Spike Lee's Malcolm X: Film Analysis and Historical Accuracy

Introduction: Lee's Vision and the Film's Epic Scope

Malcolm X was not a man who could be easily characterized, and the same is true of Spike Lee's 1992 film. Malcolm X was a labor of love for Lee, who was only thirty-five at the time of the film's release. Lee had been a young child when Malcolm X was assassinated, so his knowledge of the man was not based on any personal recollections. Instead, he read The Autobiography of Malcolm X as a junior high school student and has said it changed his life forever (Hopkins, 2004). Lee's goal in making the film was to introduce Malcolm Little — later known as Malcolm X — to a new generation of African Americans. He felt it was an important piece of history that might otherwise be forgotten.

Lee realized that Malcolm X was a controversial figure, both in life and in death, and said that for this reason he wanted to make the film as accurate as possible. Lee succeeded in creating a film of epic proportions that shows the different facets of Malcolm's life. As a record of historical facts, however, the film has some major flaws.

Opening Imagery and the Rodney King Context

The film's opening shot is dramatic and leaves no doubt about Lee's feelings regarding Malcolm X as an American hero. With a voiceover using Malcolm's own words, the screen is filled with an American flag. It is reminiscent of the opening shot in Franklin Schaffner's Patton, the 1970 Oscar-winner about another controversial American. The degree of controversy swirling around General George S. Patton, however, can be considered minimal compared to the controversy surrounding Malcolm X, so the comparison is a bold one. In Patton, the General (played by George C. Scott) stands to the side of an enormous flag and delivers a rallying speech designed to convey his strength and determination while offering the filmgoer some insight into his character. His tone is proud and impassioned. Malcolm X speaks in an impassioned voice as well; his rhetoric grows stronger as the edges of the flag begin to burn. The now-famous video of the Rodney King beating is cut into shots of the burning flag.

The burning of the flag is meant to be shocking. It cues the viewer that the film to follow will make a strong statement — one that will definitely be considered controversial. When the flames are extinguished, what remains is an X made from the charred remains of the Stars and Stripes. It alludes to the hell that Malcolm X found in white-dominated American life and the trial by fire that made him the man and the activist who described himself, in his own words, not as American by virtue of being born in this country, but as "a victim of America."

The use of the Rodney King video in the opening — the first time the Warner Brothers logo was not used in one of the studio's films (Boyd, 1993) — is significant for several reasons. The use of black-and-white footage is meant to add credibility to the film as a factual account of Malcolm's life and work. Throughout the film, Lee intersperses actual historical footage with reenactments filmed in black and white.

Rodney King, often described in the press simply as a "motorist," was driving on the Los Angeles Freeway with friends one night in 1991. The California Highway Patrol (CHP) detected that he was speeding and attempted to pull him over. King, who was on probation for a robbery offense, feared the consequences of a traffic violation and led the CHP on a high-speed chase instead of stopping. By the time King was caught and ordered to leave his vehicle, additional CHP officers had arrived on the scene. King was tasered when officers decided he was uncooperative, and when further efforts to subdue him failed, several officers beat him viciously with their batons. The entire incident was videotaped, and even in the days before YouTube, the images made their way around the globe quickly. For African Americans, particularly those in Los Angeles, the video affirmed their belief that racial profiling and abuse by police was rampant (Gray, n.d.).

Lee's Malcolm X was released in November 1992, approximately six months after the devastating violence that erupted in the aftermath of the Rodney King verdicts. When white police officers were acquitted of charges by a predominantly white jury in suburban Simi Valley, the nation's worst race riots broke out. Ultimately, fifty-three people died and there was over one billion dollars in property damage (Hopkins, 2004). The King beating, the trial, and the riots were terrible moments in American history that tragically coincided with the release of Lee's film. In a way, however, the film could not have come out at a better time, given the heightened social and political awareness surrounding race relations. The video made a powerful statement about the treatment of African Americans and set up perfectly the story Lee was poised to tell.

