3.5 out of 5 stars

In Scott Sanders’ delightful spoof of/homage to blaxploitation films, only one lesson needs to be accepted upon watching: this is Black Dynamite’s world, and we just have the pleasure of living in it. This should be obvious from the eponymous protagonist’s introduction, as his upper half dips towards the camera with each thrust he executes, which somehow satisfies the three women below him simultaneously, their faces a picture of pure ecstasy. But even after his passionate love-making, he shows that he still cares about these women’s welfare, even as he’s referring to them in a crass and dehumanising way.

Success with the ladies comes easily to Black Dynamite. Then again, so does everything in life. The most fundamental essence of the character can be found in the fact that although he’s a committed humanitarian who longs to make his community a better place, he must look cool doing it. The latter trait is often of greater importance than his good deeds, even if he isn’t self-aware enough to recognise it. As strange as this comparison may seem on the surface, at times Dynamite is akin to The Office’s (2001–03) David Brent, in that both characters’ ignorance shines through most when they are trying to stick up for others.

Their awkward gaffes around race are even more pronounced because of how well-meaning they are, like this protagonist’s pained reminiscence on his time in the Vietnam War. In particular, he is overcome by a tragic incident involving a young boy, who Dynamite incorrectly refers to as Chinese so many times that it’s a wonder he doesn’t start rambling about how the boy’s Chinese lips inhaled and exhaled Chinese air. But while both works want us to laugh at these characters and their foolishness, Black Dynamite is so goofy in its approach that it’s more absurd than cringe. The intentional stupidity is too pronounced for it to warrant any other reading.

This ties over into the film’s many ‘errors’, like boom mics appearing in the shot, a character who flubs his lines by rattling off stage directions, and other key players in the film looking bewildered when their scene partner makes a mistake. Gloria (Salli Richardson), a Black Power activist concerned that her community’s local leaders don’t have the people’s interests at heart, often displays an expression of bewilderment at Dynamite’s self-importance, looking off into the distance as if someone is standing out of frame that can empathise with her exasperation.

As long as you’re paying attention, these moments are easy to spot, but there’s so much happening in each scene that it still feels like you’re unearthing a treasure trove of comedy. Black Dynamite is the kind of film whose laugh-to-minute ratio is more unbalanced in favour of the former than the vast majority of comedies. Sanders summed up the heart of the movie’s humour succinctly:

“It’s just a little too badass. That’s the tone of the movie. Our humour comes from the fact that the movie is just a little too badass.”

Dynamite is all things to all people, but most importantly, he’s better than everyone else. In a jaded world where it would appear that ‘The Man’ is lurking around every corner, with shadowy conspiracies showcasing how the system is trying to tear down black men, the entire structure of this fictional society is poised for a single black hero to take the reins and herald in change. This is par for the course in blaxploitation films. While several movies within this genre feature female protagonists—Pam Grier especially—oftentimes they’re infiltrated by a condescending attitude towards women, which Black Dynamite satirizes brilliantly.

Though Gloria is a community leader looking after the most disenfranchised and in need of assistance—orphaned children who have recently developed drug addictions thanks to odious influences in the neighbourhood—she’s also depicted as uptight and out of touch. She might correctly assess the problems ailing her community, as well as how to fix them, but she lacks the personal touch, too entrenched in being a self-serious career woman to recognise that charm and personality go a long way.

It’s a completely farcical notion that Black Dynamite, a profoundly unintelligent deadbeat who’s fathered so many children out of wedlock that he can’t enjoy a stroll through the neighbourhood without bumping into one of them, ends up ‘taming’ this headstrong leader. By the end of the film, she is one of two trophy women literally at his feet. In abandoning her post to be just another mistress, Gloria has seemingly loosened up and become a far happier person.

Black Dynamite‘s cunning insight into the casual discrimination of patriarchal thinking takes nothing away from just how hilarious these scenes are. While its criticisms of the genre it pays tribute to are obvious in Gloria’s character development (or more accurately, regression), none of these characters are so important that it isn’t amusing to laugh at their folly. The irony embedded in the film’s approach to gender is most apparent through Black Dynamite’s endless reserve of self-seriousness, who nonetheless treats Gloria’s mental fortitude as if it is a wild beast in need of conquering, so he can show her how to be a woman.

Black Dynamite is constantly demonstrating to others how they can better themselves, without this advice-giving ever being reciprocated. You see, when this protagonist is challenged to change his ways, that’s an invitation to mess with an almost supernatural force for good, which simply can’t be abided by. The farcical tale it presents is akin to a storybook adventure, with a main character who resembles a self-insert from an immature author trying to make themselves look as cool as possible. The real-world problems the movie so briefly touches upon highlight this ridiculousness, where the seismic weight of systemic pressure can be overcome by a lone individual (so long as he has a few henchmen lending their assistance now and then).

