Amirah Vann | Through the Shattered Lens

In 1972, a New York Congressperson named Shirley Chisholm made history when, in January of that year, she announced that she would be a candidate for the Democrat presidential nomination. Chisholm, who had already made history when she became the first Black woman to be elected to Congress, was also the first Black woman to run for a major party’s presidential nomination.

(For the record, U.S. Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine and the Rev. Channing Phillips were, respectively, the first woman and the first Black to run for a major party’s presidential nomination. Smith lost the Republican nomination to Barry Goldwater in 1964. In 1968, Phillips was the first Black to have his name officially put into nomination at a major party political convention.)

Of course, Chisholm did not win in 1972. She was one of many liberal candidates who declared that they were running as an alternative to the presumed front runner, U.S. Sen. Edmund Muskie. When Muskie’s campaign stalled in New Hampshire, it was George McGovern (and not Shirley Chisolm, John Lindsay, Eugene McCarthy, or Fred Harris) who benefitted. For the most part, the media viewed Chisholm as being a protest candidate, one who had a small but loyal activist base but which couldn’t compete with candidates like McGovern and Hubert Humphrey. Still, Chisholm went into the convention with a handful of delegates and, with McGovern not having enough pledged delegates to win outright, it was expected that Shirley Chisholm would at least be able to get some concessions from him in return for her support.

Political conventions being what they are, things didn’t work out that way. Due to several backroom deals, George McGovern was able to secure the nomination during the first round of voting. McGovern went on to suffer a landslide defeat and for years, his general election campaign would be held up as an example of how not to run for President. Chisholm returned to the U.S. Congress, where she served for another ten years.

Featuring Regina King in the title role, Shirley is a dramatization of that primary campaign. In many ways, it’s a typical Netflix docudrama. It’s well-made and it’s tasteful and occasionally, it’s a little bit boring. Political junkies will enjoy it, particularly if they’ve studied the 1972 presidential election. My inner history nerd was thrilled as largely forgotten historical figures were casually mentioned in the dialogue. Who would have guessed that a film released in 2024 would have featured characters talking about the presidential campaigns of Sam Yorty, John Lindsay, and Walter Fauntroy? Sadly, no mention is made of Patsy Mink. While Shirley Chisholm was making history as the first Black woman to run for president, U.S. Rep. Patsy T. Mink of Hawaii was doing the same as the first Asian-American woman to run.

It’s an uneven film, one that takes it time getting started. Filmmaker John Ridley is a better writer than director. Some of the scenes, like the ones of Chisholm mentoring a young Barbara Lee (Christina Jackson), felt a bit too much on the nose. (That said, Barbara Lee did start her career as a volunteer with the Chisholm campaign and, while in Congress, she regularly cited Chisholm as an inspiration.) But then there were other scenes that worked wonderfully, like Chisholm visiting segregationist George Wallace (W. Earl Brown) after Wallace had been shot. The film is at its best when it reaches the Democrat Convention and Chisholm goes from being elated to disappointed as one of her strongest allies goes from supporting her to announcing that it’s time for all the black delegates to line up behind McGovern. Regina King’s performance, especially towards the end of the film, captures both Shirley Chisholm’s strength and her vulnerability. It’s not always easy being a trailblazer.

Finally, if you want to learn more about Shirley Chisholm’s 1972 presidential campaign, I suggest the 2005 documentary, Shirley Chisholm ’72: Unbought and Unbossed.

In 1987, a wealthy white attorney is running for Congress in Georgia. After watching an interview in which he attacks affirmative action programs, an elderly black woman named Hattie Mae (Amirah Vann) collects a stack of old letters and drops them off at the attorney’s office. As the attorney reads the letters, he learns the truth about his past.

That’s the opening of Tyler Perry’s latest Netflix film, A Jazzman’s Blues. The rest of the film is largely set in Georgia in the 30s and the 40s. Hattie Mae is the mother of two sons, Bayou (Joshua Boone) and Willie Earl (Austin Scott). Bayou is shy, innocent, and naïve. He has a wonderful singing voice but no one takes him seriously. Willie Earl is egotistical and temperamental. Because he can play the trumpet, Willie Earl is his father’s favorite. When Willie Earl and his father leave to seek fame in Chicago, Bayou remains in Georgia with his mother.

He also falls in love with Leanne (Solea Pfeiffer), who everyone calls “Bucket” because her mother abandoned her in a used bucket. Leanne teaches Bayou to read. Bayou tries to protect Leanne from he abusive grandfather. Eventually, though, Leanne leaves Georgia. Years later, she returns as the wife of the local sheriff’s political ambitious brother. Leanne is now passing as white but Bayou still loves her. Leanne’s mother, who is now back in the picture, lies to the sheriff and says that Bayou whistled at Leanne. Bayou is forced to flee Georgia. He ends up in Chicago, performing with Wille Earl, who is now junkie.

In Chicago, Bayou becomes a star while Wille Earl plays in his brother’s band. Willie Earl grows jealous of his brother’s success. When Bayou learns that Leanne has had a son and that he’s probably the father, Bayou makes plans to return to Georgia for a one-night performance. Tragically, this provides Willie Earl with his opportunity to seek revenge….

Based on the first script that Tyler Perry ever wrote, A Jazzman’s Blues looks and feels like a real movie. Netflix actually invested some money in this film and that alone represents a step up from Perry’s previous Netflix film. Visually, the film does a good job contrasting the lushness of rural Georgia with the harshness of Chicago and the scenes in which Bayou performs in Capital Royale club are particularly well-shot. Joshua Boone may not be the most expressive actor in the world but he’s got a great voice. That said, this is still a Tyler Perry film and the story is still both melodramatic and predictable. The framing device of the attorney reading the letters is rather clumsily handled and you’ll be able to guess the identity of the attorney long before the end credits roll.

The main problem with the film, to be honest, is that Willie Earl is a far more intriguing character than Bayou. Willie Earl’s story is the interesting one and, as the film comes to a close, you find yourself wondering what Willie Earl did with the rest of his life. Unfortunately, Perry doesn’t tell you or provide any hints. His script uses Willie Earl as a dramatic device (and as an excuse to indulge in a bit of biblical allegory) but Austin Scott gives such a strong performance in the role that he takes over any scene in which he appears. Can there be redemption for Willie Earl or is he doomed to spend the rest of his life in denial? Does he regret his actions or is he so blinded by jealousy and hatred that he can justify the worst possible betrayal? It’s the most interesting question that the film leaves us with but Perry doesn’t seem to realize that.

In the end, A Jazzman’s Blues indicates that, with the right resources, Tyler Perry can direct a real film. But perhaps he should collaborate with another screenwriter. A Jazzman’s Blues is not a bad film but it’s hard not to feel that Perry missed an opportunity to make it even better.