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      Jazz Onscreen, Depicted by Black Filmmakers at Last

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyCritic’s NotebookJazz Onscreen, Depicted by Black Filmmakers at Last“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” “Sylvie’s Love” and “Soul” understand the music and its place in African-American life, a welcome break with Hollywood history.Hitting the right notes: The pianist Joe (voiced by Jamie Foxx) playing in a combo led by a saxophonist (Angela Bassett) in “Soul.”Credit…Disney Pixar, via Associated PressDec. 29, 2020, 1:33 p.m. ETMidway through “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the new Netflix drama based on August Wilson’s acclaimed stage play, the title character drifts into a monologue. “White folk don’t understand about the blues,” muses Rainey (Viola Davis), an innovator at the crossroads of blues and jazz with an unbending faith in her own expressive engine.“They hear it come out, but they don’t know how it got there,” she says as she readies herself to record in a Chicago studio in 1927. “They don’t understand that that’s life’s way of talking. You don’t sing to feel better, you sing because that’s your way of understanding life.”Time seems to roll to a stop as Rainey speaks. The divide between her words and what white society is ready to hear lays itself out wide before us. That, you realize, is the fertile space where her music exists — an ungoverned territory, too filled with spirit, expression and abstention for politics and law to interfere.But maybe this scene is only so startling because of how rare its kind has been throughout film history. The movies, with few exceptions, have hardly ever told the story of jazz through the lens of Black life.Now, inexcusably late, that is beginning to change.Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) views her music as a way to understand life.Credit…David Lee/NetflixPiloted by the veteran theater director George C. Wolfe, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is one of three feature films released this holiday season that center on jazz and blues; all were made by Black directors or co-directors. The other two are New York City stories: “Sylvie’s Love,” by Eugene Ashe, a midcentury romance between a young jazz saxophonist and an up-and-coming TV producer, and “Soul,” a Pixar feature directed by Pete Docter and co-directed by Kemp Powers that uses a pianist’s near-death experience to pry open questions about inspiration, compassion and how we all navigate life’s endless counterpoint between frustration and resilience.The films present Black protagonists in bloom — musically, visually, thematically — giving these characters a dimensionality and a depth that reflects the music itself. It calls to mind Toni Morrison’s explanation for why she wrote “Jazz,” her 1992 novel: She wanted to explore the changes to African-American life wrought by the Great Migration — changes, she later wrote, “made abundantly clear in the music.”The new films outrun many, though not all, of the issues dogging jazz movies past, which have historically done a better job contouring the limitations of the white gaze than showing where the music springs from or its power to transcend. White listening and patronage don’t really enter these new films’ narratives as anything other than a distraction or necessary inconvenience.A jazz musician lands in a relationship that ultimately works in “Sylvie’s Love,” starring Nnamdi Asomugha and Tessa Thompson. Credit…Amazon StudiosEarlier this year, the critic Kevin Whitehead published “Play the Way You Feel: The Essential Guide to Jazz Stories on Film,” a survey of jazz’s long history on the silver screen. As he notes, jazz and cinema grew up together in the interwar period. But in those years and well beyond, Whitehead writes, the movies consistently whitewashed jazz history: “In film after film, African-Americans, who invented the music, get pushed to the margins when white characters don’t nudge them off screen altogether.”It was true of “New Orleans,” a 1947 film starring Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday that was supposed to be about Armstrong’s rise but was rewritten, at the behest of its producers, to put a tale of white romance at the center. It was true of “Paris Blues,” a 1961 vehicle for Paul Newman and Sidney Poitier, based on a novel about two jazz musicians’ interracial love affairs; that key element, however, was more or less erased in the screenplay. Ultimately the movie is about the struggle of Newman’s trombonist, Ram, to convince himself and others that jazz is worthy of his obsession. He insists that a career as an improvising musician requires such singular devotion that he won’t be able to sustain a relationship.In the past few years, jazz has shown up onscreen most prominently in the work of Damien Chazelle. His “Whiplash” (2014) and “La La Land” (2016) tell the stories of young white men who, like Ram, are torturously committed to playing jazz and the feeling of excellence it gives them. In these movies, jazz is a challenge and an albatross. But in “Sylvie’s Love,” “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” and “Soul,” the music is more a salve: a river of possibility running through a hostile country, and — as Rainey says in Wilson’s script — simply