As a reward for continually conquering the unconquerable, this protagonist has earned the love of all those with some of it to give, who are only too happy to make themselves subservient to him. When Black Dynamite completely tears down a Black Panther for disrespecting him, the other man swallows his pride and apologises with such meekness and sincerity that it’s disarming. I say this because the film often features absurdly clunky dialogue, where exposition is repeated again and again to this protagonist, mostly about the horrors afflicting his community and the film’s inciting incident, the death of his younger brother Jimmy (Baron Vaughn).

These lines are supplemented by stiff delivery from virtually every actor here. It makes Michael Jai White’s leading performance stand out, where his commanding delivery allows Dynamite to get away with the most bare-faced of lies (like when he tells Gloria that he is smiling, even though his expression hasn’t deviated one iota from its characteristically stern look). This also amplifies Black Dynamite’s excellent use of expressive side characters, like Cream Corn (Tommy Davidson), a Katt-Williams-like idiot whose penchant for yapping to an unholy extent, high-pitched squealing, and pathetic attempts at running are a welcome dose of whimsy in a film with a stone-faced, ultra-cool protagonist.

The stiff line delivery, clunky dialogue, and sometimes phoned-in acting don’t just work on their own merits as a hilarious, loving throwback to blaxploitation classics, they also make the brief subversions in the dialogue all the more hilarious. In a rare burst of believable emotion, Black Dynamite angrily proclaims to a prostitute that he will send her back “to Crenshaw Pete with the hot ass coat hangers,” and the brief look of terror on the woman’s face before she scurries out of sight is so unlike anything that precedes it that it feels as if we’ve just been slapped in the face. It’s also really, really funny.

Anyone who watches Black Dynamite is bestowed the honour of witnessing one of cinema’s greatest “solving the mystery” scenes, as Dynamite and his comrades crack an absurdly convoluted code. The answer? That a brand of “Anaconda” malt liquor has been devised by The Man to emasculate black men by shrinking their genitals (which is quickly followed by a scene featuring more than one harsh zoom-in on an unfortunate victim’s limp penis). The fun being poked at the hypermasculinity of Blaxploitation films here needs no explanation, even if its roots come from a place of understandable paranoia (see: the Tuskegee Syphilis Study).

Composer Adrian Younge knows exactly how to tap into soulful, funky tunes that are as funny as they are appropriate to the period they depict, with the film’s visuals and colour palette similarly complimenting the film look of 1970s cinema, particularly cheap ’70s cinema. With the desire to mock movies of this ilk being just as pronounced as the love Black Dynamite emanates for blaxploitation, the film’s vision is wonderfully realised through painstaking efforts that ensure that it doesn’t descend into one bitter joke. As its main character correctly asserts:

There’s no I in revolu(tion) — in team.

For all the movie’s ridiculousness, it’s hard not to root for Black Dynamite. We should despise a man with no discernible flaws and all the romantic company he could want, but while he is virtually unstoppable and has an enviable life, the forces that be are still conspiring against him and his people, necessitating his help. He’s the only figure in this community who can get things done and never falters in the face of despair.

The SFX for fight scenes might be playfully goofy, but for as much as the stock sounds lean into slapstick humour, the action is genuinely badass in its own right on occasion. While the same can also be said of this main character, the film’s story leaves something to be desired. Some plot strands are set up well early on in the narrative, but it meanders frequently with no guiding through-line beyond Dynamite’s quest to defeat evil itself. A more conventional mission, which would retain Jimmy’s death as a core aspect of the plot instead of a throwaway incident, would have justified the story’s many left turns.

As it is, for as much as I adore many of Black Dynamite’s scenes, I struggle to consider it a great film. Upon each rewatch I find myself laughing uproariously at its silly antics and marvelling at how intelligent this film is in capturing its ironic stupidity. But there comes a point where it invariably loses focus. When exactly this turning point occurs shifts slightly with each viewing, but regardless of when the movie betrays its lulls in momentum, it is a continued reminder that Black Dynamite works better as a fascinating experiment than a cohesive feature film.

USA | 2009 | 84 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

frame rated divider retrospective

Cast & Crew

director: Scott Sanders.
writers: Michael Jai White, Scott Sanders & Byron Minns (story by Michael Jai White & Byron Minns).
starring: Michael Jai White, Salli Richardson, Arsenio Hall, Tommy Davidson, Kevin Chapman, Obba Babatundé & Richard Edson
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