I Am Not Your Negro

Year: 2016

Genre: Documentary

Stars: James Baldwin, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Medgar Evers, Dick Cavett, Samuel L. Jackson

“Documentary” is a bit of a misnomer when it comes to this passionate, powerful and frightfully relevant collage of a film. Documentaries are assumed to be informative; casting light on a subject the public knows little about or at the very least giving us insights on well worn subjects both private and public. I Am Not Your Negro does this – kind of. But mostly it pushes the boundaries of its audience and asks of you to seek answers to questions you may have only asked yourself in times of deep reflection. Raoul Peck’s Oscar nominated movie is not a documentary – it’s a mirror, reflecting the face of an angry, confused America.

We enter the "fractured state of mind" of author James Baldwin just as he has committed himself to writing an account of three slain figures Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr. and Medgar Evers. What makes his hypothetical novel, "Remember This House" so poignant is the fact that Baldwin was friends with all three; each of their deaths in 1963, ‘65 and ’68 respectively, taking an accumulative blow.

Baldwin never finished the book though the words of his paltry 30 pages are folded into the film along with archival footage and excerpts of his previous writings. The words written by Baldwin are uttered by the deliberate patter of Samuel L. Jackson’s voice while the footage of Baldwin speaking at regular engagements crackle with the intensity of his rhythmic voice. Even with Jackson’s blunted utterances, the sharp insights and social commentary of Baldwin’s prose peel away layers not just of an America reeling from the Civil Rights movement but written of an America that still exists today. Whatever you think about the civil, academic polemic, his words seer through the fabric of polite society. The litany of injustices cross-cutting through the film grow in conscious force and leery impatience; as if to say “how can you seriously not see this is still happening!”

I feel guilty in saying; the film caught me off guard and guiltier still for having the reason explained to me with intense sincerity. “You don’t see us, but we have always been looking up at you. We know you,” says Baldwin.

Then, as if to prove a lack of understanding to me personally, the film weaves images of famous films into the documentary's complex tapestry. It compares the lily white inner-monologue of Doris Day to the witless stare of Dots Johnson in No Way Out (1950). It compares the chaste reassured-ness of Sidney Poitier in The Defiant Ones (1958) to the frivolity of The Pajama Game (1957). Then the film asks a stunning question; “why do you need the n**ger?”

We like to think we live in a world of increasing intersectionality yet the recent uptick in active and pugnacious white supremacy sings a different, sadly similar refrain. In that regard, I Am Not Your Negro is not just great movie but a necessary one. It recalls the long, painful journey of ending legal segregation then rightfully calls out systems and individuals with segregation still in their heart. It then employs Baldwin’s personal anger and imperfect point of view to gift us true, unadulterated feeling; a feeling of loss, a feeling of frustration and a feeling of hope.

Critics of I Am Not Your Negro (at least the critics that matter) like to casually point out the lack of exploration when it comes to Baldwin’s sexuality. There is one all too brief excerpt from an FBI report, hinting he might be gay. Other than that, the film remains silent on a subject Baldwin was decidedly not silent on. While I think it’s important to explore the commonalities between Civil Rights and gay rights (watch Pride (2014)) and the compartmentalized nature of being black and gay (watch Moonlight (2016)), I don’t think I Am Not Your Negro is trying to be that kind of film. It’s complicated enough to translate the poignant thoughts of a ferocious social commentator and point that commentary towards a receptive audience. Adding on another layer to this already layered film would be like chopping down a tree from an entirely different angle. Plus, it’s not so much about Baldwin as it is about, well, us…

I Am Not Your Negro is certainly an incendiary work, but it burns in much the same way a swab of disinfectant does on a recently made wound. The film left me with questions of not just race but culture as well. What does it say when a culture priding itself on moral ascendancy still can’t stomach the realities of a permanent underclass of people? What does it say when our stringent individualistic traditions blind us from what is happening before our very eyes? And finally, where do we go from here?

Final Grade: A