Self Made (2020)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Okay, it's not a film, but this is my blog and I can review whatever I want.

Self Made is the fascinating story of Madam C.J. Walker. I didn't know it was fascinating because I didn't know who she was, and so this miniseries works best by opening the door to historical knowledge. Madam was the first woman who became a self-made millionaire in America. She was also Black. And this series relies on her vision, resourcefulness, determination, hard work, and gumption to inspire and educate. It's also eminently approachable by someone, like me, who admittedly doesn't know who Walker was, doesn't really understand business, and doesn't know much about hair care (especially for black people). That's what got Madam Walker to the top.

Played by the inimitable Octavia Spencer, Madam C.J. Walker becomes iconic, the sort of larger-than-life historical figure you might see featured in an Oliver Stone movie. She begins in squalor as Sarah Breedlove, working hard as a washerwoman and having nothing to show for it, looking a bit of a mess as a way of life. Then she begins to lose her hair. After getting treatment -- in what feels a bit like a con but proves to be legit -- from a "magical" hair tonic, Sarah's life changes. The hope and joy in her wide eyes when she recognizes the opportunity to help other women in her shoes is infectious; Spencer's gifts as an actress stem from an uncanny ability to dominate the scene and reach out through the screen into your heart. Sarah determines to change her world, and starts by seeking a partnership with the only woman she knows who works with black women's hair: Addie Malone, played by Carmen Ejogo.

This is where things get a bit tricky, both in terms of the protagonist's life and in terms of the story being told in Self Made. The episodes touch on issues of black people's hair without really meditating on the powerful symbolism and culture of it. Addie is notably light-skinned and could be described as a "tragic mulatto" in the story; she wants to defend the ground she has earned but is unwilling to share her efforts or wealth with the shorter, darker, older Sarah. A few snide jabs about selling to people who want to look like Addie and not Sarah is all it takes for the latter to take things into her own hands. She steals Addie's formula and improves it, expands it, and develops the start of an empire with her husband and daughter in tow. She changes her name and slowly transforms into the Madam of history.

Because it is a four-part miniseries, we can safely assume the producers and writers wanted some drama, and so the two middle episodes creak a bit under the weight of interpersonal drama. Walker's husband (Blair Underwood), feeling emasculated and forgotten by his entrepreneur wife, embarks on an affair. Her daughter, Lelia (a wonderful Tiffany Haddish), is quietly revealed to us (not to many others) to have a lesbian lover. These inclusions are mostly predictable and feel too melodramatic; even though I know precious little about business, I found myself increasingly curious about how, practically, Walker was building her empire. I wanted to learn more about her actual work and the real issues she faced as a black businesswoman.

And then there are the frequent run-ins with Addie that turn bitchy one-liners into emotionally brutal, if repetitive, suggestions of superiority based on their relationships to men (including a disturbing few scenes with Booker T. Washington), money, hair, and of course skin color. And while some may criticize this dramatization of colorism as central to this story, I can't help but think it's an important discussion to continue having, especially in the historical context of the early 1900s. As a result of these scenes, though, Addie comes across almost as a cartoon villain, following Walker around the country and waiting for her next opportunity to pounce; Ejogo is brilliant, though, and plays the role with electric energy.

And while it may not be the most historically accurate series, there is something powerful to be said about dramatizing important figures in history that many of us may not know about. After all, last year's Harriet was the first major movie about Harriet Tubman, a hero every single U.S. kid learns about in elementary or middle school. Kasi Lemmons, who directed that picture, directs the first two episodes of Self Made, and uses her wonderful flair for fantasy to let us inside the mind of Madam Walker. With an eccentric soundtrack of modern R&B, hop-hop, and also some oldies and even spirituals, Lemmons makes sure we know this is all meant to be accessible and fun. Some of my favorite scenes depicted showgirls dancing and displaying her products, a boxing match with bright lights, and similar daydreams that bring to vivid life the fantasy life of someone so driven to success that they occasionally lose touch with reality.

The series spends all its time focusing on Walker's rise -- appropriate for a story with a title that implies its focus -- and so could be said to perform a disservice to Walker's legacy. Why aren't her incredible social contributions, political messages, and extensive philanthropy mentioned until some text and photos at the end of the series? But this isn't a historical treatise, nor is it meant to be the be-all and end-all statement of a full life lived. This is perhaps best shown in the series finale, as fireworks launch overhead and the black women in the crowd look into the camera to describe their own amazing accomplishments. And I, for one, am really happy to see a damn good story about Black empowerment utterly absent of the influence of white helpers, authority, or intervention. This series is meant to be as inspiring as it is entertaining, and the little bit of education it provides is certainly not a bad thing.