If you're looking for a crash course in one of
the most potent, really painful and, you know,
surprisingly current pieces of American history,
a story about charisma, power, and ultimately
betrayal, then you are definitely in the right
place. Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Hey there.
Yeah, today we're sort of peeling back the layers
on the 2021 biographical historical drama, Judas
and the Black Messiah. And our source material
is, well... It's pretty exhaustive. We're covering
everything from the precise devastating timeline
of events in late 1960s Chicago. Right. All the
way through to the incredible kind of logistical
and creative journey the film took. Took six
years. you know, to get it to the screen. Six
years. Wow. And our mission today, it's more
than just like summarizing the plot. We really
want to unpack the film's narrative core. You
know, the FBI's systematic elimination of Fred
Hampton, but also give you that insider perspective
on its production, its massive critical and awards
reception, and maybe the most fascinating part,
the completely unexpected background of the screenwriters
who actually engineered this historical tragedy.
It's quite a story behind the story. It really
is. And the title itself, Judas. and the Black
Messiah. It just lays the foundation, doesn't
it? Right away, it signals that central conflict.
It's the story of Fred Hampton, played brilliantly
by Daniel Kaluuya. Oh, fantastic performance.
Incredible. The dynamic 21 -year -old chairman
of the Illinois Black Panther Party. And the
film forces us, really, to witness his rapid
rise and his tragic downfall through the eyes
of his betrayer, William O 'Neill. Lakeith Stanfield.
Played by Lakeith Stanfield, yeah. The FBI informant
whose cooperation, whose information directly
led to Hampton's assassination. And driving this
whole thing, this urgent piece of cinema, is
the director and producer Shaka King. who not
only wrestled this incredibly complex material
into a compelling narrative, but made sure it
felt grounded, grounded in this authentic, almost
painful reality. Yeah, and to really get the
tragedy, you first have to understand the mechanism
of the betrayal. How did it even start? And that
begins with William O 'Neill. He wasn't like
some disgruntled ideological opponent. He was,
as you said, the Judas figure. But his involvement
started with something remarkably small, almost
foolish, really. petty crime. It's just the perfect
tragic irony, isn't it? That the FBI found its
ultimate tool of destruction through this low
-level opportunistic offense. O 'Neal was just
19, a kid basically, a petty criminal in Chicago.
And the key detail, according to the sources,
is he gets arrested for trying to steal a car.
Okay, fine. But he tried to do it while posing
as a federal officer, flashing a fake badge.
That detail is crucial. That act of impersonation,
that kind of desperate move, that's what gave
the FBI the... perfect leverage. It handed it
to them on a plate almost. It really did. It's
like a textbook case of federal coercion. FBI
Special Agent Roy Mitchell, Jesse Plemons plays
him. Just brilliantly unsettling. He didn't need
to, you know, win O 'Neill over ideologically.
Didn't have to convince him the Panthers were
bad. He just presented this non -negotiable ultimatum.
Look, all the charges from the attempted car
theft, the impersonation, all of it dropped.
You walk free. If you agree to infiltrate the
Illinois Black Panther Party, get inside. Gather
detailed intelligence specifically on Fred Hampton.
Mitchell just targeted his immediate self -interest,
you know. Trapped him. So O 'Neill is now inside
the organization. He takes the deal. But then
he's immediately confronted by the sheer just
overwhelming power of Fred Hampton. And we really
need to contextualize why Hampton was so feared
by the establishment, don't we? Absolutely. He
wasn't just some firebrand speaker shouting slogans.
He was a master community organizer, a truly
persuasive orator who spoke directly to systemic
poverty, to injustice in a way that resonated
deeply. Exactly. film, make sure to show the
BPP's constructive side, too. Those initiatives
like the Free Breakfast for Children program.
Yeah, it was huge. Hugely important. It provided
nutrition, structure for kids in impoverished
areas. It was offering a tangible alternative
to state systems that were, frankly, ignoring
them. This was real social action. It showed
the BPP wasn't just about armed rhetoric. It
was about building parallel structures, parallel
governance almost. But the truly revolutionary
thing, the action that must have absolutely terrified
the FBI and J. Edgar Hoover the most, was Hampton
successfully forging the multiracial Rainbow
Coalition. I mean, that was just... Yeah. Radical
for late 1960s Chicago. Oh, incredibly radical.
