cliché musings

The biography and biopic both have an important role in cementing a legacy, with the author and director’s intentions shaping how the world will see a figure in cinema and literature. For a powerful historical persona like Malcolm X, his autobiography, collaborated with Alex Haley and published in 1965, and biopic, directed by Spike Lee and released in 1992, are works that are left with the task of finalizing his influence on the black Islam state and black liberation movement. Alex Haley’s autobiography was never meant to be finished when it was, cut off by Malcolm’s untimely assassination on May 19, 1965, and as such the autobiography became an ironic foreshadowing and timeline of Malcolm’s demise, leaving Haley constructing the last chapter, the Epilogue, around his memorialization from both Haley’s and the world’s eyes. Spike Lee’s adaptation, Malcolm X, attempts to condense his life into a story that leads up to the moment he is killed, taking liberties that focus on foreshadowing, character development, and a modern reflection on Malcolm’s influence. The adaptation of Malcolm’s autobiography fulfills the audience’s expectation of a fully-fleshed character arc in a film, both adapting Haley’s work and Malcolm’s life in order to give Malcolm a stronger impact on black civil rights and black memory than may have been true in real life.

In the creation of The Autobiography of Malcolm X, a series of interviews were conducted by Alex Haley with Malcolm X, and then constructed into a chronological order and personal narrative of Malcolm’s life. It would only be fair to assume Haley took creative liberties with the narrative, formatting it to be more stylistic and engaging than Malcolm may have narrated himself, and establishing clear transitional moments between chapters that echoed progression in Malcolm’s life but may not have been so obvious in the moment. The autobiography itself is an adaptation of Malcolm’s life, one that strives to be as faithful as possible, but, of course, would have to limit and reshape its content for the purpose of a story. Lee’s film is an adaptation of an adaptation, forced to an even shorter runtime than the book and ultimately affected by the decades difference in between their creation. By the 90s, greater emphasis would be placed on Civil Rights leaders like Malcolm X who were largely dismissed by the white media and narrative during their time (even Martin Luther King, Jr. was an enemy of the United States government and hated by many white Americans), so Lee’s personal inspiration of a figure like Malcolm X would most likely shine through his biopic film, placing the perspective of Malcolm in the film on a higher pedestal than he would have gotten in the 60s.

Due to Malcolm’s assassination, both Haley’s “Epilogue” chapter and Lee’s last twenty or so minutes of the film are not adaptations of Malcolm X’s words. The Epilogue is a posthumous account of what occurred when Malcolm was killed, based on other interviews Haley conducts with people who were there, and then a slow ride through events that occurred afterwards, particularly the media coverage, the response of Malcolm’s family and the Brotherhood, and Haley’s experience at the viewing of Malcolm’s body. Haley remarks, “It was late during this Friday afternoon that I got into the quietly moving line, thinking about the Malcolm X with whom I had worked closely for about two years… Within minutes I had reached the coffin… Malcolm looked to me—just waxy and dead… I thought, ‘Well—good-bye.’ I moved on” (459). Haley appears to emphasize the quickness of which Malcolm was taken from  his life and the overall underwhelming-ness that viewing his body, void of life and soul, was to him. The dead Malcolm X could never compare to the one that was alive and Haley, as someone who knew him personally, is able to highlight that the memorial services were inefficient in capturing the impact he would have had as a walking, talking man. Particularly, his death would have been a disservice, not an act that would construct him into a worldwide martyr, and the line to view his body is almost a symbol of moving on from his death after being allowed to pay respects.

The last line of the autobiography, “I tried to be a dispassionate chronicler. But he was the most electric personality I have ever met, and I still can’t quite conceive him dead. It still feels to me as if he has just gone into some next chapter, to be written by historians” (463), is Haley’s admittance that he doesn’t feel he’s done Malcolm justice. He’s incapable of writing about him dead and thinks that job has to be left to the people that are trained to do so, rather than Haley’s journalist and one-on-one background.  The autobiography, as a kind of adaptation, is limited in its extent of portraying Malcolm as he actually was, his death becoming a literal nail in the coffin to Haley’s ability to exhibit him accurately. Haley is honest; the story isn’t complete until we know what Malcolm’s impact on history will become. In the autobiography, Haley wraps up the story of Malcolm X as much as he can, not based on Malcolm’s perspective but by those he impacted around him, sending off his vision of Malcolm with a final testament to his name based on Haley’s experience in 1965. 

