I live in a city with multiple bookstores. I even have a local bookstore within fifteen minutes walking distance. So I’m shocked that The Spy Behind Home Plate soundly trounced Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me, a two-hour documentary about the titular author. Most documentaries don’t draw large crowds, but the idea that a documentary about a literary giant could not attract more interest from one of the hotbeds of academia is appalling. To be fair, I’m drawing unscientific conclusions from the weekend showing that I went to, but I would be surprised if the number of occupied seats hit the double digits. Shame! Based on the size of the audience, I did not anticipate that it would last a second week, but it will.
The majority of Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me consists of interviews with Morrison, and anytime that she is on screen, whether in archival clips or interviews recorded solely for the purpose of this documentary, it is delightful and riveting. Morrison is one of those people that you would watch doing anything. If she were paint, you’d happily watch it dry and pay her for the privilege to do so. Her laughter is as life giving as the sun itself. She is a living, breathing Amazon, a powerful, statuesque woman and a general joy to behold. Every word that she utters is profound. God gave with both hands when she was born-brains and beauty.
How is Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me when Morrison is not on screen? It was far less compelling. I wish that Kate Novack, the director of The Gospel According to Andre, or Raoul Peck, the director of I Am Not Your Negro, directed this documentary. It feels as if Morrison’s life story and work has such potential to shine a light as a microcosm on the broader historical and cultural significance of our nation, especially now, and instead it was reduced to a slightly elevated human interest profile. It is a solid documentary, but it could have been transcendent, and it needed filmmakers that were as fearless and unflinching as Morrison to grapple with her life and her work. The documentary felt oddly thin. It feels like a missed opportunity, and I was slightly disappointed.
Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me’s narrative was roughly linear, but overall it could have been organized in a more orderly fashion. For example, early in the documentary, a Harvard professor relates a story to demonstrate her international appeal. This story, if included, should have immediately preceded the Nobel Prize story. Also there is a story about her father’s childhood that should have come earlier when discussing her family’s origins instead of immediately before she discussed his death. These little moments that either turn back the clock or act as a preview to a future development does not enhance the narrative and actually detracts from the organic momentum of her story.
Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me should not have assumed that everyone who saw this documentary is familiar with all her novels. Maybe a viewer is at the beginning of their journey or read some but not all. The documentary should have at least provided a synopsis of the book that it was about to focus on before discussing it. The casual allusions to Paradise would be lost on people who are more familiar with her earlier work. The documentary predominantly focuses on her first three books: The Bluest Eye, Sula and Song of Solomon. Also if you haven’t read Song of Solomon, then you better not mind spoilers because they discuss the ending.
Intellectually I understand that it is impossible for any movie or documentary to be comprehensive, but Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me leaves out parts of her life that I thought affected her deeply: the fire that destroyed a lot of her work, her marriage, being a professor. The answer could be that some topics were too personal and were marked as off limit, but she briefly discusses her teaching in a really understated way as if she is a schoolmarm when she is a professor at an Ivy League school. Come on! Just being a professor is a singular accomplishment for ordinary folks, but based on this documentary, I would conclude that for Morrison, it is a footnote, an afterthought. For real? People move to states that they would otherwise never set foot in for tenure at a less prestigious school.
Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me does a superb job of illustrating how as an editor, she also affected the cultural intellectual world behind the scenes and in the spotlight. The documentary felt divided between being intellectually rigorous and dishy though I did not think that the filmmakers had to choose, it was just half-hearted on either side, but it really missed an opportunity to fully embrace one side by delving more into the relationship between Morrison and the authors that she worked with. The film dips a cautious toe into her work with Muhammad Ali and embraces hearing from Angela Davis, but otherwise assumes that we know the other authors that it references and just uses a quick montage. I’d like to think that I am someone who at least makes an effort to be well read or at least know of the literary or intellectual giants that I’m neglecting, and I had no idea whom a lot of the people referenced were. A lot of these authors were black people so most of that work may be out of publication by the time many potential viewers such as myself hit the scene. Most of America’s promotional intellectual landscape is like Highlander-there can only be one black person on top, and if Morrison is it, then you have to really search for anyone else because they will be pushed off the stage. This dynamic also becomes a problem when the documentary attempts to provide context for the reception of Morrison’s novels by the literary community and how she was compared to very different authors such as Gayl Jones or Ishmael Reed. Um, who? Did anyone not involved in the making of this documentary watch it because I wanted at least a brief explanation of who these people are in the grander cultural landscape so I could understand the significance in relation to Morrison’s career.
It wasn’t like Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me was incredibly focused on its subject. It made time for detours that I felt were less germane to Morrison’s story. No disrespect intended to the erudite people who graciously gave their time to sing Morrison’s praises on screen, including Oprah Winfrey, but I did not come here for them. I think that it was a mistake, which obviously did not work, to try and have others talk about Morrison when the authority is available in perhaps a misguided effort to attract more viewers who are interested in, for example, Winfrey. I know that she is great. I came to learn more about Morrison and the quality of their interviews varied tremendously when it came to contributing something new about the author that I did not already know. Anyone that pulled focus from Morrison was merely a distraction. The documentary should have been shorter.
In spite of its flaws, if you love Morrison, I think that seeing Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me is worth seeing, but is sadly less urgently absorbing than its subject. The only reason that I would urge you to see it in theaters is so that future projects about similar figures get funding. Otherwise you can wait until it is available for home viewing.
