‘Charm City Kings’ builds on past depictions
Film based on 2013 documentary relies on familiar tropes
In 2013, filmmaker and former Maryland Institute College of Art student Lotfy Nathan wowed crowds and critics at SXSW with his enthralling documentary, “12 O’clock Boys,” named after the group of Baltimore dirt-bike riders that Nathan spent four years chronicling. The main character was a 13-year-old named Pug with a dream of becoming part of the group, and the film follows his conflicted path of either pursuing his childhood dream to be a veterinarian or being like the cool older guys in the city that he looked up to.
There’s an abundance of roadblocks that Pug has to maneuver on that journey: He loses his older brother, Tibba, to complications of an asthma attack; his bike is stolen by someone he can’t physically defend himself against; and just about every week, police and the local news media are hellbent on quelling the riders’ daredevil activity. On top of these struggles, he also has to weave his way through the challenges of growing up between West and East Baltimore — majority-black areas of the city that have their fair share of misfortune, even if that narrative is often dramatized for mainstream consumption.
The story of Pug and the 12 O’clock Boys is the foundation for “Charm City Kings,” an adaptation of the documentary that recently premiered on HBO Max. The film comes with big names attached, as it is executive produced by Will Smith and Jada PinkettSmith (the latter a Baltimore native), with the screenplay handled by Sherman Payne and a script developed by Kirk Sullivan, Chris Boyd and Oscarwinner Barry Jenkins (”Moonlight”). The protagonist of “Charm City Kings” is 14-year-old Mouse
(played by Jahi Di’allo Winston), a kid who, like Pug, has aspirations of being a veterinarian and lives in West Baltimore with his mother (Teyonah Parris) and younger sister. Even if it weren’t built off of Nathan’s documentary, the story is a familiar one: a young Black boy growing up in an underserved community who has to decide whether to stick to his innocent aspirations or risk his life to make a quick buck. This is what Mouse is tasked with navigating while in pursuit of being recruited by the Midnight Clique, the gold standard for dirt bikers in the city.
The parts of “Charm City Kings” where you see the Clique practically surfing across the city on their bikes, through tight streets and alleys via neck-turning camerawork, is where it excels. The film’s colorist, Sam Daley (“Succession,” “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” “Sorry to Bother You”), does a masterful job of massaging Baltimore’s dilapidation by adding a dreamy tint to these high-speed joyrides. Pacino Braxton (Jamal) and Lakeyria Doughty (Queen), a pair of deity-level West Baltimore riders, star in the majority of these invigorating scenes, which adds a refreshing element of authenticity. But beyond the ooh and ahh moments, the dirt bikers are largely seen as menaces in a onedimensional portrayal that reinforces stereotypes about the people and the community they come from.
The first time the Midnight Clique shows up, Jamal manipulates the cops into chasing him by throwing a brick through a squadcar window. Later, Clique members advocate for killing a man who stole a bike loaned to Mouse and end up beating the man within an inch of his life. And at every other point of the film, members of the Clique serve as villains who influence young riders to run drugs for them with the promise of loaned dirt bikes and money that’s unavailable anywhere else at their age. Director Angel Manuel Soto’s decision to emphasize this story line goes in direct contrast to “12 O’clock Boys,” where none of the above plot points are present. (The original documentary does a much better job exploring the motivations of the key figures in the scene to dirt-bike riding.)
The film’s bright moments feel small in comparison with the strife the majority of the characters experience throughout the film. “Charm City Kings” at times feels like a noble attempt to honor the city’s nearly 50-year tradition of minibikes and dirt bikes but ends up primarily adding to Black Baltimore’s publicfacing negative reputation.