BlacKkKlansman

BlacKkKlansman is a good, unruly crime comedy whose jokes are sharper than its suspense. Spike Lee takes the story of a Black policeman infiltrating the Ku Klux Klan and enjoys every opportunity to make the racists look foolish. He also wants their hatred to remain frightening, which is harder when they have just been so thoroughly embarrassed. For much of the film he manages both, helped by actors who find distinct people inside a premise that could easily have produced nothing but comic types.

John David Washington plays Ron Stallworth with a relaxed confidence that makes the initial deception feel possible without making it sensible. Adam Driver gives Flip Zimmerman a more watchful manner, fitting for the man who must attend the meetings while his colleague works the telephone. Their different ways of handling the risk provide much of the pleasure, and neither performance needs to compete for attention. We laughed at Ron’s telephone performance because the eagerness of the men listening makes his outrageous impersonation seem almost unnecessary.

Topher Grace is particularly good as David Duke, giving the racism a smooth, conversational delivery. His self-assurance is comic, but the lack of obvious strain in his manner makes the hatred harder to dismiss as the preserve of a few shouting fools. The performance is a useful corrective to the broader Klan caricatures around him. Those characters offer easier laughs, and their stupidity sometimes makes the undercover work seem less dangerous than the film needs it to be.

Chayse Irvin’s cinematography gives the Seventies setting a warmth that suits the comedy. Curt Beech’s production design keeps the police offices and Klan meeting rooms workaday, a useful decision when the temptation might have been to surround the villains with signs of villainy. Marci Rodgers’s costumes supply much of the swagger, and the actors look comfortable wearing them. The period detail is persuasive without making every scene an opportunity to point out the decade.

Terence Blanchard’s score brings a persistent sadness to the investigation, keeping the music from simply congratulating Ron on his nerve. It is a strong contribution, particularly when the comedy has made the operation look too easy. Barry Alexander Brown’s editing keeps the shared identity clear, but the passages between the main comic encounters can drift. At 136 minutes, the film has room for romance and political disagreement, though it sometimes repeats a point after the actors have already made it clear.

Laura Harrier gives Patrice Dumas a firmness that prevents her from becoming merely an admiring audience for Ron. Their disagreement about policing should be one of the film’s most difficult questions, and it is not always given enough space. The familiar undercover-film pleasures encourage us to cheer for a successful operation, while the treatment of racism inside the police demands a less comfortable response. The script recognises the problem, but too often lets Ron’s individual appeal stand in for an answer.

Expect a looser evening than the undercover premise suggests. The actors make the detours worthwhile, particularly when a conversation reveals how readily these men accept anyone who repeats their prejudices. Watch it for that sharpness, with some patience for the stretches when the investigation stops moving.