the language of life.In “Whiplash,” Miles Teller plays a driven drummer being pushed by J.K. Simmons’s relentless teacher.Credit…Daniel McFadden/Sony Pictures Classics“Whiplash” focuses on the relationship between a demonic music teacher (played by J.K. Simmons in an Oscar-winning performance) and his most committed young student, Andrew (Miles Teller), who is driven by the desire to become a master drummer. The film offers a glimpse into jazz’s current afterlife in conservatories, where students learn its language through charts and theoretical frameworks, but most teachers give little attention to the spiritual or social makings of the music. Here again, we come up against the slightly misogynistic — and deeply depressing — idea that devotion to the music can’t coexist with romantic love and care: Andrew’s dating conduct is disastrous, and he proudly explains that it’s because of the music.“La La Land” follows a pianist, Sebastian (Ryan Gosling), who’s a few years out of music school. At the start, he’s seen dyspeptically punching the tape deck in his convertible, trying to memorize the notes on a Thelonious Monk recording as if they’re times tables. He views himself as a guardian of jazz’s past glories, and he’s committed to opening a club that will preserve what’s often framed as “pure” jazz. It’s a cultural legacy that, as a fellow musician played by John Legend gently reminds him, has not exactly asked for his help — though that doesn’t deter him.There’s a stark difference between these characters’ ways of relating to jazz and those of, say, Robert (Nnamdi Asomugha), the saxophonist in “Sylvie’s Love,” or Joe, the pianist in “Soul.” As Sylvie watches Robert play, she’s seeing him settle into himself deeply. There’s no gap between who he is on and offstage, except that he may be freer up there. Performing doesn’t become an unhealthy obsession; it’s life.While “Sylvie’s Love” hinges on a “Paris Blues”-like tension between art and romance, the two are ultimately able to coexist. Spike Lee’s “Mo’ Better Blues” (1990) and “Crooklyn” (1994) got halfway there, showing what it looks like for jazz musicians to have loving marriages. (Lee, whose father is a jazz musician, does not make it seem easy. But possible? Yes.) “Sylvie’s Love” takes that conflict and melts it away, as a great screen romance can.In “Soul,” Joe says that “the tune is just an excuse to bring out the you.”Credit…Disney Pixar, via Associated PressOn many levels, the most expansive and affecting of the new jazz films is “Soul.” A pianist and middle-school band teacher, Joe, is on the brink of death when his spirit sneaks into the Great Before, where uninitiated souls prepare to enter bodies upon birth. There he meets 22, a recalcitrant soul whom the powers that be have failed to coax into a human body.In his classroom, Joe (voiced by Jamie Foxx) preaches the glories of jazz improvisation, drawing on a true story that the famed pianist Jon Batiste, who ghosted the music that Joe plays, had told the movie’s director, Docter, and co-director, Powers. “This is the moment where I fell in love with jazz,” Joe says, recalling the first time he stepped into a jazz club as a kid. He caresses the piano keys as he speaks. “Listen to that!” he says. “See, the tune is just an excuse to bring out the you.”After an accident lands Joe in intensive care and his soul drifts out of his body, he and 22 hatch a plan to get him back to life. All souls, he comes to find out, need a “spark” that will touch off their passion and guide them through life. He knows immediately that his is playing the piano. That, he says, is his purpose in life. But one of the spiritual guides-cum-counselors that populate the Great Before (all named Jerry) quickly sets him straight. “We don’t assign purposes,” this Jerry says. “Where did you get that idea? A spark isn’t a soul’s purpose. Oh, you mentors and your passions — your ‘purposes,’ your meanings of life! So basic.”Their conversation is left wonderfully open-ended. But the point becomes clear, subtle as it is: Above meaning, above purpose, above any means to an end, there’s just life. Which is to say, music.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Watch Chadwick Boseman in a Scene From ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyAnatomy of a SceneWatch Chadwick Boseman in a Scene From ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’The director George C. Wolfe discusses a tense sequence featuring the actor and Viola Davis.George C. Wolfe narrates a sequence from his film featuring Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman.CreditCredit…David Lee/NetflixDec. 18, 2020, 11:00 a.m. ETIn “Anatomy of a Scene,” we ask directors to reveal the secrets that go into making key scenes in their movies. See new episodes in the series on Fridays. You can also watch our collection of more than 150 videos on YouTube and subscribe to our YouTube channel.A disagreement between musicians reaches a boiling point in this scene from “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the Netflix film adaptation of August Wilson’s play.Set in 1927, the film primarily follows the blues singer Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) and her band during a challenging recording session in a Chicago studio. One of those challenges involves the tensions that arise between Ma and her headstrong horn player, Levee (Chadwick Boseman).A conflict ignites when Levee doesn’t perform a song the way Ma requires. In this video, the director George C. Wolfe discusses how clashing personalities result in a catastrophic moment, and how he decided where a specific door, which plays a key part in the scene, would lead.Read the “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” review.Sign up for the Movies Update newsletter and get a roundup of reviews, news, Critics’ Picks and more.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ Review: All the Blues That’s Fit to Sing

