Sun shining on every corner of actor’s career
Years of struggle as a supporting player have led to Domingo’s turn in spotlight
Colman Domingo has a commanding physical presence, an expressive face and soulful eyes. But his most limber and powerful tool is his voice.
It can go low in a bone-rattling baritone, like in his Nigerianaccented pimp in Janicza Bravo’s “Zola.” Or it can rise to the warm, erudite rhythm of civil rights leader Bayard Rustin, in “Rustin.” In Steven Spielberg’s “Lincoln,” Domingo’s voice, as a union soldier, is the first thing you hear.
Domingo, himself, isn’t sure when his voice became so resonate. Tracing it sends him back to his childhood, growing up a self-described outsider — gay, awkward, unsure of himself — in west Philadelphia. That voice, he says, wasn’t there 20 years ago.
“At some point, as I grew into this person, comfortable in my own skin, sexuality, my mind, my intentions, who I am in the world, I think my voice developed more,” Domingo says. “I don’t know that I had this voice before. All the resonance in my voice, I can hear it. There’s confidence. There’s
gravitas to it. I hear exactly what people hear now.”
His performance in George C. Wolfe’s “Rustin” — Domingo’s first time atop the call sheet — has made the 53-year-old journeyman actor a favorite for a best actor Oscar nomination.
It’s a deft and dazzling leading performance that channels all the complexities of the March on Washington architect.
Domingo also co-stars as Mister, the abusive antagonist of “The Color Purple,” one of the most anticipated holiday releases.
Throw in the fall-festival hit “Sing Sing,” in which Domingo stars alongside a cast of mostly formerly incarcerated actors (A24 will release it in 2024), and you have the full spectrum of what Domingo is capable.
Years of struggle as a supporting player in service of others have finally led to his turn in the spotlight.
“I started to feel like: Well, what happened, God? What is my journey? At some point, my
on without them?
A young couple unexpectedly inherits a rambling estate. Score!
But the wife suffers a head injury and suddenly she can see and hear the many many ghosts who occupy the home. It’s a motley crew of opinionated, dysfunctional, ridiculous personalities spanning the ages who have landed in a purgatory of sorts: Your soul stays where you died. Her husband eventually accepts this new normal, but otherwise the ghosts remain a secret to anyone else.
The American version is from creators Joe Port and Joe Wiseman, and it’s quite good (and expected to return in February), but the first thing you notice about the UK original is that it’s less sitcomy in its rhythms. It’s also just shot better and more cinematic. The writing’s a smidge sharper. Rooted in a joyously absurd sense of humor, the strength of both shows is how they transcend the initial gimmick and create space for characterbased comedy that’s not at odds with the occasional poignant moment.
The BBC series premiered in 2019 and is coming to an end after five seasons. It stars Charlotte Ritchie and Kiell Smith-Bynoe as the new owners of this country estate. (Ritchie might be best known to American viewers from “Call the
Midwife.”) The property comes courtesy of one of her distant relatives who had no other heirs.
The home sits on the site of a former plague pit — a mass grave where victims of the Black Death were buried — and those are the ghosts who occupy the cellar. (Their delight when someone comes down and turns on the light is only matched by their sighs of disappointment when that same person exits and turns off the light behind them.)
There’s also a monosyllabic cave man (Laurence Rickard), a World War II Army officer (Ben Willbond), a woman accused of being a witch who was burned at the stake (Katy Wix), a member of Parliament who bit the dust, sans pants, in a 1990s sex scandal (Simon Farnaby), a prim Edwardian-era woman who was thrown to her death from a window (Martha Howe-Douglas), a bubbly aristocratic woman from the 1700s (Lolly Adefope), a melodramatic poet from the 1800s who was killed in a duel (Mathew Baynton) and an upbeat Scout leader who died in the 1980s when one of his charges accidentally shot an arrow through his neck (Jim Howick).
Viewers familiar with the CBS series will note the similarities (the pantlessness and arrowthrough-the-neck gags) as well as the differences, which feel like the right sort of changes tailored to the differing histories of Britain versus the United States.
The ghosts are supernatural roommates who get along as often as they bicker. Occasionally they offer up their haunting talents to scare off intruders: “When I pass through livings, they smells burnings,” says the one who was burned at the stake. Excellent, another ghost replies sarcastically, “None of those are plural.” The Scout leader tries to keep things chipper: “Hello!
And welcome on behalf of me and my fellow dead people!” The poet grumbles about his old frenemy Lord Byron: “He stole my verse, my destiny and now he is to steal the woman of my dreams.” You say every woman is the woman of your dreams, someone points out. “I have a lot of dreams!” When the couple needs the ghosts to leave them alone, they distract them with DVDs of “Friends.” Surprise, they love it!
The strongest episode sees the manor rented out to a film crew shooting a period drama. The execution is just great.
Egos abound in both the living and ghostly realms, the latter of whom are weirdly mesmerized by the spectacle and proximity to celebrity.
There’s no indication that CBS intends to air subsequent seasons of the UK series, but I hope the network considers it. TV could use more comedies where the camaraderie is actually funny.