Directing: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+

Sam Pollard’s MLK/FBI is a fascinating specimen of documentary filmmaking, in terms of its own inevitable biases, and the myth of objectivity. These are ideas that can be applied to any documentary film, of course, but it seems a surprise to me how much it could be argued that the FBI is let off the hook here.

He is only heard a few times, but one of the interview subjects is former Director of the FBI James Comey, who is heard multiple times referring to the period of the FBI’s well-documented surveillance of Martin Luther King Jr. as '“the darkest period” of the FBI’s history. Never mind that this is the man who arguably cost Hillary Clinton the 2016 presidential election by pointlessly announcing the reopening of the email investigation only two weeks before the election—a detail understandably left out of this film for lack of relevance there, but it still undermines his credibility as any spokesman for when the FBI’s history might be tainted. In the long history of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation, both that and the surveillance of King are but two examples among countless examples of the FBI’s “dark history.” This isn’t even a matter much up for debate, and yet MLK/FBI entirely sidesteps the other historical atrocities the FBI has committed, thus barely falling short of making the case on its own, that the 1950s and 1960s were the worst times for the FBI.

We also get multiple instances of interview subjects referring to how differently Martin Luther King looked “from the FBI’s point of view.” It skirts very oddly close to empathy for this organization, although to be fair the film is far more interested in the point of view of King himself. It’s just that the pains the film takes to view the FBI itself objectively are strained, and fruitless: the FBI was (and possibly still is) very much the bad guy here, and this film would have been improved by characterizing it as such.

That is really my only true criticism of MLK/FBI, though I would contend it to be a notable one. This film is otherwise a deeply compelling and provocative look at one of the most significant American leaders of the past century, aided in large part by certain cinematic choices and subtle artistic flourishes. The entire film is presented in black and white, almost exclusively of archival footage as the interview subjects’ commentary runs over it. The names of the people speaking appear onscreen to identify them, but none of the subjects are seen until the end credits begin, and even then only briefly. Even those clips are in black and white, a choice that makes sense given that the vast majority of the imagery we are used to from King’s time is in black and white.

A great deal of attention is paid to what here the film refers to benignly as King’s “non-monogamy.” One thing MLK/FBI is very successful at is re-contextualizing this well-documented element of Martin Luther Ling Jr.’s personal and private life, which was quite literally recorded by the FBI via wiretaps and bugs in his home and in hotel rooms. The lengths to which the FBI went, the amount of time it spent in efforts to discredit him as this amoral hypocrite, is not a matter of rumor but of documented historical fact. What is less clear is how his wife, Coretta Scott King, felt about it. It’s notable that this film looks upon King’s many sexual dalliances—a host of which was edited together onto a tape and sent to King, his wife. and others close to him—with a completely neutral eye; even I can remember being told years ago about how Martin Luther King wasn’t a complete saint, “he was a womanizer.” But viewed from the lens of the 2020s, how much do we know about whether that couple simply had some kind of understanding? More importantly, how is it anyone’s business but there’s?

In hindsight, J. Edgar Hoover’s obsession with “revealing” Martin Luther King as “the most notorious liar in the country” (a direct quote which made many headlines) is just another example of misplaced moral superiority, never mind the clear racism that motivated all fervent opposition to King. But this opposition bled over into those who would otherwise be his allies, as even other civil rights leaders spoke out against him when, only a year before his death, King dared to speak out against the Vietnam War as a clear double standard in American foreign policy. His work at the end of his life focusing on poverty in America is unfortunately not what he is most remembered for, but perhaps it should be.

Near the end of MLK/FBI, which is available to stream on VOD for $6.99 (well worth the price), the original footage is shown of Martin Luther King saying, “When white Americans tell the Negro to lift himself up by his bootstraps, they don’t look over the legacy of slavery and segregation. Now, I believe we ought to do all we can and seek to lift ourselves by our own bootstraps. It’s all right to tell a man to lift himself up by his bootstraps, but it is cruel jest to say to a bootless man that he ought to lift himself up by his bootstraps.” This cuts to the heart of King’s aim to end poverty, and how deeply racism, white supremacy, and Black poverty are linked. This is what the U.S. government did not want to be held accountable for then—nor does it now, fully half a century later—and is the very reason the FBI sought to vilify him. MLK/FBI illustrates how successful they were in that endeavor in his time, making him far more controversial than current depictions would make him seem. But, at least, in the long run it was a PR battle that the FBI lost.

*Nothing can make even a complicated man less of an icon once he is an icon.*

Overall: B+