Directed by Shaka King
Written by Shaka King and Will Berson
Starring LaKeith Stanfield, Daniel Kaluuya, and Jesse Plemmons
Runtime: 2 hours and 6 minutes
Rated R for violence and pervasive language
In theaters and on HBO Max Feb. 12

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, The Red Herring 

When I was in high school, I had a single year of American History when I was a junior in 2002. We were supposed to cover 1492 through 2001 in a single school year. I think we got to the Gilded Age, leaving a century of history absent. Even if we had gotten to the 1960s, I doubt that any favorable words would have been associated with the Black Panther Party or Fred Hampton. Even in Philadelphia, education is very white. I’ve had to digest much of “the American Century” through my own life experience, reading, and pop culture. Of course, this is all filtered based on my own conscious and unconscious biases, which means it can be somewhat limited. 

In particular, much of the 1960s feels as though it is filtered through the nostalgia of Baby Boomers, and those works aren’t aimed at a younger generation. Forrest Gump isn’t made for me, and neither are The Big Chill or American Graffiti. Trial of the Chicago 7 at least tries (and sort of succeeds) at connecting the events of the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention to current events through use of both historical parallels and suggesting how those events shaped what has happened since. Spike Lee’s Blackkklansman and Da 5 Bloods are more explicit about this from the vantage of the United States history of white supremacy and the Black experience.

Everything about the problems caused by this lack of education and our nation’s unwillingness to even discuss issues of racial injustice in a serious way is summed up by this film:

Judas and the Black Messiah, directed by Shaka King, depicts the story of how Fred Hampton was murdered in his bed by the Cook County, Illinois State's Attorney's Office working with the Chicago P.D. and the FBI in December 1969.

The fact that this movie feels radical just by portraying things that actually happened is a symptom of this country’s problems. Of course, the film is so much more than that, and just depicting these events is not what makes a good movie. That context feels to be how many people watching the film will experience it, and so that context does give it some additional power. 

All of this was on my mind when I first hit play on Judas and the Black Messiah. By the time the end credits rolled, the film had absorbed me to where I was living in the moment with its characters, not ruminating on how and why this film needs to exist. That’s one of the highest compliments I can give it. As someone who loves learning about history (even when the details are painful or hard to confront), my brain sometimes gets stuck in history mode. But Shaka King’s film never forgets to be an entertaining film, in addition to exploring one of the darkest moments in American history. 

The film’s title refers to its dual stories. Judas refers to William O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield), a low level criminal pressed into service by the FBI to spy on Black Panther Party leader Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya). Everybody from J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen) down to Bill’s handler, Roy (Jesse Plemmons) is concerned that the Panthers are a terrorist group. Roy often compares the Panthers to the Klan. Unspoken is that the FBI’s work against the Klan typically resulted in jail time of a few years, rather than the cops murdering them at home, in bed, with their pregnant girlfriends. Before long, Bill’s life is caught between the two forces, unable to extricate himself from the situation, and therefore unable to reconcile his fondness for Hampton and the ideals of the Black Panthers with his work as an FBI informant. 

Making O’Neal the main character is an interesting choice for a number of reasons. At the start, he acts as an audience surrogate, coming from the outside into the movement. Secondly, it helps King deftly avoid reducing him into either a fully tragic figure or full villian. It would be easy to make O’Neal a clear-eyed opportunist, a non-believer. Just as easy would be to make his actions too sympathetic as someone who got in over his head. With a performer as talented LaKieth Stanfield taking on the role, King chooses to depict O’Neal as all of these things–a complicated figure. For much of the film, the walls are closing around the Panthers and all he can do is watch. Several times he tries to get out, and tries to milk the FBI for as much personal gain as he can. Documentary footage at the end of the film also seems to reveal that O’Neal never quite got over these events. All of these choices take confidence, and Judas and the Black Messiah earns this confidence over and over. Stanfield is riveting in the role. 

Daniel Kaluuya has a different, but no less challenging task in playing Fred Hampton. Playing a real person in possession of legendary charisma is always a risk. There is a chance the actor’s charisma will not translate to the screen within the performance. Thankfully, Daniel Kaluuya is magnetic as Hampton. It helps that we see Hampton intimately, not just giving speeches and acting as a leader–some of the most powerful moments of the film show him as a friend, a lover, a human being. Seeing an iconic figure brought to life on screen with so much humanity is exactly why you cast someone as talented as Daniel Kaluuya. 

When King namedrops The Departed in relation to this film, it makes total sense. Judas and the Black Messiah, while providing important details and facts that American education often sidesteps, is a genuinely thrilling film. Knowing Hampton’s fate only adds a sense of dread to the entire film, not knowing only intensifies the thrilling twists and turns of the real story. By using the trappings of the crime genre, with its double-crosses, conversations at low-lit restaurants, and shocking outbursts of violence. Films like The French Connection and Zodiac transform fact into fiction. Films designed to thrill help us examine how our society succeeds or fails at protecting innocents–and who it sees as criminals. Bringing old wounds to the surface is exactly what Judas seems designed to do, and rightly so. The way the story is told keeps it immediate and intimate, and therefore more powerful. 

Judas and the Black Messiah is already one of the essential films of 2021, as riveting as it is heartbreaking.