DOLEMITE IS MY NAME: Eddie Murphy Comes Back With A Bang

The value of representation has perhaps never been as close to the mainstream as it is today. There are, of course, many who continue to fight tooth and nail to keep our stories white, male, straight, etc. but more and more people find it exceedingly normal, as well as righteous, for marginalized and underrepresented groups to want to see people who look, talk, and think like them on the screen. By and large, this is a good thing, for sure, but the conversation often remains severely narrow; limited to surface level issues like the precise number of women or people of color in a story or program rather than the broader implications of a production’s financing, distribution, and ethos.

By focusing on these issues, which have always been front and center in the history of Blaxploitation, Craig Brewer’s Dolemite is My Name manages to break the mold of films about the making of wacky films. Rather than make Rudy Ray Moore or his films the lazy butt of the joke, the biopic uses the backdrop of 70s zero-budget Black filmmaking to emphasize the fact that these films have always been, at their core, a profound labor of love. In the process, Brewer makes the utmost use of Eddie Murphy, both pre-formatively and metatextually, making this one of the most satisfying comeback vehicles in years.

Wild Movies About Wilder Movies

The most obvious comparison that comes to mind from recent memory is James Franco’s The Disaster Artist, which chronicled Tommy Wiseau’s wild journey in the making of The Room. As undeniably fun as Disaster Artist was, it always felt lacking; especially to those who were already familiar with the story of Wiseau and Greg Sestero. Beyond the obvious comic appeal of The Room’s history, Franco did not seem to have much of a reason to adapt the far superior and more compelling book of the same name. With the exception of a handful of scenes, the film barely scratches the surface of the story’s heart, opting instead to reminisce on what the audience, most probably, already knows; that both Tommy Wiseau and The Room are sublimely strange phenomenons, and watching them in motion is anything but boring. It worked, sort of. The film earned swell returns and Franco won a Golden Globe. But two years later, it’s hard to think of that project too kindly, knowing now how hard it leaned on the richness of its source material as a crutch.

In sharp contrast, Dolemite is a bombshell of a biopic that hits the ground running right from the beginning. Rudy, played by Murphy in a career-high, is pushing fifty with no hope of breaking into any kind of entertainment industry. In an economic opening act, we learn that he moved to Los Angeles from rural Arkansas in the hopes of escaping an abusive father and a dead-end life, only to find himself stuck in a menial job as an assistant manager of a record store. He has his friends and a part-time gig as an emcee at a local club, but he also has his dreams which don’t seem to be going anywhere. Then one day, inspired by a drunk homeless man who consistently stumbles into his store to perform rhyming jokes, he decides to start yet another career as a character comic named Dolemite.

Just who he is, is not important. All you need to know is that Dolemite is his name and f*cking up motherf*ckers is his game. In a surprise turn of events for everyone, but Rudy, Dolemite kicks off, first across Los Angeles, then the country. It’s not long before Rudy, being the restless mad genius he is, grows unsatisfied and decides to set his eyes on an even bigger prize; the movies.

DIY Filmmaking

As enjoyable as Rudy’s rise through comedy is, roughly the first third of the film, the real magic kicks in once he starts prepping to shoot a film no one has any idea how to make. Unlike some other Blaxploitation filmmakers, who may have had some modest crews and resources for production, Rudy was truly working with a shoestring budget and a crew that he assembled as he went along. This leads to plenty of comedy, but Brewer and his cast are wise to never leave it at that. From the beginning, it is clear that this is not a story about a quirky man who made an oddball movie that has grown only funnier and stranger over time. Rather, it’s the story of a man who was so determined to assert the existence of himself and his community that he risked everything to his name just to make a movie that, for all he knew, might not have been seen by anyone outside his block.

Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski’s script often inches towards didactic monologuing, but never steps overboard so that the message feels dishonest or hammered in. Pair that with a cast to die for (from Keegan Michael-Key as a conflicted and lovable Jerry Jones to Wesley Snipes as the scene-stealing cynical director D’Urville Martin) and every genuine beat lands. When Rudy and his friends angrily leave Billy Wilder’s The Front Page, prompting him to proclaim right then and there on the sidewalk his mission to make films by Black folks and for Black folks, Murphy’s dynamism and seamless shift from goofy levity to intense sincerity sells the scene. Similarly, when Da’Vine Joy Randolph’s Lady Reed later stops Rudy to thank him for carving a role in the film for her, she cites the fact that she had never seen someone who looked like her on screen. In the hands of a less balanced actress, such a statement might come across as forced, but out of Randolph it is moving and sobering.

Dolemite Is My Name: Conclusion

By refusing to turn Rudy or any of his peers into a joke, Dolemite manages to be a loving ode to Blaxploitation and Black independent filmmaking while still being one of the funniest films of the year so far. It’s good to see Eddie Murphy finally find his footing again, especially in a role whose inspiration is definitive proof that anything can happen when people come together to make a movie for the sheer love of the movies.

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