JUDAS AND THE BLACK MESSIAH: FILM REVIEW
“A badge is scarier than a gun,” Bill O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield) tells FBI agent Mitchell (Jesse Plemons) after being asked why he used a fake FBI badge to steal a car rather than a gun. This exchange sets off a series of events that sends O’Neal into the Black Panthers as an FBI informant — assigned to climb up the ranks and get as close to head chairman of the party Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) as possible.
Shaka King’s 2021 film Judas and the Black Messiah follows O’Neal’s introduction to the Black Panther Party, which begins with taking classes taught by Hampton on the ins and outs of socialism and culminating in his appointment to the Panther’s head of security. By following the perspective of the informant, King offers a compelling and fresh perspective into the operations of the Black Panther Party.
The film builds suspense and tension throughout by pulling the viewer deeper into O’Neal’s conspiracy to infiltrate the Panthers. O’Neal is surprised at what the Panthers manage to accomplish, which range from free food programs to neighborhood protection to education initiatives. After being forced to do pushups in class for talking out of turn, O’Neal tells the FBI “These motherfuckers ain’t no terrorists. Shit, they terrorizing me!” Despite this realization, the FBI coerces him to continue on their mission by threatening him with violence and jail time. The more O’Neal gets entangled in the Panthers and moves up the ranks, the more he feels trapped between two worlds. He tries to break free but is overpowered by the FBI, who never cease to remind him that he is powerless against them. Still, the power of the Panthers grows steadily — seemingly in defiance of the resistance they face.
One of the most critical moments of the film occurs when Hampton forms a rainbow coalition with the various gangs and political groups active around Chicago. Hampton steps into a barn full of confederate-flag-carrying white people and delivers a powerful speech about how politics and culture must be put aside to extinguish the fire that is police violence and poverty across the country. Kaluuya delivers his lines carefully, and even the Panthers who know Hampton well seem impressed by his reach. The FBI agent on Hampton’s tail even remarks, “That motherfucker Fred, he could sell salt to a slug.”
The strength of the performances delivered by Kaluuya and Stanfield are highlighted through their ability to weave between each character’s double lives. When Hampton’s pregnant girlfriend asks him if he will be able to be a fully present father to his son, his answer is reaffirming but not reassuring. While his words promise commitment, he falters on delivery. Similarly, O’Neal’s character treads the line between being undercover, while constantly being visibly stressed for fear of being exposed as the traitor he is. Through the depiction of his double life, O’Neal is depicted not as a straightforward antagonist, but rather a victim of the violence of the state — even if his actions are morally reprehensible.
Judas and the Black Messiah highlights the complexity surrounding the lives of individuals. No character is reduced to a two-dimensional plot device for historical accuracy, nor are they turned into fearless heroes who did not have any worries or insecurities. The film reminds us of the world of pressure the Panthers were under as the FBI attempted to destroy everything they worked tirelessly for. The Panthers provided a sense of unity and solidarity that was desperately needed in a time of strife — as they placed the needs of the disenfranchised community above their own personal safety.