One Night in Miami (2020)

 Score: 5 / 5

Four Black men meet in a motel room to celebrate, sympathize, antagonize, and realize their potential over the course of one night. That's the premise of the first feature debut of director Regina King, adapted by Kemp Powers from his 90-minute one-act play, One Night in Miami. It could be an August Wilson play, for its strict enclosure in a tight space, forcing its language and actors to be brilliant. But Powers populates his drama with four iconic men who were, in fact, friends in real life, though the events here are fictitious. Who are these men? What are they all doing together? Where do they go from here? Not easy to answer, as we learn along with them, but these three questions loosely structure the proceedings of the night.

It's February 25, 1964, and Cassius Clay just won a boxing match against Sonny Liston. He's suddenly a star, winning the championship and on his way to becoming "The Greatest." His friend and mentor Malcolm X is there, and to celebrate, invites him and two other men to his motel room. When they arrive, there are no ladies and no party. Despite the disappointment, Malcolm wants them to reflect and strategize moving forward. The physically imposing Cassius, played by Eli Goree (Race, Riverdale), dances in the ring but just as quick-witted in dialogue, charming even as he commands the attention of whatever room holds him. Goree also hits each beat of the immediately recognizable accent, on par with Will Smith's portrayal of the same man, while he works overtime to keep the peace between the larger-than-life personalities. Kingsley Ben-Adir (The Comey Rule) probably has the hardest job of the cast in playing Malcolm X, who has been helping Cassius on his road to the Nation of Islam and his future name of Muhammad Ali, a conversion that makes up a major plot point during this night of intended celebration. Ben-Adir equally nails his character's iconic verbal cadence, seemingly easily, despite an abundance of recordings of the man himself in addition to Denzel Washington's masterful portrayal for Spike Lee. I can't wait to see what this relatively fresh actor does next.

The other two men join up, these two most excited for a party. Football star Jim Brown, played by a quietly devastating and thickly muscular Aldis Hodge (Straight Outta Compton, Hidden Figures, Clemency, The Invisible Man), was a commentator on the boxing match. Jim has recently become aware -- during an excellent introduction sequence probably not in the play -- that despite his fame among sports fans, he is still a Black man in a society that puts his achievements below even the weakest white link. Singer Sam Cooke is perhaps most out of place, and Leslie Odom Jr. (Hamilton, Harriet, Murder on the Orient Express) imbues the fabulously famous character with surprising gravitas even while beautifully singing the famed verses. Probably the only true celebrity of the group yet -- possibly eclipsed tonight by Cassius -- Sam is nevertheless harangued by the activist Malcolm who sees great potential in his use of his mainstream recognition to further Black rights causes. He feels justified in his abilities and his career, and denies that he is pandering to white audiences for success. In a rare flashback scene, we witness Sam's uncanny musical talents creating powerful community, and it is this harmony that Malcolm wishes for a nation of oppressed Black folk.

All four men work overtime to fulfill the needs of their enormous roles, and all are utterly brilliant in their performances. It's hard to separate the award-worthy performances from the beautifully written characters, and it is occasionally difficult to separate Powers's words from history. The dialogue is all emotionally and ideologically accurate, even if this particular meeting never actually took place. This is the sort of chamber piece that resonates best when you have one viewing that lets it wash over you, then revisit it at least once to dig deep into the heady, weighted ideas battled out. Battled, I say, but not violently; these men occasionally have bones to pick, but they continue the conversation out of passion, respect, admiration, and love for each other. Their nascent identities are about to bloom into timeless cultural touchstones, and in this purely Black space, they engage with each other honestly and freely, as friends looking toward a bright future, which we don't often see in movies about Black people in the '60s.

I don't really want to get into the specifics of their conversation during this one fateful night. Frankly, it all starts to blur together, and they are really just meditating on the current and future culture of Black people in a changing America. But their dialogue itself is anything but vague and often so grounded you forget this is a masterclass in writing, acting, and directing. It's just four grown men talking. As conflict arises and dissipates, we feel a transcendent sense of pleasure as wallflowers, listening in to conversations beyond any expectation or assumption we might have going in. King has perfect control over the proceedings, even beyond establishing what was surely an extraordinarily safe space for these guys to flesh out their craft. It's an absolute joy to witness and behold, and I cannot wait to watch it again.