Truth isn’t merely stranger than fiction; sometimes it’s also more inspiring.
Director Reinaldo Marcus Green’s King Richard is many things: an amazing underdog story, a touching family drama, a gently powerful indictment of institutional racism, and — most of all — the inspiring study of one man’s determination to doggedly persevere, despite being repeatedly knocked down … in some cases, literally.
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| Serena (Demi Singleton, left) and Venus (Saniyya Sidney) listen intently as their father, Richard (Will Smith) emphasizes the need to give equal weight to training body, mind and soul. |
Given that Serena and Venus Williams serve as co-executive producers, there’s no doubt they’ve intended this film as a valentine to their father, and an acknowledgment of the miracle that he wrought. That said, there’s no false sentimentality here; the emotions are credible and authentic, the journey never contrived or sensationalized.
Actually, there’s no need; the truth is astonishing enough on its own.
Nor is this a hearts-and-flowers depiction of the man who molded two of the world’s greatest tennis stars. Will Smith’s starring performance — certain to earn an Oscar nomination — is prickly at times: frequently admirable, but often unlikable. By all accounts (including his own), Richard Williams was very difficult to live or work with: stubborn, demanding and often unreasonable, answering solely to his own (frequently bewildering) logic and carefully crafted vision.
He’s the epitome of “my way or the highway.” As it happens, though, his way usually proves successful.
Smith’s portrayal is all these things, along with nobler aspects: devotion to his wife and daughters; fierce protectiveness, to the point of personal peril; a stickler for family values and a solid work ethic; a shrewd judge of character; and a pragmatic awareness of the limitations society places on its Black citizens … along with a feisty desire to circumvent such restrictions, whenever possible.
He’s also the man of a thousand maxims. The film’s best running gag is the relish with which Smith delivers these pearls of wisdom, with a slight, totally endearing mangling of the King’s English: dead-on accurate to the actual Richard’s cadence … as is the unhurried, gently swaying manner with which he walks.
The performance is fascinating … as is the man himself.
Baylin’s script covers several crucial years in the early 1990s, and concludes with a late 1994 tournament in Oakland, California (at which point Venus is 14, and Serena 13). The film opens in Compton, where — despite Richard and his wife Oracene (Aunjanue Ellis) working multiple jobs — they’re able to afford only a small home; Venus (Saniyya Sidney), Serena (Demi Singleton) and their three sisters — Isha (Daniele Lawson), Lyndrea (Layla Crawford) and Tunde (Mikayla Lashae Bartholomew) — are stuffed into a single bedroom, sharing beds.
The house may be modest, but it’s clean, comfortable and safe … which can’t be said for the surrounding neighborhood. Baylin quickly sketches Richard’s taskmaster tendencies: Unless Venus and Serena are at school or studying, they’re rigorously practicing — rain or shine — on a dilapidated court they laughingly dub “the country club.”
In addition to their endearing acting chops — you gotta love their dogged “game faces” — both young actresses look and move comfortably on the court (although the actual tennis action, throughout the film, is handled by carefully integrated doubles).
Perhaps the most audacious part of Richard’s master plan, revealed early on, is that he and Oracene became pregnant with Venus and then Serena, with the specific intention of raising them to become tennis stars: all part of the 78-page “manifesto” that Richard frequently references.
But although Richard dominates these workouts, Oracene is equally involved and committed. Ellis makes her more grounded and practical than Richard; she’s also the one person who can challenge him. She may seem patient and compliant at times, but — when Richard crosses a line — Ellis, eyes blazing, leaves no doubt that she’ll go for his jugular.
The constant training sessions and Richard’s master plan notwithstanding, Baylin and Green repeatedly emphasize how crazy the whole thing seems: Tennis is an exclusively “white” sport, practiced and played in aristocratic country clubs where the only Black faces belong to the serving staff. This isn’t merely a glass ceiling; it’s the Great Wall of China.
On top of which, when Richard begins cold-calling coaches — seeking to find somebody to take the girls to the next level — he unapologetically expects them to take the assignment without payment, but solely for the “honor” of molding future superstars. (The man has chutzpah.)
No surprise: They all turn him down, during a deliberately whimsical montage orchestrated by Green and editor Pamela Martin. Future tennis stars from Compton? Gedouttahere.
Baylin and Green never make a big deal of this, but the unspoken racism is pervasive, like a bad smell: unseen, but ubiquitous.
As if this doesn’t make things difficult enough, Richard also encounters hostility from various other sides: notably a quartet of dangerous gang-bangers who trash-talk Tunde and humiliate him at every turn; and a nosy neighbor (Erika Ringor) who threatens to call child protective services, because (good grief!) she believes Richard works the girls too hard.
Throughout it all, Richard remains relentless, Smith’s jaw set with an optimism that seems as unlikely as the plan itself. He’s a real-life Charlie Brown: No matter how many times he gets knocked down, he gets back up. And then tries harder.
Richard’s character flaws notwithstanding, few movie heroes have captured our hearts and minds so thoroughly.
Savvy viewers will reach a point, during the story’s first act, when they realize there’s only one way for Richard, Venus and Serena to punch through the seemingly impenetrable barrier … and that’s exactly what they do, with a move that’s brilliantly bold.
Moving forward from that point, Tony Goldwin is all business as top coach Paul Cohen, who worked with John McEnroe and Pete Sampras; even so, that doesn’t stop Richard from repeatedly kicking in his two cents. Goldwin is a study of conflicted exasperation: He clearly recognizes the girls’ talent, but definitely isn’t sure it’s worth putting up with Richard.
Jon Bernthal is a hoot as gung-ho tennis academy guru Rick Macci, who seems the sports equivalent of the guys who tour the country giving inspirational self-help talks. Bernthal makes him so effervescent that we halfway expect the man to float; every word and gesture emerges with maximum enthusiasm.
But even when things begin to go right, Richard continues to “interfere” in ways that seem counter-productive … but, ultimately, aren’t. They’re simply unconventional.
And, because things are going right, Richard becomes adamant that the girls — indeed, his entire family — understand the crucial importance of remaining humble, and grateful, and true to their roots. Rarely have politeness and family values been emphasized so strongly in an underdog saga; rarely, as well, has it felt completely right.
It’s hard not to cheer. (It’s also hard not to think that the entire country should display more of such values, these days.)
The film concludes with its most lengthy game segment, as Venus enters Oakland’s Bank of the West Classic tournament … and I guarantee you’ll be at the edge of the seat.
Must-see movies don’t come along very often, but King Richard is one of the rare few: heartwarming, uplifting, triumphant and a tribute to the principled persistence of a man who refuses to be stopped by locked doors.
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