Regina King elevated above the typical, formulaic biopic in her portrayal of Shirley in the film review.

In general, the new Netflix movie “Shirley” about Shirley Chisholm, a groundbreaking politician and former presidential candidate, makes a valid point. Some aspects of the movie are not subtle. It begins by showing the House of Representatives in 1968, where out of the 435 members, only eleven were women and five were Black, with no Black women. This is highlighted even further by the official class portrait taken at the Capitol, where Shirley Chisholm (played by Regina King) is the only Black woman amidst a sea of older white men. Although the background of the Capitol may look digitally enhanced, the overall image effectively shows how Chisholm’s presence in a position of power was revolutionary and her battle was a difficult one.

This image is well-suited for Shirley, a film created by John Ridley, which provides insight into Chisholm’s underestimated importance as the first Black woman to run for president. Even though it blatantly tells the story of her history-making 1972 campaign, it also showcases her strength through dialogue. In the film, Shirley, with a light West Indian accent as portrayed accurately, stands up to an older white senator who mocks her for wanting equal pay. She also demands a better committee assignment from the House speaker when, as a freshman representative from Brooklyn, she is given a less desirable position in agriculture. Chisholm, formerly known as St Hill, was raised between the neighborhoods of Bed-Stuy and Barbados. However, the film only briefly and abruptly mentions her pre-politics background, leaving viewers to consult other sources, such as Wikipedia.

King conveys a strong sense of pride to Chisholm, who struggles with some difficult statements. The speaker warns Chisholm that she must conform or risk ruining her career before it even starts. Chisholm expresses her thoughts on the 1971 presidential candidates: they are all middle-aged white men. When her dedicated and weary advisors – experienced organizers Stanley Townsend and Wesley McDonald “Mac” Holder, and intern-turned-lawyer Robert Gottlieb – suggest tailoring her stance on controversial topics like abortion and bussing to suit different states, Chisholm refuses, insisting on including all nuances in her message.

Shirley’s preferred style is not quite nuanced, as she leans towards being explicit and emphasized instead. The reasoning behind Chisholm’s decision to run an unlikely campaign that is constantly dismissed is not fully highlighted, but rather she feels called to do so by her community and holds a belief in breaking barriers. In one instance, Shirley speaks to a disillusioned 25-year-old Black woman named Barbara Lee (played by Christina Jackson), who joins the campaign and eventually becomes a congresswoman from California. (The real Barbara Lee provides a touching ending to the film.) Although there are moments of skillful and artistic filmmaking, such as traumatic flashbacks to an assassination attempt and vibrant community montages, Ridley’s direction is overall straightforward and at times awkward.

In this film, the supporting characters who are typically portrayed as one-dimensional in male biopics are given more depth. Michael Cherrie portrays Conrad, who is aware of his role as Chisholm’s support in their unconventional marriage. Regina’s sister Reina King plays Chisholm’s sister Muriel St Hill, who quietly resents Chisholm’s political success. This dynamic deserved more screen time. Amirah Vann plays Diahann Carroll, who provides necessary exposition and brings 70s Hollywood glamour to the story. She helps connect Chisholm to an endorsement from Huey Newton and the Black Panthers in California. There is a hint of attraction between Chisholm and her advisor Arthur Hardwick Jr, played by Empire’s Terrence Howard. They eventually marry after Chisholm divorces Conrad in 1977.

Shirley’s dutiful presentation and sunny disposition, even in disappointment, betrayal and defeat, invoke Rustin, Netflix’s biopic starring Colman Domingo as civil rights activist Bayard Rustin, a political contemporary of Chisholm who, ever the pragmatist, appears in archival footage explaining why Black voters should not support Chisholm at the 1972 Democratic convention. Shirley is similarly focused on recovering and reteaching a legacy everyone ought to know.

However, by doing this, Shirley, as an individual, loses her identity and becomes a representation of composure and wisdom, exemplifying the potential of daring to dream. This sends a clear message but comes at the cost of diminishing her character. In contrast, in the exceptional 2020 limited series Mrs America, Uzo Aduba portrays a more confrontational, impatient, and captivating version of Chisholm, delving deeper into her complex and at times contentious relationship with the women’s liberation movement and its predominantly white leaders.

It must be acknowledged that Chisholm was frequently correct, specifically in terms of the actual policies. Shirley’s success serves as validation for her initial decision to run, which was heavily criticized at the time. This holds implications, both uplifting and disheartening, for future generations. The movie is just one of several attempting to portray oft-neglected but deserving figures through a formulaic biographical approach. While Shirley accomplishes its goal, I do wish it delved deeper into her multifaceted character.