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyCritic’s pick‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ Review: All the Blues That’s Fit to SingViola Davis and Chadwick Boseman star in a potent adaptation of August Wilson’s play.Viola Davis stars in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” August Wilson’s 1984 play about a recording session in Chicago in the 1920s.Credit…David Lee/NetflixDec. 17, 2020Updated 11:26 a.m. ETMa Rainey’s Black BottomNYT Critic’s PickDirected by George C. WolfeDrama, MusicR1h 34mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.“White folks don’t understand about the blues,” says the pioneering singer Ma Rainey, as imagined by August Wilson and incarnated by Viola Davis. “They hear it come out, but they don’t know how it got there. They don’t understand that that’s life’s way of talking.”Albert Murray, the great 20th-century philosopher of the blues, put the matter more abstractly. The art of the music’s practitioners, he wrote, involves “confronting, acknowledging and contending with the infernal absurdities and ever-impending frustrations inherent in the nature of all existence by playing with the possibilities that are also there.”“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” Wilson’s 1984 play about a recording session in Chicago in the 1920s, both dramatizes and expresses that duality. Absurdities and frustrations abound, and the lethal, soul-crushing shadow of American racism falls across the musicians and their instruments. The specific and manifold evils of Southern Jim Crow repression and Northern economic exploitation are unavoidable. The members of Ma’s band swap stories of lynching, assault and humiliation, and Ma fights with the white owner of the record label (Jonny Coyne). By the end of the play — a swift hour and a half in George C. Wolfe’s screen adaptation — one man is dead and another has seen all his prospects evaporate.[embedded content]But the sense of play and possibility, the joy and discipline of art, are also, emphatically, there. There in Ma’s big voice and smoldering, slow-rolling charisma. There in the tight swing of the players behind her — Cutler (Colman Domingo) on trombone; Toledo (Glynn Turman) on piano; Slow Drag (Michael Potts) on bass; and an ambitious upstart named Levee (Chadwick Boseman) on cornet. There in the voices and personalities of the actors: Turman’s gravelly wit; Domingo’s avuncular baritone; Boseman’s quicksilver; Davis’s brass. And there above all in the singular music of Wilson’s language, a vehicle for the delivery of vernacular poetry as durable and adaptable as the blues itself.This version of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” on Netflix, is part of an ongoing project to bring all of Wilson’s plays — a cycle representing aspects of Black life in the 20th century — to the screen. That makes it, in some ways, definitive by default, part of an archive of preserved performances that will introduce future generations to the playwright’s essential work.From left, Glynn Turman, Chadwick Boseman and Michael Potts are the players behind Viola Davis’s Ma Rainey.Credit…David Lee/NetflixIt’s also definitive because it will be hard, from now on, to imagine a Ma Rainey other than Davis, or a Levee to compare with Boseman. The rest of the cast is first-rate too, but those two carry the play’s meatiest, most complicated theme, and enact its central antagonism. Each character is an ambitious, inventive artist, and their inability to harmonize creates an undertone of tragedy that grows more insistent as the day wears on.Ma, who rolls into the studio late, flanked by her nephew, Sylvester (Dusan Brown), and her young girlfriend, Dussie Mae (Taylour Paige), can seem almost like a caricature of the “difficult” artist. She insists that Sylvester, who stutters, record the spoken introduction to her signature song. She demands three bottles of Coca-Cola (“ice-cold”) before she will sing another note, and continually upbraids her nervous white manager (Jeremy Shamos). But this behavior isn’t the result of ego or whim. It’s the best way she has found of protecting the value of her gift, which once it becomes a commodity — a record — will enrich somebody else. The hard bargain she drives is the best deal she can get.She also represents the old school — an established star who works in a Southern style that Levee thinks is behind the times. Part of the history embedded in the play is the story of the Great Migration of Black Southerners to the industrial cities of the North, and Levee suspects that his fleet, light-fingered approach to the blues will appeal to the tastes of the migrants, and also cross over to white record buyers. He epitomizes a different kind of artistic temperament