MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 500 titles—from the silent era through the ’90s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Malcolm X (1992, 200 minutes)
The 1965 assassination of fiery civil-rights spokesman Malcolm X was a devastating blow to those who loved him, directly reflected in the passionate music of New Thing tenor sax players Albert Ayler, Pharoah Sanders and Archie Shepp, as well as the writing of LeRoi Jones, who chronicled this African-American musical revolution in Downbeat magazine. Director Spike Lee unflinchingly brings the story of the onetime Nation of Islam minister to life: from the blood-stained streetcar tracks where his father was murdered by ignorant rednecks to the crimson zoot suit of his hipster days.
Malcolm Little, known as “Red,” looks nervous as his local barber slathers on the blistering paste that will give his customer a “conk,” meant to straighten out his curly mop whose tinge of red was inherited from Malcolm’s Scottish grandfather. “Don’t be scared, son. You’re in the hands of an expert,” says Shorty the barber (Spike Lee). “This shit could burn a hole through cement!” warns a kibitzer. “It is heating up a bit,” says Red (Denzel Washington) as he struggles to get out of the barber chair.
“Gimme a hand here!” says Shorty, imploring the onlookers to restrain his customer until the painful goo does its work. “I got to get this out! It’s gettin’ in my eyes!” screams Red as he runs to a nearby sink. “It’s straight, right? Because I ain’t doin’ this again!” he says anxiously. Pleased with his sharp new look, Red declares, “Well, all reet!” as he strides downtown in a gaudy zoot suit, his new hairdo covered by a flat-brimmed hat the size of a garbage-can lid, as a pheasant tail-feather tucked on the side dangles in the breeze.
Sometime later, Red takes offense at remarks about his mother made by a drunken lout in a bustling New York City night club. The loudmouth is sent bloodied out into the street after Red busts an empty gin bottle over his noggin. Sitting at the quiet end of the nitery, a smooth-talking, conservatively dressed black man known as West Indian Archie beckons Red to his table. The bartender explains that Archie has his well-manicured fingers into many different pies.
“Come closer,” says Archie (Delroy Lindo) in a soft Caribbean accent. “I’m not fixin’ to bite you.” Archie instantly takes a liking to the younger man, and has a good laugh, when he finds out Red’s mother hails from Grenada. “I like your heart. You might just do, Mr. Red,” he murmurs. What Archie does not like is Red’s garish, bebop attire. “Come with me. I’m taking you shopping,” he says and soon has Red decked out in a muted, grey, double-breasted number. “You look good, but you’re missing something,” says Archie handing over a small pistol. “This was my first gun,” he pronounces, “and now it’s yours.”