Interestingly, Lee’s biopic does not include Haley in the narrative at all. Malcolm, played by Denzel Washington, narrates most of the film in a similar way that Malcolm’s voice narrates the autobiography, but Haley never appears in the film (even though we know Malcolm was partaking in these interviews in the years leading up to his death) and the ending of the film is a montage of other black leaders giving their praises to Malcolm: a clip is shown of Martin Luther King speaking to the press about the tragic news of Malcolm’s death, Ossie Davis speaks at the funeral, and then the film cuts to black school kids around the world standing up from their desk and proclaiming that they are “Malcolm X.” Nelson Mandela appears in these final moments as a teacher, reciting one of Malcolm’s speeches to the kids. While Haley’s Epilogue is a production of Malcolm’s time and focuses on how Haley saw Malcolm’s impact play out after his death, Lee’s ending is a visual representation of Malcolm’s legacy on black liberation. Despite the opposing viewpoints between King and Malcolm, King still gives Malcolm his credit for bringing together black communities in the name of liberation. The school kids and Mandela emphasize the continuing influence Malcolm has left behind; future generations will embody the spirit of Malcolm X and strive to free black people from racist binds (like apartheid in South Africa, in the midst of breaking down when Malcolm X was released).

A crucial criticism of the film may be its strict following to the autobiography and Lee’s taking of the book as complete fact. In “Bringing Malcolm X to Hollywood,” Brian Norman argues that the Lee version of the film falls victim to teleology, chronicling the events of the book as fixed precursors to Malcolm’s death and painting Malcolm as a superhuman figure in black history. He writes, “Lee’s documentary techniques exacerbate Painter’s concern, such as splicing in footage of Martin Luther King and manufacturing black-and-white shots with present-day actors. In the end, Painter suggests that the film is more of a reflection of 1992 than a historical document” (7-8). While Haley’s structure of the autobiography has an ominous lead-up to Malcolm’s death, knowing it is an historical account that took place before he even died reminds us that it’s purely accidental that Malcolm’s involvement with the black Nation of Islam and his following breakage from the group (after a period of reflection and growth stemming from his pilgrimage to Mecca) caused his death; the cards did not have to fall the way they did if different events had occurred. Lee’s interpretation of the book and the expected storyline a biopic should follow have these events serving as foreshadowing and pieces to a plot with a natural ending, rather than Malcolm’s death as an unfortunate circumstance, allowing for Malcolm’s legacy to surface as a triumphant idol in 1992. It seems, to Lee, that even the making of the autobiography is some kind of necessary step before the film could be made and showcase the persistent viewpoint of Malcolm X in modern day ideology, despite Haley not being aware of Malcolm’s looming death, a potential film, or if he’d remain in history at the start of writing. 

The slight changes that have been made to the film and not direct adaptations of the autobiography even appear to highlight Lee’s insistence on a chronological and cause-and-effect order of events. The climax of the film is the intense and deeply harrowing scene at the Audubon Ballroom. Malcolm’s death here is repeatedly foreshadowed earlier in the film; the phone calls and death threats, the cars that drive past his own car and look over into his window, the tight hug between him and one of his brothers, and the building of time it takes before Malcolm actually stands behind the podium for his speech. Lee seems to lean into the audience’s awareness that Malcolm is about to die; Malcolm, in the film, is aware of this, too. He knows it’s suicide to step into the ballroom while his calls are being monitored, his house was bombed, and he’s being followed by members of the Brotherhood, yet, for his love of speech and Islam, he decides to step on the stage, anyway.

“Get your hand out of my pocket!” one of the assassin plotters screams (3:04:31), then walks away. The exact line was said earlier at another one of Malcolm’s press conferences, another foreshadowing event, hinting that Malcolm and the audience know what is to come. Something is thrown on the floor, smoke filling the rows, and people in the ballroom disperse in confusion and terror. There is plenty of time for Malcolm to escape, to duck, to run, from the moment the man yells, but he chooses not to. “Brothers, please. Hold it,” he says (3:04:40) instead, almost in a resigned tone. “Calm down. Please, brothers, brothers.” He watches the man with the gun walk up to the stage and shoot him, somewhere in his side. The others come with more guns, shooting him repeatedly, ensuring there’s no possible way to survive the assassination.