as well — cocky, impulsive, tilting toward self-destruction. He argues with the other musicians, refusing to listen when they try to talk sense to him. He seduces Dussie Mae, a risky career move to say the least. He’s a young man in a hurry, eager to cash checks before they’ve been written.Of course it’s hard to watch Levee — to marvel at Boseman’s lean and hungry dynamism — without feeling renewed shock and grief at Boseman’s death earlier this year. And though “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” has been around for a long while and will endure in the archive, the algorithm and the collective memory, there is something especially poignant about encountering it now.Not because it’s timely in an obvious or literal way — the argument of Wilson’s oeuvre is that time to reckon with racism is always now, because Black lives have always mattered — but because of some unexpected emotional resonances. Wilson’s text is a study in perseverance, but it’s haunted by loss, and to encounter it at the end of 2020 is to feel the weight of accumulated absences.Some are permanent and tragic, like losing Boseman at just 43. Others are, we hope, temporary. This is a rendering of a work written for the stage that begins with a concert — a sweaty, sensual spectacle of the blues in action. It’s also a movie that you’ll most likely encounter in your living room or on your laptop, further confounding an inevitable identity conundrum. Should we call this theater, cinema or television — or a sometimes graceful, sometimes clumsy hybrid of all three?Maybe the question doesn’t matter, or maybe it will matter more once we regain our critical bearings and the theaters and nightclubs fill up again. But at the moment, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is a powerful and pungent reminder of the necessity of art, of its sometimes terrible costs and of the preciousness of the people, living and dead, with whom we share it. “Blues help you get out of bed in the morning,” Ma says. “You get up knowing you ain’t alone.”Ma Rainey’s Black BottomRated R. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. Watch on Netflix.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Viola Davis and Company on ‘Ma Rainey’ and Chadwick Boseman’s Last Bow

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      #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }The Best of 2020Best ComedyBest TV ShowsBest BooksBest MoviesBest AlbumsBoseman and Davis head the cast of the new drama. It’s the story of “a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her,” Davis said.Credit…Photo illustration by Jennifer Ledbury/The New York Times; Photos by Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images Europe; David Lee/NetflixSkip to contentSkip to site indexViola Davis and Company on ‘Ma Rainey’ and Chadwick Boseman’s Last BowMembers of the creative team discuss what it took to adapt the August Wilson play for Netflix and trying not to be “outdone” by the late actor.Boseman and Davis head the cast of the new drama. It’s the story of “a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her,” Davis said.Credit…Photo illustration by Jennifer Ledbury/The New York Times; Photos by Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images Europe; David Lee/NetflixSupported byContinue reading the main storyDec. 17, 2020Updated 10:57 a.m. ETA nation riven by racial violence, an industry with a history of exploiting Black culture, white executives eager to portray themselves as allies, and Black artists at the center of it all, contending with a system that would toast them with one arm and pick their pockets with the other.The story of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” August Wilson’s acclaimed 1982 play about Black pride, white power and the blues in 1927 Chicago, is as incendiary today as the day it was written. A new feature film adaptation, due on Netflix Dec. 18, revives Wilson’s historical narrative in a contemporary moment when so much and so little has changed.The second entry in his 10-play American Century Cycle, chronicling the Black experience in each decade of the 20th century, “Rainey” won three Tonys for its original run on Broadway. The film adaptation is already an awards contender for next year, thanks to a searing lead performance from Viola Davis and a powerful showing by Chadwick Boseman, in his final film role before his death from cancer in August.To play Ma Rainey, Viola Davis said she looked to “my Aunt Joyce and other Black women that I know to fill in the blanks.