Yeah. And critical. The sources really underline
the significance here. Hampton managed to align
the Black Panther Party, a revolutionary black
organization, with predominantly white groups
like the Young Patriots organization. Which was
made up of poor, working class white Southerners.
Right. Migrants to Chicago. That's right. Appalachian
migrants. And also the Puerto Rican civil rights
group, the Young Lords. Think about that. In
an era just defined by racial tension and division,
Hampton was building a unified class -based movement
that deliberately crossed racial lines. The threat
wasn't just, you know, law and order. The threat
was to the fundamental power structure, to capitalism,
to racial hierarchy. Precisely. And the narrative,
smartly. It also humanizes Hampton. Right. It
weaves in details about his relationship with
fellow BPP member Deborah Johnson. Dominique
Fishback plays her. Another great performance.
Really strong. And that relationship, it just
deepens the tragedy. Yeah. Especially when you
learn she was pregnant with their child when
Hampton was briefly released from prison later
on. That personal connection, it grounds the
political struggle in real human stakes. And
as this revolutionary power is building, you
see the state's response getting more and more
desperate. The legal system just gets used like
a blunt instrument against him. Ampton's initial
imprisonment, the one that temporarily pulled
him out of organizing, it was based on the completely
absurd pretext of him allegedly stealing, what
was it, $71 worth of ice cream bars? $71 of ice
cream. It sounds like a joke, but it wasn't.
The sheer pettiness of that charge against a
man organizing these cross -community solidarity
movements, it just speaks volumes about the FBI
strategy, doesn't it? It wasn't about justice.
It was harassment, removal by any means necessary.
They couldn't charge him for organizing effectively,
so they charged him for ice cream. Meanwhile,
Onea... The informant. He's getting forced deeper
and deeper into the deception. He actually rises
through the BPP ranks, becomes a trusted figure.
He ends up as their security captain. The irony
is just excruciating. It's unbelievable. And
the internal conflict for him becomes unbearable
during a police operation, a raid that actually
included the firebombing of the BPP chapter office.
His life is genuinely at risk. He manages to
get out of that chaos, but he's furious, right?
He wants out. Yeah, he tries to quit. Tells Mitchell,
I'm done. This is too dangerous. But Mitchell
just holds up the threat of the original car
theft charges. Yeah. Just dangles it over him.
The FBI didn't need his loyalty. They just needed
leverage. And they held onto it tight. OK, so
this escalating internal pressure, the violence,
it leads to the final devastating push from the
FBI. What's the catalyst there? Well, there are
a couple of key events. First, the tragic. Very
suspicious death of BPP member Jimmy Palmer while
he was in police custody. Then fellow member
Jake Winters retaliates. There's a deadly shootout.
Winters kills several officers before being killed
himself. Oh, things are spiraling. Exactly. The
stakes just shoot to the roof. And then Hampton's
appeal for that ridiculous ice cream charge gets
rejected. So he's facing prison time again. With
all this violence swirling, the FBI director,
J. Edgar Hoover, decides, OK, the time for just
containment, for harassment. It's over. And here
we need to really pause and contextualize the
true weight of the FBI's actions. Hoover gives
the ultimate directive. Fred Hampton must be
neutralized. That's the word they use. Neutralized.
Chilly. This isn't just surveillance anymore.
This is a mandate for political assassination
operating directly under the umbrella of the
FBI's notorious counterintelligence program.
Yeah, that's such a critical point for you, the
listener, to really grasp. The FBI's actions
weren't random. They weren't rogue agents. This
was systematic. Part of COINTELPRO, the counterintelligence
program. Which ran for years. It operated from
1956 all the way to 1971. And its stated purpose,
its official purpose, was to survey, infiltrate,
discredit, and disrupt domestic political organizations.
But for groups like the Black Panther Party,
the directive was explicit to prevent the rise
of a Black Messiah, quote unquote, who could
unify and galvanize Black nationalism. So Hampton
fit that profile perfectly in their eyes. He
is exactly who they feared. This wasn't just
a few bad apples. This was institutionalized
destruction aimed at political movements. OK,
so armed with this deadly directive from Hoover,
Mitchell corners O 'Neill one last time. How
does he ensure compliance this time? He plays
the fear card again, but differently. He basically
warns O 'Neill, look, whether you quit now or
not, the BPP is eventually going to find out
you're the mole. They'll figure it out. And when
they do, you're in mortal danger either way.
