Netflix’s new film “Shirley,” the biopic about Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm’s historic 1972 presidential campaign, captures a critical moment in time but also offers a rueful look at the limitations of electoral politics.
In the film’s opening moments, a series of graphs illustrate the size of the United States House of Representatives. From the hundreds of white men in this governing body, they drill down to the handful who are Black and the handful who are women before showing the lone figure who is both: Regina King as Shirley Chisholm. We see her stand out in a sea of white faces and black suits on the steps of the Capitol as the freshman class of Congress members gather for a photo opportunity.
The energy shifts considerably when it cuts to her celebration back in Brooklyn. Director John Ridley presents the block party as a smorgasbord of intersectional unity, showing how Chisholm lives her values. She is progressive but pragmatic—an idealist who understands the necessity of compromise.
She is progressive but pragmatic—an idealist who understands the necessity of compromise. Regina King holds the whole picture together in her depiction of Chisholm.
King holds the whole picture together in her depiction of Chisholm. Sporting her signature beehive hairdo, even while struggling hard with the Bajan accent, King presents her as a figure whose place in history makes perfect sense. Even with the benefit of hindsight, the viewer will feel the urge to support her, the desire to see her win an election that was an impossibility from the start.
But, for all the film’s aspirational verve, it remains a haunting viewing experience. On the surface, “Shirley” is an average big-screen biography, hitting the important Cliff notes of public life. We see the seeds of Chisholm’s future divorce from her first husband. There’s some time spent exploring her difficult relationship with her sister (played by King’s real-life sister Reina). Standouts include sensational events like her meeting with Huey P. Newton (Brad James) with Diahann Caroll (Amirah Vann) as a go-between and visiting segregationist George Wallace (W. Earl Brown) in the hospital after his assassination attempt.
But, for all the film’s aspirational verve, it remains a haunting viewing experience.
These asides add useful texture to her underdog story as a long-shot presidential candidate who doesn’t even have the support of her own party. However, the same moments designed to venerate what Chisholm accomplished end up being damning details when you consider the big picture. The movie may be visually bland and formulaic, but underneath that, there is a quiet tragedy about the myth of changing the system from the inside.
During one of the film’s many strategizing sequences, Chisholm is told that the logistics of managing a national campaign are a lot more challenging than she believes them to be. Her response? “It needn’t be.” King sells the line with a comforting assurance, making the film feel like Ridley cosplaying Aaron Sorkin. At times, this approach to the backstage of politics calls to mind the centrist salve of “The West Wing,” which is alternately endearing and grating when juxtaposed against Ridley’s early screenwriting and the acerbic wit of his novels. That softness makes the film feel more like it’s from the man who directed the mediocre Jimi Hendrix biopic “Jimi: All Is by My Side” than the one who won an Oscar for writing “12 Years a Slave.”
But a galvanizing moment early in the film comes back to bite viciously. Christina Jackson plays a young supporter of Chisholm’s, whose radical perspective is initially mocked. When she tells Chisholm that electoral politics aren’t her scene and that she isn’t even registered to vote, she is told that if she refuses to vote, she is nothing but a “yeller and a screamer.” That yellers and screamers don’t get anything done. The young woman turns out to be future Congresswoman Barbara Lee.
2024 is an election year. Social media is already flooded with arguments against third-party candidates and how voters must align behind the most realistic figure to save democracy from evil (again). When the film’s final act gets Chisholm enough delegates to be in the conversation at the Democratic National Convention, she is stabbed in the back by various allies who all line up behind George McGovern. This effort famously failed to stop another Nixon term. But when a rationale is given, Chisholm and her supporters are referred to as “dreamers and fools” with the same infantilizing scorn she had previously reserved for the “yellers and screamers” who wanted to exclude themselves from the same jaundiced process that fails her.
For a film to function this much as a defense of electoral politics and the possibilities of hope and change, this leaves a far more sour taste in the viewer’s mouth than its postscript procession of historical happily-ever-afters. As a monument to Chisholm’s great work and what she represents for all those she inspired, “Shirley” is a watchable-enough affair. But it doesn’t feel like anybody involved quite realized how sad and bittersweet a tale they were telling.
For a film to function this much as a defense of electoral politics and the possibilities of hope and change, this leaves a far more sour taste in the viewer’s mouth than its postscript procession of historical happily-ever-afters.
“Shirley” is currently streaming exclusively on Netflix.
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