Judas and the Black Messiah: Film Review

Cast: Daniel Kaluuya, Lakeith Stanfield, Jesse Plemons

Director: Shaka King

Shaka King's provocative Judas and the Black Messiah may lack some of the punch of a righteous discourse, but it doesn't shy away from the power thanks to a strong, stirring and awards-worthy performance from Daniel Kaluuya.

And in many ways, it's not a new story - a man's arrested by the FBI (as personified by Plemons' GMan) for a crime, and then used as a pawn to bring down someone who's been a thorn in the FBI's side. (In fact, many will see elements of Spike Lee's BlacKKKlansman in parts here.)

But what Judas and the Black Messiah has is a timeliness, and an indignation and energy that compels it through some of its narrative shortcomings.

Kaluuya is Fred Hampton, the local leader of the Illinois Black Panthers in the late 1960s, a man who is on the FBI radar for his charismatic approach to race issues, and who has the power to unite differing factions to form a coalition against the government. When Bill O'Neal (Stanfield, reuniting with his Get Out colleague Kaluuya) is arrested for a petty crime and given the chance to infiltrate the Panthers, he takes it.

But on the way to becoming the Judas of the title, O'Neal starts to rally with the cause, and question his need for betrayal...

There is electricity in Judas and the Black Messiah and it crackles on the screen.

It's largely thanks to Kaluuya's mesmerising turn as Hampton, the poet who didn't know it pastor of the chapter who rallies with his words, but who falters into a shy romance behind the scenes. From the moment he slopes onto screen, Kaluuya imbues Hampton with a humanity and a presence that's hard to deny - scenes later on where he delivers a rousing speech to members are utterly compelling, leaving you with hairs standing up on your arms, and galvanising you into action after a truly shocking final turn of events.

As O'Neal, Stanfield is perhaps a little quieter, and suffers from a script that doesn't quite sell his uncertainty in his role as the informant. The story wants to take him from being in love with the idea of being in with the feds, to faltering as the possibility of execution and discovery dangle Damocles Sword-like over his head - but a lack of time with O'Neal doesn't help sell the quandary nor the fact he goes from being oppressed to wanting to help change the tide of racial repression.

Thankfully, large swathes of the film are in such edge-of-your-seat territory, and held unflappingly together by King's camera and sense of spectacle, that the wobbles dissipate into the background of a well-constructed drama. Period detail is spot-on too, with some excellent lighting work spotlighting the tensions, divides and extremes of late 60s Chicago.

Yet restraint benefits Judas and the Black Messiah greatly, and as a result, the final sequences really hammer home the injustice and leave you shocked. Timely in its execution, and depressingly prescient, Judas and the Black Messiah is a rousing, stirring piece of film-making which throws light on a chapter unknown outside of the US thanks to Kaluuya's force-of-nature performance.