“A spellbinding historical document that brings together some of the greatest minds of their generation”

You cannot speak about independent cinema without mentioning William Greaves, who is often cited as one of the pioneers of an entire style of American filmmaking and someone whose influence is still felt today. He left behind an extraordinary legacy, having developed nearly two dozen projects throughout his lifetime. Many of these are considered unimpeachable classics of both film and television, such as Symbiopsychotaxiplasm and Still a Brother, both incredibly influential experimental works that still manage to resonate for their innovation and depth to this day. However, even a decade after his death, he still proves to be an essential voice in cinema with the arrival of Once Upon a Time in Harlem, a film he began making in 1972, and on which he was still working when he died in 2014. The premise was simple – the director was hosting a party at the home of jazz innovator Duke Ellington (who is surprisingly not present in the film) in Harlem, and dozens of visionaries, revolutionaries and historical icons (most of whom were present during the celebrated Harlem Renaissance) such as Ernest Crichlow, Leigh Whipper, Gerri Major and countless others found themselves crossing over his threshold, spending a few hours deep in discussion with peers, colleagues and heroes that they had not seen in decades. Greaves ultimately left the project unfinished but far from abandoned, as it was tenderly handed over to his son David (a strong filmmaker in his own right). He spent the last few years delicately editing the raw footage captured by his father together into a spellbinding historical document that brings together some of the greatest minds of their generation, allowing them to tell their story, and by extension laying down their version of American history.

Something that we learn immediately when entering into Once Upon a Time in Harlem is that the most astonishing historical odysseys are not those that take place on battlefields or ancient landscapes, but rather in a relatively quaint urban living room. Context is naturally important, and the history of Harlem is clearly and definitively outlined by the subjects themselves when they all collectively summarise it as the single-most influential epicentre of African-American artistry in the United States (or at least one of the most important); the proverbial Holy Land in which countless black artists found their voices and laid down the essential works that came to be known as the Harlem Renaissance, the period between the early 1900s and 1930s (the precise boundaries are even debated by the figures in this film). Art, literature, music, photography, cinema and just about every other form of artistic expression found its voice within the African-American community in New York City.  Even those who are familiar with the period will likely find something entirely new in this film, since there are some insights gleaned here through scintillating, complex conversations that even the most knowledgeable of academics may not have come across. Greaves assembles a rogue’s gallery of some of the most influential artists of the 20^th century, people who not only excelled in their chosen fields but outright defined them, creating entire artistic movements to which much of contemporary culture still owes an enormous debt.

Over the course of what must have felt like the swiftest four hours in history, Greaves arms himself with his camera and microphone and blends into the background, capturing the candid conversations between old friends who come together under the guise of a casual party, but end up reigniting the fiery discussions on which their entire movement was constructed. It ultimately becomes very clear that Greaves was not interested in a didactic, play-by-play account of the Harlem Renaissance, since there have been more than enough essential texts on the period that take a more academic approach. His interest lay in giving a voice to the people who were there, witnessing the period unfold, as well as playing a vital part in its development. It seemed that the most appropriate way to explore the subject was not to conduct solely one-on-one interviews (which are part of the film, but merely additional to the footage shot at the party, the main propellant of the project) that placed its subject on pedestals as untouchable remnants of the past, but rather to capture them in their natural state, engaged in passionate conversation and lively debate with their peers. It is through this that we not only glean valuable insights into the history of the era but also interpretations into how society has subsequently changed in the years since, as a result of events such as the Second World War and the peak of the Civil Rights Movement. Suddenly, these are no longer just stalwarts of history, but active participants in the debate between the past and present.

Some of the subjects here are well into their nineties, and are even noted as being the children of slaves and first-generation immigrants, the true founders of modern America. The historical tensions simmering beneath the surface eventually do surface once the excited pleasantries and reintroductions cease, replaced with a series of passionate, engaging conversations between old friends reuniting after (in some cases) half a century.  The core question is posed early in the film to George Schuyler (a celebrated writer and journalist), who says he’d not describe the events as purely a renaissance, but also a reawakening; the act of these people becoming aware of their responsibilities as artists,  not only to make the world a more beautiful place, but also to capture reality as it was at the time. Greaves’ approach is similar, with Once Upon a Time in Harlem being more observational than it is discursive or persuasive – the subjects speak for themselves, paying tribute to the people who forged a path for him and his peers by giving them the chance to tell the stories themselves, surrounded by their peers. There is minimal interference from the director, except for the occasional question or comment in response, gently guiding the discussion to make it even richer. The editing (mostly done by the younger Greaves) is equally as subtle, with the use of archival footage and photographs supplementing what is being shown on screen. There is something so powerful about the juxtaposition of images of these people in their prime in the 1920s or 1930s, with the footage shot by the director – their bodies may be frail, and their faces aged by the passage of time, but their voices still resound with the same timbrous passion and interminable defiance of the status quo that motivated their history-defining movement.

There are many ways to distinguish a good documentary from a great one – editing, subject matter and viewer engagement are all relatively strong metrics. However, what sets them apart is a truly exceptional piece of non-fiction filmmaking that not only leaves the viewer informed, but also invigorated enough on the subject that we cannot wait to leap into the topic ourselves, researching the people and events depicted. Once Upon a Time in Harlem is a perfect example of this in practice. It is by no means exhaustive or definitive – it would frankly be impossible to provide thorough histories on the dozens of people that either appear in this film or are mentioned, since they all made such astonishing contributions that could never be reduced to a single collective work. Instead, the Greaveses compel the audience to get acquainted with these people, all of whom are long deceased yet still live on through their work, as well as this film, which is as respectful and captivating a memorial as any of them could have hoped to receive. An entire documentary could be made on any of these people (and there certainly have been a few), but there is something far more intriguing about a film that doesn’t look at them in isolation, but rather considers them as part of a larger collective, and results in perhaps the most accurate portrayal of the Harlem Renaissance and its legacy that one could imagine.