Lee said that his film did not glorify any one phase of Malcolm's development as a Black leader but rather looked at "all the different Malcolms as making up one Malcolm" (Rule, 1992). It can be argued that the film divides Malcolm's life into three sections: his early years, his time in prison and growing awareness of Islam, and his post-prison activism. It can also be argued that Lee glorified Malcolm in each of these phases, using his actors, the script, and techniques of cinematography to do so in different ways.

The Early Years: Roxbury, Romance, and Crime

As the story opens, Lee's cameras zoom in on the action from above. The director characteristically used dollies to move cameras over and around his actors. The scene is Roxbury — Boston's equivalent of Harlem — in the 1940s. The set has an almost Disney-esque quality. The city looks not so much like a real street as a soundstage, and this is emphasized by Terence Blanchard's jazz score and the bright colors worn by the zoot-suiters and their companions.

The teenage Malcolm eagerly submits to the ministrations of a Roxbury barber, who applies a lye mixture to his head in order to "conk" — that is, chemically straighten — his hair. Malcolm grimaces as the mixture burns his scalp but is delighted with the results and exclaims, "Looks white, don't it?"

Malcolm (played by Denzel Washington) leaves the barbershop and, in a bright blue zoot suit, jive-walks with a friend directly toward the camera. Washington — more conventionally handsome and disarming than the real-life Malcolm X — radiates boyishness and a fun-loving nature. It is a stark contrast to the scene that shortly follows: a recollection of a Klan attack on Malcolm's boyhood home in Omaha.

In an interview with Bruce Perry, author of Malcolm: The Life of a Man Who Changed Black America, Malcolm's mother denied that the incident ever happened. It certainly lacks credibility. Omaha, even in the 1930s, would not have been as rural as Malcolm suggests, and it is doubtful that Klansmen would have arrived on horseback. The story was taken directly from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, written in 1965 and based on interviews with Alex Haley. Lee wanted to be true to the autobiography, which in some cases played fast and loose with facts (Rule, 1993). The Klan attack is one such instance. Lee acknowledges the improbability of Malcolm's claim through his use of an impossibly large full moon, against which the Klansmen are silhouetted as they ride away from the burning Little house. Savvy filmgoers will recognize the irony in Lee's dramatic recreation of Malcolm's version of events. It adds to the almost cartoon-like mood of the first part of the film — a mood broken intermittently by somber commentary from Malcolm and scenes depicting his father's murder.

The dance scene at Roseland is overly long and elaborately choreographed, designed to present a lighthearted but sexually charged Malcolm that will later provide greater contrast to the serious Malcolm revealed in the film's later sections. The frantic energy of the dancers provides the perfect backdrop for Malcolm's meeting of Sophia, a blonde "bad girl" whose presence at the all-Black club is never explained, though it is implied that she is bold, reckless, and looking for a kind of trouble she cannot find in her own white neighborhood. Malcolm takes home his date for the evening, a respectable young woman who dismisses his promise to phone her: "I'm not white and I don't put out."

Malcolm's scenes with Sophia are highly stylized. Once again, Lee moves in for close-ups from above when filming Malcolm and Sophia kissing in the back seat of a pale yellow Cadillac — almost cartoon-like with its exaggerated round shape, red upholstery, and shiny paint glistening in the moonlight as the car is parked along the river. Later, they walk along the beaches of Cape Cod, and although they are fully clothed, their passion in the sand is reminiscent of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in From Here to Eternity. The relationship between Malcolm and Sophia is also reminiscent of Lee's own Jungle Fever and, according to some critics, reinforces the stereotype that a Black man uses a white woman to "get" the white man. It also implies that there could be no real basis for a Black-white relationship other than lust and curiosity (Bell, 1993). In the beach scene, Malcolm tells Sophia, "I wish your mother and father could see us now." The relationship is clearly about defying society's rules; there is no genuine affection between the couple.

