Shirley (2024)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Little is more disappointing than a group of amazing artists getting together to tell a story -- one far too long in coming -- and having it fall devastatingly flat. The story of Shirley Chisholm should have been represented cinematically ages ago; while I confess most of what I know about her comes from my U.S. history and civics classes in high school, the first Black woman to be elected to Congress and to campaign as a major party presidential candidate deserves more popular awareness than that. As such, I entered this film with more a mind to learn about the historical figure and her historic campaign than I did to appreciate it as a film. And while it suitably held my interest in that regard, this film -- annoying titled simply Shirley, which does it absolutely no favors -- is as dry as those textbook pages I pored over back when I was learning to drive.

John Ridley, writer and director of this Netflix biopic, is no stranger to relentlessly engaging material. Most famous for his Oscar-winning screenplay for 12 Years a Slave, Ridley also created, produced, penned, and directed much of American Crime, one of the best shows ever aired on network television, in my loud and proud opinion. So what struck me as most unforgivable, from him, in this latest project is how sanitized, simple, and stoic his approach is to such a groundbreaking, galvanizing person. 

Thankfully, Regina King is the primary reason for this film's watchability; she might be the only reason, unless you, like me, wanted a history lesson in two hours. Opening the film with Chisholm's victorious entrance in Congress, her Black womanhood stands out in a large group picture of the new congressional class, and she proudly holds her own in a sea of mostly white men, deflecting microaggressions (and straight-up aggressions) with confident, proud respect and nary a moment of hesitation or worry. At one point, she even says that humility is its own form of arrogance, and that's a profound insight from a character largely stripped of actual dramatic heft in context of this film. She's earned her position, she knows it, and she's going to continue breaking barriers. Not in spite of her sex or race, but emphatically because of them. I like the ideas here, but it looks terrible from a cinematic perspective. The greenscreen is obvious and garish, and the cinematography feels like something out of the period after a low-budget remastering, everything fuzzy and faded.

Unfortunately, we skip the intrigue of any of this time in her life, jumping ahead from 1968 to her presidential campaign in 1972. Clearly this is the point of the film, and more than once I had to wonder why; wouldn't it be more dramatically satisfying to see the story of her success rather than of her failure? Or, more ambitiously, a miniseries that actually charts the course of her entire political career? As it is, we're made to endure a subpar mishmash of political-business speak and largely writ characterizations that offers far more flavor of the period depicted than any substantial meat regarding history or the real people here dramatized. Perhaps my disdain stems partly from Netflix's other recent biopics that were rolled out in the height of awards season, notably Rustin (to which this will inevitably be compared), and how "too little too late" this one feels. 

Shirley features no real concept of the political process, and no shared understanding of how campaigns operate financially, politically, or socially. Characters make bizarre and repeated use of "delegates" as an idea more like trading cards or cryptocurrency, where neither we nor the characters seem to grasp what actually happens with them other than vague claiming and taking and giving. The film rolls on without caring for its characters (other than Chisholm), moving from scene to scene in what feels like check marks on a bulleted list of key points to hit, sacrificing at every turn character development for exposition dumping, interpersonal nuance for forced "big picture" moments, and real historical or political insight for all the details a kid's school report could offer. Even moments that should be showstoppers, like the assassination attempt on her, are glided over with all the grace of a ball rolling across the court; the closest we get to real intrigue in the whole film is when Shirley finally meets the leader of the Black Panthers on "neutral ground" in the home of actress Diahann Carroll (Amirah Vann, who is delicious), a meeting brokered by Barbara Lee (who appears in the film only to parrot Chisholm's ideas in the background, despite that she is currently -- I think -- the longest-serving Black woman in Congress), and the scene is really uniquely terrible, even from a storytelling standpoint. "She looks like an angel, but she fights like the devil for civil rights." I mean, really? John Ridley, what are you doing?

Even more damagingly for us: it's never made clear exactly what Chisholm could or would do with her power if elected; her actual platform, glaringly ignored by this film, and even her personal goals in pursuing elected office are treated as immaterial. In fact, one of the only points I distinctly recall her making in this film is her interest in inner city politics, but even that is about the scope and breadth of it as presented to us by the screenplay. In this way, and forgive me for overstepping but I don't forgive the film for ignoring, Shirley oddly seems to posit that Chisholm's identity alone is her reason, goal, drive, and endgame for seeking the presidency. In an era (meaning 2024, not 1972) when talk of identity politics is somewhat dying down as the American political system is actively morphing into something new and unknown, why on earth would A-list filmmakers want to make a movie about someone with real, tangible political history (whose known catchphrase "unbought and unbossed" indicated her lack of major donors or corporate backings to influence her, something which would be amazing to be reminded of and see directly right now, meaning 2024) and sanitize all of that out of it, choosing instead to lionize her otherwise artistically barren legacy as one of identity politics above all?

King is incredible, of course, and I liked most Chisholm's private scenes with her husband (Michael Cherrie) and advisors, played by Terrence Howard, Brian Stokes Mitchell, and the late Lance Reddick (who appears here in what I think is finally his final filmed role). The way she navigates their support and occasional challenges is fascinating and inspiring, though her dominance over her husband is more telling than even I expected in a film this watered down. There's even multiple hints of her resentful sister, who is never elaborated upon, beyond a vague accusation that their father loved Shirley best and left her more money. Oh, and Lucas Hedges joins the team as its optimistic and energetic white young man whose studies in law are helping keep the campaign in touch with new voters. I also found the scenes of Chisholm with citizens to be interesting and I'd have liked more exploration of that; it's clear she knows people and how to engage with them, and that she fully believes in a real democratic government for and by the average polity, whom she treats like real people with real needs. This film would have done better to treat her like a real person, too. 

As an addendum, and because I feel bad for so many criticisms here, I'd like to share what I think would have made a better story. Make it a miniseries (even four episodes would suffice) that charts Chisholm's political career, allows us more insight into her as a person, and most importantly engages with the political processes of the time. Give us the knowledge of how delegates are handled by campaigners. Give us actual, substantial scenes of infighting at the Black caucuses and with members of Congress. Give us more about the people who join the process, fall off, compete, and offer support again. Give us more about her suing the network for air time and more of her interview. Give a reference to the fact that Chisholm was not the first Black woman to run for president (that was the Communist, Charlene Mitchell, in '68, where the film started anyway!). Give us reasons to care for these characters and the history they represent so that we want to know more, not just feel like we learned enough to pass the next pop quiz.