It’s not typically the kind of film I’d seek out but the Oscar buzz and nominations made me check it out. It’s based on the play by August Wilson and while I’m not a big fan of plays, I can appreciate that sometimes staging a film like a play can work to its advantage by giving the viewer the feeling that they’re a fly on the wall, observing characters, scenes, and secrets.
Ma Rainey is definitely staged like a play, with the majority of the film comprised of lengthy scenes in the same three or so rooms of the recording studio where “Mother of the Blues” Ma Rainey (who I learned was, in fact, a real person) is making a new record. This stylistic choice is beneficial to doing some of the things it sets out to do, like bringing us closer to the characters and anchoring us to one location, but it’s almost too contained–to the point of being claustrophobic (which could absolutely be what director George C. Wolfe was going for, but it didn’t work for me).
Despite some successful production design and costuming, Viola Davis is the real draw here and gives a great performance as Ma Rainey. However, throughout the film I got the feeling that she (and the screenplay) only scratched the surface of Ma’s character. It seems like there’s so much more to tell, so it’s baffling why there’s not more of her. Ma Rainey’s name is in the title of the film, but it goes many lengthy scenes without her being mentioned or appearing. Instead, there’s a large focus placed on her bandmates. Ranging from the pragmatic Cutler to the naïve and high-dreaming Levee (Chadwick Boseman), they’re given just enough details to flesh them out, though it’s Levee who has the meatiest role. Chadwick Boseman gives a good performance here (his last on screen performance, it would turn out) as the tormented trumpeter who’s determined to make a name for himself. It’s a good part and Boseman puts a lot of raw emotion into it, but if I had watched it without knowing he was nominated for an Oscar for the role, I wouldn’t have thought it anything remarkable.
The film is only one hour and thirty minutes, but the lengthy tangential, and occasionally irritating monologues slow down the pace. As smart as the language and passionate as the performances, it just reminds you that people don’t talk that way in real life. There’s also an incredibly jarring scene in the film’s final few minutes that is shocking in its violence and doesn’t feel completely earned.
Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom didn’t receive an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, and it’s not hard to see why. The story just isn’t robust enough. There’s enough good material in August Wilson’s play and the real-life story of Ma Rainey herself to make for a compelling biopic, but shackling the film to the framework and staging of its play source material keep it from elevating it to greatness.
7/10
Reviews from the Couch 