GLR May June

ORDON

HOMPSON

AMES

ALDWIN

came alive as never be-

fore in Karen Thorsen’s documentary

James Baldwin: The Price Of The

Ticket

, first released in 1990 and rereleased

on its 25th anniversary in a newly restored

print. Doubly enhanced by the collaboration

of the late Maya Angelou, who provided

live readings of Baldwin’s work and acted

as scholar–advisor for the original film, this

refurbished and brightened version of the

documentary fleshes out Baldwin’s tactile

characteristics in a manner rarely captured

by any of his literary biographers. Here his

fey appearance—gay affect, clipped vocal

mannerisms, and mincing steps—warms

the heart.

A voiceover of Baldwin’s social and po-

litical wisdom accompanies the opening

credits that lead directly to scenes from

Baldwin’s funeral service at St. John the Di-

vine in Morningside Heights, beside Co-

lumbia University. The

cathedral’s magnificent, tower-

ing ceiling competes with large

African drums set at the foot of

the altar sending majestic per-

cussive proclamations echoing

off the walls. This sublime dis-

sonance is enhanced by the

clergy in high liturgical garb

moving between the celebrants

toward the African-attired per-

cussionists. The celebratory

though subdued mood of the

congregation also contrasted

with the vision of Baldwin’s

mother, inconsolably contorted

though held in check by griev-

ing relatives.

Thorsen whisks us away from this ex-

traordinary cacophony associated with his

death back to Baldwin’s early years. With

the assistance of historical footage inter-

spersed with enactments and commentary

from then living writers, the film touches

down on Baldwin’s birthplace in Harlem on

Park Avenue, offering a vision of his intimi-

dating father and the 135th Street library,

where he assiduously taught himself world

literature. We learn again that he began to

write creatively from at least the age of

eight, that P.S. 24 was his grammar school,

and Central Holiness Church of Harlem his

spiritual foundation.

While I enjoyed these memories, the film

also revealed aspects of Baldwin’s body to

which I had paid very little attention.

Though I had met him once, I did not recall

how short he was: a small, lower body

topped by a boyish chest and shoulders

upon which rested a formidable head. His

wide, otherwise notable nose is overshad-

owed by his inescapably wide, bulging

eyes. The well-recognized wrinkles of his

forehead are shown to deepen over time,

producing those ever-present, intensely

etched horizontal furrows that, in turn, in-

tersect with increasingly pronounced verti-

cal creases that plunge down to just above

the bridge of his nose. These features speak

to his state of deep contemplation that

seemed almost perpetual. Overall, I was

taken by Baldwin’s lithe physicality as jux-

taposed against his sharp jeremiads.

Suddenly, a familiar African-American

trope slices the air as Baldwin reveals that

once a waitress refused to serve him, explic-

itly attributing her decision to his color, thus

triggering a crisis in his early psychic life.

The full impact of Jim Crow appears to

have entered his consciousness at that mo-

ment, rocking his basic sense of self. The

many similar slights that would follow in

the wake of this epiphany Baldwin would

later, during his time in France and Turkey,

“vomit up.”

From Paris to Algiers, to Turkey, and to

the south of France, viewers witness the

great drinker and smoker, indeed the iconic

wielder of cigarettes: here Bette Davis had

nothing on Baldwin. Scenes of international

locales divert us as Baldwin makes his way

from place to place, affording spectators a

view of his positions on a range of topics—

his compassion for the French Algerian un-

derclass and his appreciation of traditional

Turkish culture, for example. Clearly, Bald-

win’s reasons for travel were not those of a

tourist; unfamiliar places helped him to see

himself more clearly.

The film focuses on a number of his nov-

els, such as

Giovanni’s Room, Go Tell It on

the Mountain, Another Country,

and

Beale Street Could Talk

, along with his play

Blues for Mister Charlie

. Baldwin may

have sharpened his craft prior to writing

these powerful books while working as a

book reviewer. He indicates that most of the

volumes he reviewed were about race rela-

tions—scholarship, one might say, that al-

lowed him to explore such issues more

broadly than he otherwise might have even

while honing his writing skills.

The choice of Maya Angelou to narrate

portions of Baldwin’s works—her melliflu-

ent tones heard throughout—ratchets up the

historical significance of this film im-

mensely. Also featured is writer and poet

Amiri Baraka, who offers searing political

and social commentary and a summation of

Baldwin’s life and politics. We’re reminded

of the enormous impact that the assassina-

tions of Martin Luther King, Jr., Medgar

Evers, Robert Kennedy, and Malcolm X had

on Baldwin’s artistic sensibility. In light of

these volatile issues and

events, Baldwin challenged,

not necessarily self-avowed

racists, but liberal Ameri-

cans who were blind to their

paternalism and ignorance

in the face of black oppres-

sion. To paraphrase one

commentator, Baldwin was

“telling white America what

it means to be black.” The

film reveals that Baldwin

remained tuned in to his

need to shine a light on

black life and assist those

of good faith with an inter-

est in eradicating racial

oppression.

I cannot recall another documentary on a

black writer that contained such breadth and

resonance. Scenes of Baldwin asleep, in his

underwear, walking down the street, talking

to children, visiting bars, etc.—his resplen-

dent soul always down-to-earth—were lov-

ingly and delicately recorded in this film. A

deeply humble man, he never strove for

anything that would take him above the dig-

nity of his mother, despite his celebrity sta-

tus. For this reason, one might wonder at

the pomp and circumstance at the Cathedral

of St. John the Divine in celebration of his

passing. He was a man of the people, work-

ing in the vineyard to speak the truth as he

knew it.

Gordon Thompson is professor of English

and African American Studies at City Col-

lege of New York.

James Baldwin Comes Alive in Film Classic

ART MEMO

The Gay & Lesbian Review

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