In one of the final scenes of the film's first section, Malcolm and a friend are shown breaking and entering. Lee makes the scene comic by depicting Malcolm vainly struggling to pull a ring from the finger of a man slumbering next to his wife. There is almost a sweetness about Washington's Malcolm in this moment, and the viewer nearly forgets that a crime is being committed. The "profoundly flawed" (Marable, 1993) Malcolm barely exists. As Locke (1993) pointed out, "Lee depicts with clarity the horrors of racism that were beyond Malcolm's control, but he minimizes what Malcolm portrays in his autobiography as self-degradation, the acts of an animal."

Conclusion: Legacy Imagery and Final Assessment

As historical record, Lee's film has some flaws. Even Malcolm's own mother was willing to debunk some of the stories Malcolm had shared with Alex Haley for the writing of his autobiography. As has been noted, the film was based on that autobiography and not on other sources. Lee is certainly astute enough to have recognized that his movie rested on the biased account of its subject.

The final scenes of Malcolm X are particularly chilling. There is recreated black-and-white footage of the mortally wounded Malcolm being carried out of the Audubon Ballroom. There is actual footage of Martin Luther King, Jr., speaking about the "unfortunate tragedy" — a grim foreshadowing of his own assassination three years later. A number of prominent African American figures appear, including the beloved ballplayer Willie Mays — perhaps to demonstrate that racial prejudice affects even those whom white America might consider "acceptable" Black citizens. Someone like Willie Mays was seen as apolitical and as an American hero regardless of — or perhaps in spite of — his race, because he excelled at the all-American game.

Nelson Mandela is seen speaking to a group of children, presumably in a South African classroom. One by one, the children stand and proclaim "I am Malcolm X," suggesting that they will carry forward what he believed in. The final words of the film are "by any means necessary." Betty Shabazz explained what Malcolm meant by the phrase in an interview with Bruce Perry for his biography: she argued that Malcolm was not a proponent of violence and that "any means" referred to political, social, educational, or self-defensive action (Rule, 1993).

As the film closes, a large black X fills the screen, echoing the red, white, and blue X of the opening but now rendered in black to represent Malcolm's life, death, and legacy. Interspersed with shots of the X are black-and-white photographs of the real Malcolm X — not as portrayed by Denzel Washington. In one picture, he strikes a contemplative pose, chin resting in his hands. In another, he appears to be gazing into the distance, perhaps envisioning a future in which everything he fought for comes to pass.

One does not need to question Lee's mastery as a director, whatever reservations one may hold about the film's historical accuracy. In Malcolm X, he demonstrated — as a relatively young director — his ability to evoke mood and recreate an important era in American history. He drew solid performances from all his actors and employed inventive camera angles to infuse every scene with energy and motion. He used the musical score to establish atmosphere and provoke emotional responses from audiences. He effectively accomplished what he set out to do: tell the story of Malcolm X and enable the moviegoing public to gain a deeper understanding of one of America's most controversial and compelling figures.

References

Boyd, T. (1993). Popular culture and political empowerment: The Americanization and death of Malcolm X. Cineaste, 19(4), pp. 12–13.

Gray, M. (n.d.). The L.A. riots: 15 years after Rodney King. Time. Retrieved from http://www.time.com/time/specials/2007/article/0,28804,1614117_1614084_1614831,00.html

Hopkins, H. (2004). The making of Malcolm X. Footsteps, 6(5), pp. 30–33.

Lee, S. (Director). (1992). Malcolm X [Film]. Los Angeles: Warner Brothers.

Locke, J. (1993). Adapting the autobiography: The transformation of Malcolm X. Cineaste, 19(4), pp. 5–7.

Marable, M. (1993). Malcolm as messiah: Cultural myth vs. historical reality in Malcolm X. Cineaste, 19(4), pp. 7–9.

Painter, N. I. (1993). Malcolm X across the genres. American Historical Review, 98(2), pp. 432–439.

Rule, S. (1992). Malcolm X: The facts, the fictions, the film [Film review]. New York Times. Retrieved from http://partners.nytimes.com/library/film/111592lee-malcolm-content.html