| Since beginning my little research project on blaxploitation movies, I have really struggled. They were first created as a form of Black empowerment: Blacks demonstrating their talents as producers, directors, writers, and actors with a little bit of a slap in the face of white oppression. All of that is commendable. Yet, something went wrong along the way - the characters became more like caricatures and the white oppressive system’s pockets just got fatter. It took me about 6 weeks from the point of purchase to watch Dolemite. I was afraid to, actually reconsidering this path of exploration on which I had placed myself. Everything that I had heard about Rudy Ray Moore seemed in direct opposition to… well everything about me. And what do you know? I was not too far off base.
Dolemite is offered an early release from his prison stint, which is due to a frame-up by Willie Green, if he agrees to help bring down Green and some crooked cops. The former’s best pal, Queen Bee, has been working diligently for two years to help her friend gain release and get his club back. On the day of Dolemite’s release, she further demonstrates her friendship by having a horde of hot mama’s greet him. These really ugly women who could all pass for men are ready, willing, and very able to please Dolemite, witness him murder a few people on the side of the road, and even assist in cutting off a man’s penis (thankfully, we just get the gist and are spared the visual of the last act). All this happened within a couple of hours of his release. From there, it just gets more ridiculous. Dolemite models a sundry of colorful ensembles, while throwing around racial slurs and misogynistic remarks as well as snippets of his lyrical poems that made Rudy Ray Moore a “name” in the first place. So now Willie Green, who has taken over Dolemite’s club, some crooked, cocaine-snorting cops, and the mayor are all after this self-proclaimed “mack”. Of course, Dolemite is not worried because he and his ‘hos are apparently karate experts who can kick butt without even breaking a sweat or messing up their Afros. I searched for something redeeming, but failed to discover even a nugget. Nothing empowering. Nothing artistic. Just plain nothing. By the same token, I suppose I can understand why this could be a movie to watch if you are just hanging out with your girls or fellas looking for some kicks while knocking back swigs of Crown Royal or Alize. For most of us, it is a departure from our lives and if you can quell that nauseating, embarrassed feeling, perhaps you might even laugh.
After the movie -- which exhibited the worst acting and dialogue I have ever seen and heard – I watched the extras on the DVD. It seems that Rudy Ray inspired many actors and comedians including Paul Mooney, Ice T, and Eddie Griffin. Need I say more?
"You bring me these *#*#*# cotton draws! You know I don't wear no *#*#*# cotton draws!"
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