Dolemite Is My Name (2019) - Movie Review

In the annals of blaxploitation, there are a number of certified classics that basically make the genre what it is remembered for to this day. We’ve even covered a few on here like Super Fly and Shaft, but there’s also Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song (and yes, it is the inspiration for the title of that Simpsons episode where Willie chases a dog through some ventilation shafts), Coffy, Foxy Brown, and even more recent efforts like Black Dynamite. But for my money, especially given my own understanding of the genre as a major cornerstone of hip-hop culture, you’d be hard-pressed to find a film more influential than Rudy Ray Moore’s ode to the bad motherfucker that fucks up motherfuckers: Dolemite.

Not that that film ends up being the whole story with this biopic about the hustle and rise of Moore himself. It serves as the culmination of the plot, but it also follows him during his touring days, doing stand-up and music while building up the character that would go on to dominate cinemas. Knowing Dolemite’s legacy as a cult classic, and a decidedly amateurish one at that (seriously, it might as well have been called ‘Dolemite: Guest-starring Boom Mic’), this so very easily could have coasted as the more Afrocentric answer to The Disaster Artist. But that would’ve been too easy, not to mention too familiar, and pretty much everyone involved manages to do better than settling for the old stuff.

It is insanely cool to see these actors not only on screen once again, but in prime form across the board. Eddie Murphy as Rudy Ray hasn’t been this good in decades, tapping into his own Richard Pryor inspiration to echo the magnetising force of personality that, for as wonky as its production values are, makes the original watchable even today. Da’Vine Joy Randolph as Lady Reed makes for some impressively heartfelt moments, Keegan-Michael Key as the film’s writer is all kinds of hilarious, Craig Robinson as the music man adds a lot of soul to the proceedings, and Wesley Snipes as the director… holy shit, again, best he’s been in decades, possibly even ever.

As for the cats behind the scenes, we got Hustle & Flow director Craig Brewer, who brings a lot of disco aesthetic to the visuals, and the music by Scott Bomar is full of sweet and soulful funk and R&B, which melds beautifully with the original film’s soundtrack. Then there’s the writing team of Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, who continue to further the divide between their biographical work and basically anything else they’ve ever written. These guys know their shit in bringing the life and times of an artist to the big screen, and here, they depict Rudy’s come-up as a result of a lot of trial and error, all backed by an unending drive to be remembered the world over.

It’s far less Disaster Artist because, instead of trying to sympathise with the ambition of an artist who doesn’t know what he’s doing, it empathises with an entertainer who found his niche in rhyming toast speeches as raw as a Redd Foxx record, and wanted to give the world a taste of what he’s got. It definitely admits to the problems with the production of the film itself, right down to how barley anyone on-set even knew how to make a film in the first place, but it also taps into what a lot of hindsight viewers tend to forget: For the most part, this shit wasn’t meant to be taken that seriously. Hell, when they film the sex scene and you see all the goofy shit happening in the background, it’s difficult not to agree with Murphy’s statements about critics when it’s clear that they weren’t entirely vibing with what was actually going on. Then again, looking at Murphy’s career over the last couple decades, I can’t help but think that was just him ad-libbing about the responses to Norbit or Meet Dave or A Thousand Words.

Actually, that last bit about Murphy’s resurgence with all this is what ultimately wins me over. Not that the film had to work that hard to do so, but as a production, it’s highly commendable. It’s a film about a highly-influential comedian and artist, himself portrayed by a highly-influential comedian and artist, and they both end up elevated into the status of legend in the process because there is that much synergy between them as performers. It’s the kind of casting that would normally just serve as the nucleus for the superfluous stuff to revolve around, much like the original Dolemite, but with how all the other actors and crew are on their A-game, it makes for a fantastic ride and a surprisingly uplifting look at why Dolemite, and blaxploitation as a whole, is such a vital part of the American cinema landscape.