The scene resembles earlier in the film when Malcolm and Sophia are watching a Billie Holiday concert, and West Indian Archie comes to sit with them. He calls Malcolm a liar, because the bet he supposedly placed is not in the records. He’s stolen money from Archie and could have ruined his reputation as an elite gambler. Malcolm has already received a death threat from one of Archie’s goons, and knows that if Archie doesn’t have his reputation, he has nothing. Malcolm tries to protect himself: he is also carrying a gun, which Archie would know. “There’s three guns on you, so you take your chances, my friend,” Archie says. Malcolm slowly looks around the concert room, and two guys stand on opposite corners, revealing the guns hidden in their coat pockets. “Let’s walk,” Archie demands, and Malcolm follows him outside. He makes a run for it in a split second, knocking over a waiter and sprinting down the hallway. The run is what seemingly saves his life. He’s faster than all three of them, and manages to jump out of the bathroom window and escape to an alley, safe under the cover of darkness.

In Lee’s final scene with Malcolm, Malcolm does not move at all, even when he faces the barrel of the gun. Malcolm has preached about the importance of carrying guns for protection against white people, but has not taken one here, or has not chosen to pull it out even when he’s aware of danger. Lee is emphasizing character development and the sense of a full-circle arc; despite Malcolm’s preaching of protecting themselves against white people, a separationist ideology, and a criticism of policies like Martin Luther King’s that advocate never to be violent, Malcolm has chosen the non-violent approach, accepting his death and not running, even if it might save his life. He stands tall and strong in the face of an enemy, not giving up on his commitment to give a speech to his fellow Muslim brethern. However, even if he knew what was about to happen, the spectators certainly didn’t. The screams of confusion, particularly the cut to a terrifying yell from his wife Betty (Angela Bassett) after he’s shot, emphasize that the air in the ballroom would have no suspicion something terrible was about to happen. Lee chooses to center the climax of the film around Malcolm’s own acceptance of his death and his self-reflection, even if the others around him weren’t aware of it, almost as if his path to peace and end of fighting are meant to be a surprise to them all, too.

Haley’s version of the assassination reports a different scene. He writes, “With his own attention distracted, it is possible he never saw the gunman… Numerous persons later said they saw two men rushing toward the stage, one with a shotgun, the other with two revolvers” (442). Lee directly contradicted Haley’s words with his scene, where the cuts between Malcolm and the shooter clearly show that Malcolm was watching him come up to the stage and saw him before he fired. It was only one shooter in Malcolm’s vision. The others came up after the first shot. Based on Haley’s own interviews and conclusion of the assassination, it does not seem like Malcolm had accepted a death so much as he didn’t know when it was coming. He couldn’t pull a gun first if he had no idea there were guns on him. Realistically, if the actions had happened over a few seconds, even Malcolm’s experience with hustling and preparation for getting shot would not be enough to help him realize that an assassination attempt was happening before it did. As Haley said, the confusion and chaos would have been enough of a distraction. Lee’s version, though, gives a much more satisfying conclusion to something that would be inevitable in any adaptation of Malcolm’s life. If Malcolm himself chose to die in that moment, rather than being overwhelmed with gunmen and an inventive assassination plot, Malcolm has shown agency in the way that he’s died, maybe even choosing his position as a future martyr, as Lee will show to happen.

While Haley’s autobiography is an account planned and written before Malcolm’s death and is not meant to predict that any such thing would happen, Lee’s film intends to tell a manageable storyline, with Malcolm’s life events as precursors to his death and foreshadowing  his legacy as a black Civil Rights leader. Lee’s film could be criticized for his adherence to events leading to a mythologized version of Malcolm X in present-day perspectives instead of experimenting with chronological order, but it also can be said that Lee is giving what an audience expects, allowing Malcolm’s story to be finished in memory when in reality, his life, visions, and goals were cut short. Haley emphasizes that a dead Malcolm is not the same as an alive one, but Lee says his death was not a deterrent to Malcolm’s legacy; in fact, Lee is essentially pointing to Malcolm’s death as a reason for his idol status and why such a movie would be made about him in the first place.

Works Cited

Lee, S. (Director). 1992, November 18. Malcolm X.

Little, M., & Haley, A. 1999. The Autobiography of Malcolm X. New York: Ballantine Books.Norman, B, 2010. “Bringing Malcolm X to Hollywood,” The Cambridge Companion to Malcolm X, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.