The film is stunningly photographed by Ernest Dickerson, and the costume and set design (Wynn Thomas) play strong supporting roles. Mo' Better Blues is, without a doubt, beautiful to look at. The film's music score, written by Bill Lee, the filmmaker's father and a jazz musician himself, is strong, with both the title track and "Harlem Blues," sung by newcomer Williams, deserving special credit.
The acting, under Lee's capable direction, is strictly first-rate. Denzel Washington's performance is nothing short of tremendous. Washington portrays the various aspects of Gilliam's life--the arrogance, the defermination, the hopelessness--with convincing power and emotion. Even the difficult onstage scenes and trumpet close-ups seem natural enough. Another Oscar nomination, this time for best actor, should be in the offing.
Wesley Snipes also turns in a strong performance as the competitive and ambitious Shadow. His fine portrayal is certainly aided by the fact that his character is the most believable. Giancarlo Esposito, who plays the quintet's flashy pianist, deserves mention as well. Nothing ill can be said of the remainder of the cast, who do not disappoint.
What is at times disappointing is Lee's script. At some points, Lee's writing shines. Particularly noteworthy are the exchanges which go on between the band members backstage, in practice, and at parties. There, Lee's wit comes through in humorous and insightful glimpses into the machoism of contemporary Black males. Lee's scripting of the female characters is considerably weaker. Their personalitites are a bit flat, if not stereotypical, and their dialogue, far from natural and convincing, consists of contrived speeches which Lee lazily uses to move the plot along.
Similarly, Lee's use of metaphor, so effective in School Daze and Do the Right Thing, is very uneven. On one level, Lee rises to his previous standard in his attempts to discuss the exploitation of Black jazz musician by white businessmen. Both the characters of Indigo and Gilliam's mother are endorsements of the role of the Black women in American history. It has been universally acknowledged that the Black woman has played a stronger role in supporting Afro-American society than the Black male has. And Lee's pro-family theme is particularly relevant to Black society in times where more than two-thirds of all Black children are born into single parent households.
These metaphors, however, have their weaker, and sometimes uglier sides. The themes concerning Black society come across as sappy, too typically Hollywood. No doubt, Lee could have found more powerful ways to convey his message. But especially disconcerting is Lee's scripting of the two Jewish night-club owners who refuse to give Gilliam's group their fair share of the lucrative profits. The two characters are viciously stereotypical, bordering on the unacceptably offensive. They appear saddeningly hypocritical in light of Lee's protests against the stereotyping of Blacks in American films and society.
Mo' Better Blues is not the typical jazz film; it does not attempt to glorify the individual achievement of some famous musician. Neither is the film a particularly strong statement about the relationship between Black and (mainstream) American society. So what is Mo' Better Blues about? In one sense, it is certainly about the powerful function of the family in modern human society. In another, it is a film based on a tried and true Hollywood formula.
But at the considerable risk of armchair psychoanylizing, I venture that that is not all this film is about. Mo' Better Blues has a strong autobiographical quality about it. I suspect that, together, Gilliam, the driven artist, and Giant, the pawn of economic forces--noticably non-Black--represent Lee himself. In light of Lee's previous praise of his own close family and his equally strong condemnation of a film industry he has found to be exploitive and racist, some of Mo' Better Blues's themes take on new meaning.
Mo' Better Blues is an intensly personal film; a film that has more in common with his first work, the Woody Allen-esque She's Gotta Have It, than with his two later, more overtly political works. This, taken with the film's use of Hollywood cliches and Lee's self proclaimed radicalism, is what gives Mo' Better Blues the self-indugent hypocritical air I spoke of eariler. Yet despite the uneveness of the script, solid performances (especially Washington's), lush visuals, a sensuous music score and Lee's subtle wit, easily elavate Mo' Better Blues into the class of strong, if not great, films. Lee's standards are very hard to live up to, even by the controversial filmmaker himself.