Now at Sundance: David Greaves’ ‘Once Upon a Time in Harlem’ Review

William Greaves, the late filmmaker who died in 2014, found much inspiration in his day, from the boxer Muhammad Ali in sports history. A fighter (1974) on Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle in an experimental meta-movie Symbiopsychotaxiplasm (1968). However, perhaps his most important work was the one he never decided how to finish, despite recording it in 1972. Now, after more than 50 years, his son David Greaves brings his father’s great work to a spectacular conclusion: an afternoon he spent photographing a gathering of more than a dozen Harlem Renaissance stars at the home of a jazzllington singer.

After introducing its posthumous concept (using letters and a recorded voice from the late maestro himself), Once upon a time in Harlem it moves quickly from the New York landmark to Ellington’s townhouse, where Greaves’ bright lights and 16mm cameras welcome various guests of honor. It’s a series of legendary killers: artists like Aaron Douglas, Romare Bearden, Richard Bruce Nugent and Ernest Crichlow; artists like Eubie Blake and Noble Sissle; theater professionals such as Leigh Whipper and Regina Andrews; photographer James Van Der Zee; Ida Mae Cullen, widow of poet Countee Cullen; and so on.

Each of them is introduced with a slug line of text that quickly disappears. There are so many pioneers that it’s hard to keep track as they pour into the party, but thankfully, their names and titles reappear on the screen almost every time they speak. They are defined, notably, not only by their chosen professions but also by their role in Black activism over the decades—for example, scholar and civil rights leader Richard B. Moore. Their work laid the groundwork for the Harlem Renaissance (the 1920s and 1930s, although some say it began earlier), and it belongs to a historical period when the visual, boundary-pushing art of African Americans was literally accompanied by political action.

Soon, the meeting flows into the circle of the living room, drink offerings firmly in hand (and after a while, a little stronger), marked by intelligent debates about the contemporaries of this group and its old leaders who have passed away (among them, the most controversial thought leaders like Marcus Garvey and WEB Du Bois). Through sit-down interviews, which serve as portraits of the state, Greaves allows each prominent predecessor their time and space before adjourning to group discussions. In many cases, with the help of editors Lynn True and Anne de Mare, David Greaves presents both types of literature—individual and collective—together, unlike his father’s early screen explorations.

The result is both endearing and evocative, as the film—a time capsule of a time capsule—gives these grown-up icons space to look back and reflect on key moments of cultural change, often in closing tearful eyes that gently express defiant rage. Their vivid memories of interactions with late heroes like sculptor Augusta Savage collide with intellectual debates about not only their ancestors’ careers, but—in funny, drunken moments—each other’s careers. The author of the Harlem Renaissance, Nathan Huggins, is considered a critical step because of his perceived analytical errors, but his answers are compelling.

From a superficial perspective, the film illuminates the often flat diversity within Black educational thought, itself a response to various forms of racial and financial inequality. However, Greaves’ methodical approach expands the intellectuality of the meeting in engaging ways, revealing the intimate passions and history of human encounters that not only drove this movement but still drives those who came after it. Some of these subjects last saw each other 50 years ago, and others have been in touch, but the intersection of their paths has woven a historical fabric that Greaves and his descendants have made films that they express in a strange, powerful way.

Vivid images from before and during the Harlem Renaissance, of the brutal crimes committed by Black bodies, and the young would-be freedom fighters watching the viewer in the previous century, are paired with poems narrated by people like Cullen and Langston Hughes. The mood of the era and the zeitgeist are given three-dimensional life through this artistic pairing, the act of caring for the film and its creators. Meanwhile, at the party, older members of the group, such as Whipper who was not at the time, recalled their childhood years during Reconstruction, their parents’ lives under slavery, and, in happy moments, the songs, poems and cinematic monologues they had learned and performed decades before.

That they remember this as if it were yesterday creates a tangible continuity throughout time—a bridge between the present, the past recorded by Greaves on celluloid, and the past remembered by the film’s participants, which appear as early black-and-white photographs or as oral recollections. This film reminds us that these seemingly distant events—the art movements that inspired the last century and the horrors that fueled them—are barely within living memory. It allows us to reach out and almost touch them.

That Once upon a time in Harlem it can ultimately be attributed to the tireless efforts of director David Greaves, his stepmother Louise Greaves (who died in 2023) and conservationist Bill Brand. However, William Greaves remains the creative force of the movie. Looking at it today, it’s hard to shake the feeling that he knew it would be a document of the past, some day in the future, a temporary relationship that informs his aesthetic approach.

The film may be erudite in nature, but its visual language is absurd. Greaves places his cameras, and thus places the audience, not away from these conversations, as mere spectators, but rather, within them as participants (similar to Mati Diop’s recent history of restoring African art. Dahomey). The fact that we can hear the voice of Greaves, and that we see his sound equipment from time to time, makes him more of a participant, especially in the moments when he comes out of the topics of the analytical debate and asks that the most respected keepers of the organization go deep into their pockets and pull out fun party tricks, in an unexpected way.

That we sit near the center table as the guests, usually at their level or below, puts us like children sitting at the feet of their grandparents, watching them tell childhood stories, eagerly awaiting the moments when they are suddenly filled with youthful enthusiasm while revealing the emotional, artistic and intellectual power we didn’t know they still had. There are few experiences in one’s early life that are constructive or motivating. Greaves ensures that his collection of engineering (and rigorous brainstorming) will touch the heart by documenting a bygone era of academia in the language of nostalgia.

No matter how far one goes from the Harlem Renaissance, Once upon a time in Harlem it transforms its cultural form into a personal memory, embedding history in greatness and reviving it from generation to generation.

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