A powerful film propelled by the electrifying and charismatic performances of its two leads, Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman, and the whip-smart, crackling and piercing dialogue of August Wilson. Beautifully directed by George C. Wolfe and adapted by Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Ma Rainey's felt simultaneously like the play it was based on and also a cinematic meditation on the themes of Race, Religion and Art. Davis was transformative and utterly mesmerising as the eponymous Ma Rainey, bringing along with her an indisputable charm, authority, world-weariness, glamour and sexiness. She effortlessly magnetises your gaze and attention whenever she was on the screen although, granted, the bulk of the screen time belonged to Boseman. And Boseman - stolen from us too soon - did not disappoint. He was a possessed soul, invigorating and alluring, commanding the screen as he let loose Wilson's indomitable words. His cockiness, vulnerability, pride, lust, despair and fear were all out there, palpable and relatable. Kudos too to the supporting cast who played the rest of the band members, Glynn Turman, Colman Domingo and Michael Potts. Their chemistry was excellent. But the film truly belonged to Davis and Boseman.
Wolfe direction was wonderful. He aptly translated the play to the screen. Scene changes felt natural and the staging cinematic. Yes, although sometimes it did feel like four guys in a room, but the cast's chemistry and Wolfe's constantly moving camera on one-take made it feel like you were in the room with them. An audience or a fly. Or possibly God? Looking in, a silent observer. Wolfe and cinematographer Tobias A. Schliessler filmed it all with a visceral sensation of the oppressing heat and the undeniable racism that permeated throughout the 1920s. The only misstep was perhaps that epilogue. We all knew the truth, so was it necessary to show it? That kind of diminished the power of the penultimate scene.
Davis was brilliant and a definite shoo-in for a Best Actress nomination. Although she will most likely be handicapped by the fact her Ma Rainey felt almost like a supporting character in a play/film that carried her name. Nonetheless, Davis was powerful. She had a presence and a strength that seeped through just like the sweat that coated Ma's gleaming body. She understood the truth of her power, a Black entertainer in a white world, and by golly she was bloody well going to use it to get everything she deserved. Davis, with just a look and a shift in her shoulders, embodied all that. A finely tuned, nuanced performance that again proved Davis is at the top of her game!
Boseman, on the other hand, had the much showier role and he went all in on it. This was no Black Panther but boy did Boseman slinked about like a panther. This was Boseman's finest performance and outshone everything else he had done. Perhaps his untimely death may have coloured the expectations, but I do not think so. Objectively, Boseman fueled his character with an undeniable live-wire energy that was infectious and passionate. He imbued humanity to a complex character that could have otherwise been two-dimensional and stereotypical. Now, if only we had more scenes of him and Davis locking horns!
Jazz musician Branford Marsalis scored the film and the jazzy blues provided the soul of the film.
Netflix scored another hit with Ma Rainey. A sure-fire Oscar-nominated film that rivalled the previous Wilson adaptation Fences. Davis and Boseman deserved all the accolades they have, and will be, receiving.
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