watch and enjoy.
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