by Jacob Nadir

The biopic has become the primary means in which we engage with the life narratives of Black historical figures. The desire to see the history we hold dear depicted in the world’s premium art form is a desire that runs deep, and at this point, is an instinctual desire. A brief moment in Earl Sweatshirt’s latest release SICK! grapples with this need for some kind of reaffirmation of the abundance of Black life. At the end of the song “Vision”, two women briefly discuss:

How can I make our Black children happy without any magic?

It depends upon what you tell them. Magic is only make-believe and our children do not need to grow up in a make-believe world. You need to tell them the truth and help make them feel proud of who they are. The magic of truth is much more powerful than magic of make-believe.

But what can I tell them?

Tell them that they’re beautiful. Tell them that they’re Black. Here, take hold of my wing, and I will take you to someone who can give you something even better than magic.

The collective embrace of biopics persists partially as a reactionary genre responding to our history’s erasure and neglect, and also as a reaffirmation that our history is worthy of validating and celebrating on a scale as big as a Hollywood production. For our history to be depicted within the context (and the confines) of major film releases, is to also limit the accuracy and opportunities for the public to engage with the subject matter via the actual archives. 

Entertaining the white gaze and/or engaging with the archives as an author rather than as a mere presenter, caretaker, or seeker of history - are preferred routes in place of caring for the archive itself - the archive being infinitely more “valuable” than all the film adaptations that can be made based on said archive. To be clear, there should be more authors of history. There’s a lot of gaps to fill and details to tend to. My argument is that the film medium, particularly within the major studio system, is not the optimal medium for presenting history.

At the time of writing this, news has broke that there is a Rich Paul biopic starring Damson Idris in the works. This is madness. There is also a new Basquiat biopic directed by Julius Onah which begins production this Fall. This is intriguing. With the awareness that this medium has a variety of outputs, I’m not suggesting a moratorium on biopics, but rather a simmer - a collective reevaluation on the value we place on their existence - a more strategic approach to their production and how they’re activated within the larger context of materials pertaining to the subject matter. Are there ways for film, literature, audio, and physical artifacts to work in tandem when releasing biopics to the world? How can biopic releases be used as a tool to elevate other archival mediums?

The core concepts I’m emphasizing when considering the need and the want for historical depictions in cinema are engagement and care. Does the project allow for an audience to actually learn and witness the humanity of the history being presented? And is the author crafting this portrayal with care and an eye towards authentic moments and fully realized characters? 

A statement written by Julius Onah on the website for SAMO LIVES, the Basquiat biopic, mentions certain frustrations with the previous Basquiat biopic while also declaring his intentions in making the new one. In the statement he mentions:

“Never have we seen the full spectrum of Basquiat’s incredible life as a Black artist and a child of the immigrant African diaspora. And the richness and nuance of his journey is a story worthy of celebration. The joy, excitement, the passion and ultimately the transformative power of overcoming the odds as an outsider to create something that will outlive every single one of us. It’s a beautiful thing.”

He continues…

“…I set about learning everything I could about him and his work. Filtering and synthesizing from numerous sources like Jean-Michel did onto the canvases he painted on. Because the film would have to be one that’s alive with possibility, infused by the artistic and musical rhythms of his sensibility.”

Onah explains that naming the film SAMO LIVES “also reflects on the ultimate intent of telling this story: to focus on the inspirational power of his life. And by capturing it through the lens of a Black director and writer of the diaspora for the very first time, I believe his story can speak to a complexity of experience and with a specificity we have yet to see.”

This reads as clear intent to make this film with care and allowing for true engagement between the audience and the material. There is a definitive “why”.

Still, even with cases like the SAMO LIVES approach, along with triumphant offerings such as Malcolm X, Ray, and Bessie for example, the larger landscape of films based on Black historical figures deserves a collective reevaluation as mentioned earlier. In a talk between bell hooks and Arthur Jafa, a student in the crowd receives the mic and re-mentions the topic of the “reproduction of real”. This interaction best encapsulates the concern I have, along with an approach to evolve from the current landscape. The interaction goes:

“I was wondering if you could talk more about our obsession with the “reproduction of real”. Because I feel like as Black people and as Black artists, a way of expressing ourselves is through fiction and through films, and fictional literature, and that’s how our expression of truth has come to be. Junot Díaz said “The only way I can express my reality is through fiction because it’s so unbelievable.” But I think this obsession with the reproduction of real is something that the white gaze puts upon us in order to prove our suffering, or to prove our oppression. So I was just wondering if you could talk a little more about that.”

bell hooks: “I’m hesitant, again, with binaries… I use the phrase white supremacy a lot because I feel like white supremacy affects us all and is in us all. So back to earlier we’re saying that a lot of the surveillance we do as Black people is self-surveillance… Think about how much in Black life, the question of “what’s real” comes up. “You’re not really Black." “You’re not really this.” So that whole question is - that’s our fascism of control. The oppositional frame says Blackness can not be controlled. That Blackness is multi-dimensional, and infinite in possibility… The question for me again becomes - how do we move away from the frame of… our representations have to be real, and move into the frame of our representations have to honor a kind of charismatic humanity in which much is possible.”