On Feb. 25, 1964 — on the eve of the name change that would prove so controversial — Cassius Clay became the world boxing champion after an upset victory over Sonny Liston, during a bout at Florida’s Miami Convention Center.
Following the match, Clay returned to his room at the Hampton House Hotel, where he spent a quiet evening with friends Malcolm X, Sam Cooke and Jim Brown … under the watchful eye of Nation of Islam security. Nobody knows what they talked about — at least, not to any great degree — but playwright Kemp Powers became obsessed by the notion of what could have been discussed by that amazing quartet, at that seminal moment during the nascent Civil Rights movement.
Basking in the euphoria of an historic sports upset by Cassius Clay (Eli Goree, second
from left), he and his friends — from left, Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), Malcolm X
(Kingsley Ben-Adir) and Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge) — are about to debate how best
to "market" such an outcome.
The result was 2013’s One Night in Miami, a 90-minute one-act play that Powers has just adapted into a film — available via Amazon Prime — helmed with capable assurance by actress-turned-director Regina King (an impressive feature film debut).
It’s a fascinating “what if” scenario. And even if hindsight has allowed Powers to shade the content of this encounter, the issues discussed certainly would have been just as relevant then, as they are today (sadly).
Making a movie from a play, particularly one of this claustrophobic nature, always involves the challenge of “opening up” the action, so that we don’t feel we’re merely watching a filmed stage performance. Powers and King get around this with some brief prologues that cleverly — and wincingly — blend Black oppression with failure.
Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), despite possessing more than two dozen Top 40 hits by this point in his career, flops miserably before a white Copacabana audience that radiates contempt. Clay (Eli Goree), facing Henry Cooper in June 1963, is knocked to the mat. (The astonished look on Goree’s face is an early indication of the almost eerie way he channels the once-and-future Muhammad Ali.)
Brown (Aldis Hodge), just beginning to transition from NFL fame to an acting career — having just wrapped his co-starring debut in 1964’s Rio Conchos — drops in on a family friend (Beau Bridges) at a Georgia plantation. What initially seems a congenial visit between equals who like and admire each other, takes a sharp left turn with a line from Bridges — delivered so blandly, so matter-of-factly — that we’re left breathless.
The subsequent shift to Clay’s victory over Liston therefore is even more triumphant, with Cooke, Brown and Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir) cheering in the audience. When they return to the hotel room, it’s with different intentions; Cooke and Brown hope to party, while the abstinent Malcolm X has something more important in mind.
The mood is light and larkish at first, with Malcolm X tolerating good-natured joshing. But then the tone shifts, becomes serious, with bitter, sharp-edged words wielded with the force of Clay’s fists.
Even so, it’s important to note that this isn’t a mutual evisceration match, akin to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. At no time do we lose sight of the fact that these men respect each other. The points being scored here are acknowledged, if not wholly accepted (and, as Powers intends, many of these verbal jabs resonate more strongly with us viewers).
The key issue, as Malcolm X calmly insists, is that seeking white “approval” merely perpetuates a submissive role. More to the point, it’s not enough for Brown, Cooke and Clay to be content with their own fame; they need to become beacons for the Black movement.
That’s a sobering concept. Most of us have enough on our plates, trying to support ourselves, achieve financial stability, successfully raise a family. The notion of having to represent an entire race is almost beyond comprehension.
This notion subsequently dominates Powers’ shrewdly perceptive script, and is debated with persuasive passion by all four actors.
Ben-Adir’s Malcolm X is calm, almost professorial; history has unfairly painted him as a rage machine, which obviously wasn’t the case 24/7. He’s a paternal influence here; it’s telling that he’s the only one, of these four, given scenes with his wife (Joaquina Kalukango) and family. Ben-Adir and Kalukango are warm and deeply affectionate, during their shared moments.
At the same time, Ben-Adir deftly navigates the dual roles of thoughtful sage and sharp-tongued gadfly; we can’t help wincing when he angrily denounces Cooke as a “wind-up toy in a music box” (a line Powers retains from his play).
Goree’s Clay is the “child” in the group: eager to please, deferential to Malcolm X in a way that feels sweetly innocent. Goree nails the stance and vocal inflections; at times, it really feels like we’re watching the proto-Ali.
Odom’s Cooke is restless, self-assured and justifiably proud of his accomplishments; he’s also the most defensive, in the face of Malcolm X’s arguments. Isn’t it enough, Cooke insists, that I’ve achieved economic freedom, and the resulting ability to help my brothers? Cooke is the most passionate of the four, the most likely to rise to Malcolm X’s barbs.
Hodge, in contrast, is watchful, measured and analytical; he gives Brown an almost regal bearing (accurately so, given the way the NFL star was regarded). Brown listens and bides his time; no surprise, then, that he’s the one who scores the most telling blow against Malcolm X.
Hodge has matured immensely since being part of the grifter ensemble on TV’s Leverage. He has the charisma of a movie star, and the graceful subtlety of a seasoned actor (and knows precisely how to take best advantage of Tami Reiker’s camerawork). He’s always compelling, but also fun to watch.
Lance Reddick is quietly chilling as Kareem X, head of the Nation of Islam security detail. His cold, reptilian gaze speaks volumes to those of us who know history; he and his team aren’t merely there to safeguard Malcolm X, but also to report back on what he says and does.
Indeed, Ben-Adir grants Malcolm X a melancholy, pensive moment that foreshadows the inevitable (probably a fabrication on Powers’ part, but it’s a forceful dramatic touch).
King handles her ensemble with finesse and confidence; the most savvy actors-turned-directors — and she’s clearly one of them — understand how to help their cast members maximize their characters’ strongest moments.
Reiker and production designers Page Buckner and Barry Robison plant us firmly in the mid-1960s, down to the very atmosphere of the hotel room.
It’s sobering to watch this film, remembering that Cooke would be shot to death not quite 10 months later; and — three months after that — Malcolm X would be assassinated by three Nation of Islam assailants. Reflecting upon this lost opportunity, of two lives cut so short, grants additional weight to the argument Malcolm X makes during the course of this truly fine production.
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