Regina King runs for president in ‘Shirley’
‘Shirley,” the Netflix biopic about Shirley Chisholm’s historic 1972 presidential run, plays like a filmstrip my grammar-school teachers would have shown during Black History Month. Those shorts were overly simplistic and gave only a cursory outline of the historical figure they discussed. The subject’s noble achievement took center stage, with little explanation of who they were or the circumstances that led to their historical importance.
The result was an air of nobility that approached legendary status but had little else to offer. For example, the strip on Rosa Parks made it seem like her sole purpose in life was to not give up her seat on that bus.
Too many Black biopics follow this model, supplementing a one-dimensional history lesson with gauzy cinematography and that church lady singing “hmmmm-HMMMM!” on the soundtrack. An inspirational song usually plays over the end credits, one that tells us how we have to stand up and fight or how we’ll persevere and overcome.
Despite an impressive pedigree in front of and behind the camera, “Shirley” fails to convey just how remarkable the career of Shirley Chisholm really was. The problem isn’t the narrow focus on one of her accomplishments, it’s the even narrower depiction of who she was as a person.
Regina King brings a feistiness to the role, but that’s the only angle she has to play. The script by writer-director John Ridley (who wrote “Undercover Brother” and “12 Years a Slave”) sketches every aspect so thinly that watching the film becomes an exercise in frustration. Since we don’t have an inkling as to what drives the first Black congresswoman ever to serve in the House of Representatives, Chisholm comes off more hardheaded and unwise than “unbought and unbossed” (as her famous presidential campaign slogan described her).
“Shirley” begins in 1968 when Chisholm was elected to the House of Representatives. An opening title tells us that, prior to Chisholm’s victory, the House had only five Black members — all male. Chisholm represented the Brooklyn district that includes Bedford-Stuyvesant until 1983, mentoring several future politicians during her tenure.
One of those mentees, Barbara Lee, has been a California representative in the House since 1998, when she replaced Ron Dellums. Both Lee and Dellums are supporting characters in “Shirley.” Lee (Christina Jackson, excellent here) joins Chisholm’s presidential campaign as a young activist with ties to the Black Panthers. Dellums (Dorian Missick) is one of the naysayers who wants all the Black delegates to unite under a candidate who has a chance to win against Nixon.
(That eventual Democratic candidate, George McGovern, got clobbered in 1972, winning only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia in the general election.)
Several other real-life politicians appear in “Shirley” and are brought to life by a slew of talented actors. The late Lance Reddick is very good as Chisholm’s political mentor and campaign manager, Wesley “Mac” Holder. His scenes with King crackle with intensity, but they quickly fall into a rut where
Holder advises Chisholm to do one thing before she does the opposite.
As her youth-campaign manager (and her most prominent white staff member), Robert Gottlieb, actor Lucas Hedges brings an “aw shucks” sense of awe to his scenes with King. Gottlieb’s youthful hope keeps cynicism at bay. He even calls Chisholm “Mrs. C,” as if he were Fonzie addressing Richie’s mom on “Happy Days.”
Terrence Howard coasts by on his powerful presence as Arthur Hardwick Jr., Chisholm’s colleague in the New York State Legislature (and future husband). As Chisholm’s first husband, Conrad, Michael Cherrie quietly conveys the pain of being unable to live in the shadow of his more famous wife. And André Holland has a grand old time playing flashy Democratic congressman Walter Fauntroy, with whom Chisholm makes an unwise political deal early in the film.
The most surprising cameo comes from W. Earl Brown as racist Alabama governor, George Wallace. When Wallace was shot and paralyzed during his Democratic presidential campaign in 1972, Chisholm ignored her advisers and went to see him in the hospital. The optics were terrible, but she went “because I’m a Christian.” The film doesn’t explore this rationale any further, which makes her decision look politically foolish.
If you watch “Shirley,” ask yourself what it told you about Shirley Chisholm. Do you know what drove her to pursue such a quixotic quest? Do you know if she knew it was quixotic? What really went on between her and her sister, Muriel (played by King’s own sister, Reina)? Why wasn’t Chisholm’s more important community work covered? And why didn’t white feminists of the time join forces with her or support her?
That last answer can be found in “Mrs. America,” the 2020 FX series that starred Uzo Aduba in her Emmy-winning role as Chisholm. Thanks to the writing, Aduba gives a more complex performance, and she gets the job done in an hour. Ridley and company had twice the amount of time, yet the results are only half as good.