With Rustin now on Netflix, cinephiles worldwide can enjoy one of the season's top Best Actor contenders. However, one shouldn't presume there's no more to George C. Wolfe's picture than Colman Domingo's spirited turn. Indeed, there's a vast pool of brilliant Black actors around him, breathing life into civil rights icons left and right. Among them, Broadway's First Lady and Tony champion Supreme stands out, the one and only Audra McDonald as Ella Baker. She's only in a couple of scenes but leaves a lasting impression, embodying strength and conveying a rich history between the activists that goes beyond the narrative's limited scope.
As of late, that's McDonald's big screen specialty, serving excellence for a scene or two, and then – poof – she's gone. Just look at her other 2023 movies…
Before Rustin, there was Down Low, Rightor Doyle's riotous comedy, where Luke Gage is a chaotic gay guide to Zachary Quinto's first Grindr hookup. Only, instead of the little death, the encounter ends on the big one, leaving the two men with a corpse to contend with. McDonald's presence is hinted at before she materializes, manifesting in a huge painting and passive-aggressive missives. When she finally shows up, nothing can prepare the viewer for the tonal disruption that comes along. In Widow's Weeds, Audra McDonald vibrates with hostile grief, still reeling from how her wifely love curdled into something ugly long before the story started.
What's most impressive, still, is how the thespian negotiates the contradictions in the material, how she's both speaking her truth and dripping with hate. The text is played with straightforward emotion and no concession to an actor's judgment on their role, righteousness exuding from every pore. For a second, we're even seduced into agreeing with her words. Or, at least, we believe the film is convinced, the characters browbeaten by one hell of a barn-burning monologue. Such is her power that you can't help but imagine McDonald on stage, magnetizing every spectator with masterful delivery, masterpiece presence.
Finally, she also has a role in Ava DuVernay's Origin, one of many single-scene stars peppered throughout the literary adaptation. As a woman recalling childhood traumas, McDonald is asked to sustain a prolonged sequence wavering between tight close-up and flashback, voice ever-present even when the face gets lost in the edit. It's spellbinding stuff, maybe the actress' best big-screen turn, and another reminder of what cinema's missing by not having more of McDonald. Her commitment to the stage is understandable, as is the more regular TV work, but, as a cinephile who can't afford to travel to watch her live, I wish she made more movies.
Am I alone in this sentiment? Would you want Audra McDonald to become a big-screen star, or are these one-scene wonders enough?