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixDavis plays Ma, an indomitable performer based on the real-life “Mother of the Blues,” whose unprecedented superstardom has taken her from tent shows in Barnesville, Ga., to a recording session in Chicago. The white men overseeing the session, visions of dollar signs dancing in their heads, fear and respect Ma like everyone else in her gravity-bending orbit, including her girlfriend Dussie Mae (Taylour Paige) and quartet of seasoned backing musicians: Levee (Boseman), Cutler (Colman Domingo), Toledo (Glynn Turman) and Slow Drag (Michael Potts). But when Levee’s own career ambitions put him at odds with the group, its fragile infrastructure threatens to implode.The Tony winner George C. Wolfe (“Angels in America”) directed the film from a script adapted by Ruben Santiago-Hudson. In a recent round-table conversation, conducted via video chat, Wolfe, Davis, Domingo, Turman and Potts discussed working with Boseman, Rainey’s potent legacy and asserting your worth in a world built on your devaluation. These are edited (and spoiler-free) excerpts from our conversation.The movie is dedicated to Chadwick Boseman, who delivers an unforgettable performance as Levee. What are some of your memories of working with him? What did he bring to the performance that you saw as his collaborators that we might not know about as viewers?GEORGE C. WOLFE I remember one time, when the band was just sitting around during rehearsal, he started to launch into one of his final monologues. It had all been very casual. And then, at a certain point, it wasn’t casual — it was a fully invested moment that was full of energy and intensity and truth. I just remember thinking, “Oh, we’re going there?” And he went there. We were all sort of half the characters and half who we were, and then, in that moment, the half that was the character took over. And it was kind of glorious.From left, Glynn Turman, Chadwick Boseman, Michael Potts and Colman Domingo.Credit…David Lee/NetflixGLYNN TURMAN I loved the way he always had his cornet nearby. He was always doing something with it, becoming familiar with it, discovering how a musician and his instrument become one. Anytime he picked it up, it was in the right position. Anytime he set it down, it was in the right position. Anytime he put it to his mouth, it was in the right position. He became a musician. It was wonderful to watch that. We all kind of took that cue not to be outdone, as actors do. [Laughter]COLMAN DOMINGO That’s the truth.WOLFE Who, this group? I’m confused. [Laughter]I wonder, when you look at his performance now or when you watch the film, does it play differently at all for any of you in light of his passing? Has its meaning changed for you in any way?DOMINGO Absolutely. I watched it the other night and I heard Chad’s language in a different way. You see his strength and his humor. It brought tears to my eyes very early on, knowing what I know now. And knowing we were all very well able-bodied people and we were doing this tremendous work, showing up and wrestling with August’s language. This man had another massive struggle on top of that. I don’t know how he did it. I sat with myself for a good 15 minutes after watching it and I had a little cry, especially when I saw the dedication. It truly struck me that he’s not with us. I knew he wasn’t, but to see that written, it kind of decimated me.VIOLA DAVIS There was a transcendence about Chad’s performance, but there needed to be. This is a man who’s raging at God, who’s lost even his faith. So [Boseman has] got to sort of go to the edge of hope and death and life in order to make that character work. Of course, you look back on it and see that that’s where he was.I always say, a carpenter or anyone else that does work, they need certain tools in order to create. Our tool is us. We’ve got to use us. There’s no way to just sort of bind whatever you’re going through and leave it in your hotel. You’ve got to bring that with you, and you need permission to do that. And he went there, he really did.Boseman “became a musician,” Turman recalled. “It was wonderful to watch that. We all kind of took that cue not to be outdone, as actors do.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixGeorge and Viola, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is the only play in August Wilson’s American Century Cycle that is inspired by a real-life public figure. What do you think it is about her story that is ripe for drama?WOLFE I think one of the reasons that August was drawn to her is [that] she lived outside the rules. And when somebody lives outside the rules, it becomes very clear what the rules are. I love that she’s going to fight the fight, not thinking about the consequences. She’s going to fight the fight because she must. She reminds me of … my grandmother was like this. If you were a Black woman, if you waited around for somebody to acknowledge your power, it was never going to happen. So you had to claim your power. She has that quality that everybody has to evolve if you are an artist, period, and if you are an artist of color, magnified: This is the truth and this is my talent, and this is what I’m willing to do and this is what I’m not willing to do. I think she lived her life so purely that way. And if you set that in 1927, you’ve got drama, because the world isn’t acknowledging any of that.DAVIS One of the things I love about August is he gives us something that we have not had in a lot of narratives, especially in movies: autonomy. We’re always sort of shown in a filter of a white gaze. It’s like how Toni Morrison talks about “Invisible Man” by Ralph Ellison. She’s like, “Invisible to whom?” August defines us in private. If you ask any one of us who are on this Zoom call if we know anyone like Ma Rainey, who could beat your ass on Thursday and be in church on Sunday, who is unapologetic about their value, we grew up with people like that. And certainly, I think that it’s a great start for a narrative, to have a woman who was known for her autonomy, who did not barter for her worth, and the men who were around her.George C. Wolfe said