For every celebrated hero of the Civil Rights Movement, there’s a plethora of individuals whose contributions go unheralded and unknown to the masses. One such individual is the late civil rights activist Bayard Rustin.
His name should be as synonymous with American history as the Movement’s well-known figures, but others reveled in the fruits and glory of his work while he remained in the shadows. Netflix’s Rustin aims to give his life and achievements their proper place in history and the hearts and minds of the masses.
Rustin stars Colman Domingo as the titular subject and focuses on his journey toward building one of the most significant moments in our nation’s story and beyond. What does Rustin offer beyond just another biopic by bringing this unfairly hidden figure to life? It pulls off the dual victory of giving both Rustin and the man who portrays him the flowers and stage both have long deserved.
Domingo proves he’s no longer solely a scene stealer – he is the scene. Always one to stand on business in every role, Domingo makes his mark as a first-time leading man with the same star quality as his supporting turns.
He doesn’t simply show up and give a mimicking composite of who Wikipedia says Rustin was. Domingo deftly takes you through the innate complexities and intersections of being the then-illegal and (still) unwelcomed quintet of outspoken, intelligent, determined, openly gay, and Black in America. It’s the type of dynamic performance that makes it clear higher powers meant for Domingo to have this role.
The supporting cast is no slouch, either. Glynn Turman, Aml Ameen, and Adrienne Warren are just a few of the names that keep Rustin from being a solo act, but Jeffrey Wright's performance is exceptional. Wright’s turn as Congressman Adam Clayton is almost on par with Domingo’s, with only a lack of screen time for Wright separating them.
Branford Marsalis’s score is another win for Rustin. Whether it’s the frantic pace at which Rustin uses his organizing skills, one of his romantic encounters, or a moment of self-reflection, Marsalis hits the right notes to enhance each scene.
Despite all it has going its way, Rustin never quite reaches what it could be. As masterful as director George C. Wolfe moved the film adaptation of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, it seems that steady hand is missing in Rustin. He covers a lot in the 106-minute runtime, but it’s extremely rushed and only touches where it should have dug in.
The script is also a culprit in undermining Rustin’s potential. It has biting and memorable dialogue that’s perfect for the charismatic and compelling talents reeling it off. The problem comes in the handling of Rustin’s affairs and courtships. It’s written in a way that makes him predatory, which plays to the horrible trope of gay men and women being horny hunters of anything with a hole.
While it’s understood Rustin may have been far from a prude, it doesn’t make sense to skip taking the time to humanize this aspect of his life. The intersection of his work and love life is the last thing you gloss over because of how it led to the lack of respect many gave his life and accomplishments.
It doesn’t cover every single or even important detail of his life and almost self-sabotages by going the salacious route with his private life. Still, it’s hard not to appreciate what Rustin brings to the table thanks to its star, like the man he portrayed, has been in the background for far too long.