2 days ago
8
Denzel Washington. Don Cheadle. Morgan Freeman. Laurence Fishburne. Idris Elba. Viola Davis. Halle Berry. Cynthia Erivo. Angela Bassett. Octavia Spencer. To say that the cast of Apple’s new two-part, feature-length documentary series is stacked would be an understatement, and that truly is only a smattering of its many interviewees: I’d be here all week if I listed every single one. A celebration of black excellence in Hollywood, these two films are produced by the likes of Jamie Foxx and Kevin Hart, and stuffed full of household names who have made it to that coveted No 1 spot on the call sheet – in other words, the top-billed star of a production. They also offer a potted history of how black actors came to thrive in Hollywood – and the struggle baked into almost every stage of that process.
Episode one focuses on male stars, juxtaposing more established names with a new generation of actors, such as Michael B Jordan, John Boyega, Daniel Kaluuya and the late Chadwick Boseman. We start, though, with Sidney Poitier, and the debt that so many performers feel towards the pioneering star of In the Heat of the Night and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. Director Reginald Hudlin cleverly segues between archive footage and new interviews, as we observe Washington’s tribute to Poitier on stage at the Oscars in 2002 (the former won best actor, while the latter picked up an honorary Academy award). Present-day Washington then adds more colour to the story, namechecking the stars who Poitier had in turn tipped his hat to: James Edwards, Canada Lee, Paul Robeson and – of course – Hattie McDaniel, the first black Oscar winner (in 1940, for Gone With the Wind), whose story we return to in the “women” episode.
We race through the decades – via Blazing Saddles and blaxploitation – before arriving at Eddie Murphy’s imperial phase, when he showed that a black comic actor could garner mainstream acclaim in films such as Beverly Hills Cop and Coming to America. If you’ve forgotten just how big a deal Murphy was in the 80s and 90s, he’s here to remind us, complete with some wicked anecdotes, such as, er, the time James Brown advised him to bury his money in the woods to keep it away from the government. As his life story begins to coalesce with that of his biggest fan, Will Smith, there’s the risk of these actors going all luvvie central on us. But, luckily, even when Smith (and, later, Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson) begin to speak in riddles and motivational metaphors, the episode stays on the right side of self aware. Its best moments are those that highlight candid, endearing memories, such as Boyz N the Hood’s Morris Chestnut confessing that the film’s Cannes success went right over his head (he remembers asking: “Are they gonna release it here in LA …?”).
The second instalment – directed by Shola Lynch – pays homage to Whoopi Goldberg in the same way as it does Murphy, reminding viewers that, at the peak of her powers, she was the cream of the comedy crop and totally devastating as Celie in The Color Purple. But Goldberg had to fight for even her most memorable roles; she explains that she only got Sister Act because Bette Midler wasn’t available, and Patrick Swayze fought for her to be cast alongside him in Ghost. Elsewhere, we hear from actors at the top of their game who are yet to get the awards-show recognition they deserve; the disappointment on Erivo’s face as she learns that Renée Zellweger has won the 2020 best actress Oscar is positively heartbreaking. Meanwhile, the temptation to generalise is resisted. After all, audiences of all races are likely aware that Halle Berry – a former beauty queen whose acting skills were initially underestimated – has had different challenges to overcome in the industry than, say, Gabourey Sidibe. Sidibe speaks beautifully about not conforming to beauty standards: in the way she cared for the titular character in the 2009 film Precious; and feeling that she could relate to a girl who was “not the sexpot, not the popular girl – not even the one with the cool sneakers”.
It isn’t a perfect set of films. Samuel L Jackson is conspicuous by his absence (surely the film-makers could’ve grabbed five minutes with him?!) and Quentin Tarantino makes a needless cameo. And I’m not convinced that splitting the films by gender was necessary. But, Number One on the Call Sheet is still a joy to watch – as a loving homage to black Hollywood’s past and a sign of its rude health in the present.