that for Ma Rainey and other Black women, “if you waited around for somebody to acknowledge your power, it was never going to happen.”Credit…David Lee/NetflixViola, talk to me about stepping into the character of Ma Rainey. There is literally stepping into the costume, but there’s also the way she carries herself and the way she interacts with the world around her. Where did you find inspiration, and what did it feel like to become her on set?DAVIS You just have to look at the given circumstances. They said she had makeup that was like grease paint that was melting off her face. In the tent [during her performances], she always looked like she was covered in sweat. She was always wet-looking. She had a mouth full of gold teeth. She was described as not attractive. But because she was such a nurturer, some people were attracted to her.Like everything, I always say that if someone did a story about my life and they went to my husband and daughter, maybe talked to my mom, you’d still only get about 40 percent of me. The other part, you have to rely on your observations in life. You have to in order to get at what is driving that person. What are they living for? That’s when I had to get into my Aunt Joyce and other Black women that I know to fill in the blanks. Who was she in private? Who was she when she was with her women? Even if you didn’t necessarily see it, I had to use that as fuel.Glynn, Colman and Michael, so much of the electricity of the film comes from the interactions between the boys in the band. There’s a kind of jocularity and a camaraderie among you, but there’s also a current of tension and rivalry. Tell me about how you worked together to create that dynamic.TURMAN It starts from a place of really being able to enjoy each other’s company. I think we had a dinner one evening after rehearsal where we all went out after just meeting one another. Our friendship built on that foundation. Just like in real life, the pains and the discomfort come from how well you know one another, because the people who you know are the only people that can really get to you. So we all took great pain in trying to get to know one another within the time frame we had. That way, we were comfortable cussing each other out and giving each other [expletive]. And that took place onscreen and offscreen. [Laughter]MICHAEL POTTS It never stopped. You’re on set with a bunch of men who ain’t got no sense. They ain’t got no damn sense at all. [Laughter]Potts, above, Domingo, below left, and Turman. Along with Boseman, the actors playing the musicians set out to know one another, first over dinner, to get at how relationships in a band work.Credit…David Lee/NetflixCredit…David Lee/NetflixCredit…David Lee/NetflixDOMINGO I remember Chad came in one day. It was early in the rehearsal. He would come in with his hat cocked to the side and the trumpet with him. He comes in a room quietly, very gracefully. And I don’t know if it’s the Cutler in me as well, but I’m like, “Oh, so you just think you ain’t going to speak to nobody when you come in? You walk indoors and don’t talk to nobody?” [Laughter] He said, “Ah, no, no!” We were jocular in that way. But, from then on, he made sure every morning he came and said hello to his brothers and showed respect. Because the feeling was: We can’t be in our own heads. We’ve got to come in and just give over to each other. And that’s what we did.One of the major questions presented by the film is how you come to terms with your place in the world — as an artist and entertainer, but also as a Black person at the bottom of a rigid racial hierarchy. I’m curious if there were elements of the characters’ stories that resonated with any of you in your own artistic and professional journeys.DOMINGO I think that’s why this play is so resonant, especially for Black artists. You’re always trying to make sure your voice is heard, just speaking up and speaking the truth and saying, “No, my place in the world should be elevated because of what I give. I’m just asking for what I deserve, that’s it.” I think [the characters] are asking for that. I know, truly, that I’m asking for it. We’re all asking for it every day. We wake up fighting for it, go to sleep thinking about fighting for it. And we’re fighting for the next generation more than anything, trying to move the dial.DAVIS I find it exhausting. I do. I find it very necessary but exhausting. You’re fighting for your place. You’re fighting to be seen. You’re fighting to be heard. It’s always a fight. And it’s a fight for the simplest things that are given to other people without an exchange.My big thing is when I have to fight for my ability. I can’t stand that. That part of me is the part that went to 10 years of acting school, that did all of that theater, Off Broadway, Broadway, did TV, or whatever. And then you go into a room in Hollywood and you see that has a short shelf life when it’s attached to somebody Black. That’s what pisses me off. I don’t like when people question my ability. But I feel like that’s what all of August’s plays are about — fighting for one’s place in the world. And here’s the other thing: You don’t have to be a king or a queen. You don’t have to be someone up high. He has infused importance into our lives, even if we didn’t make it into a history book.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More