So he's trapped. Damned if he does, damned if
he doesn't. Completely trapped. Terrified. He
reluctantly agrees to the plan. And the film
shows him receiving the vial of sedatives. Not
directly from Mitchell, but from another undercover
FBI collaborator. Oh, interesting detail. Yeah,
it's sort of a subtle gesture. Maybe meant to
assure O 'Neill he wasn't totally alone in this.
That he was part of this larger machinery of
betrayal. Makes it slightly less... Personal,
maybe? Yeah. Or just spreads the guilt? So the
execution of the plan, it's just cold, clinical.
Utterly. The following evening, BPP members,
including Hampton, who's just been released from
jail briefly, they gather at the apartment on
Monroe Street. O 'Neill is there. And there's
this moment where an allied gang leader actually
offers Hampton money to flee the country. A chance
to save himself. And Hampton refuses. Immediately
rejects it. Insists the money has to be used
to establish a people's medical clinic. In memory
of Jake Winters, the member killed in the shootout.
That final choice just highlights his absolute
commitment to the movement over his own safety.
And it's in that atmosphere, hours before the
raid, that O 'Neill does it. Yeah. He slips the
sedative, probably secobarbital, into Hampton's
drink. He then leaves the apartment not long
after. Just disappears into the Chicago night.
And then... Hours later, in the pre -dawn darkness,
around 4 .45 a .m., a joint force of Chicago
police officers working with FBI agents raids
the apartment. They shoot and assassinate the
unconscious Fred Hampton in his bed. While he's
drugged. Unconscious. Yeah. And they arrest Deborah
Johnson, who's lying next to him pregnant. The
film is unflinching. It doesn't shy away from
the horrific reality of that state -sanctioned
murder. The postscript of the film is crucial
too, right? It provides that necessary historical
context, the long shadow this event casts. Absolutely
essential. We see that powerful archival footage
of Hampton's funeral procession, thousands of
people. It shows the immense impact his death
had on the community. And crucially, we also
see snippets of that 1989 interview O 'Neill
gave for the documentary Eyes on the Prize 2.
Where he's clearly haunted. Oh, deeply. A man
just living with a terrible weight of his choices,
trying to justify them maybe, but the weight
is visible. And the final title cards deliver
that devastating historical fallout. O 'Neill
continued working as an informant, even went
into witness protection for a while, but ultimately
he couldn't escape the past. He took his own
life in 1990 on the very day Eyes on the Prize
2 premiered. Such a tragic end. And on the judicial
side, the Hampton family and the survivors of
the raid, they filed a monumental civil lawsuit
against the FBI, the Chicago police, the Cook
County State's attorney. filed it back in 1970
and it wasn't a quick settlement not at all it
dragged on for 12 agonizing years 12 years before
finally being settled in 1982 for 1 .85 million
dollars which okay was a significant sum for
the time but does it even begin to cover the
cost of a life taken a movement deliberately
dismantled of course not and Connecting that
history right up to the present day, the sources
confirm that Fred Hampton Jr., the son born just
weeks after the assassination, and his mother,
Akua Njeri, formerly Deborah Johnson, they continue
the fight. They preserve the movement's legacy.
They serve as chairman and board member, respectively,
of the Black Panther Party Cubs. Yeah, the legacy
endures. The tragedy of 1969 still echoes very
powerfully in the work they do today. Okay, so
if the history itself is that complex and devastating,
the path to actually bringing this story to the
screen? Well, it's equally complex and, frankly,
absolutely fascinating. We have to start with
the most surprising fact about where this film
even began. It started with two stand -up comedians.
Right. It sounds unlikely, doesn't it? The originators
of this concept were identical twin brothers.
Kenny and Keith Lucas. You probably know them
from the comedy world as the Lucas Brothers.
And what's amazing is they initiated this concept
way back in 2014. They saw the cinematic potential
in that O 'Neill Hampton dynamic years ago. And
their pitch. It wasn't framed as just, you know,
a dry historical document. They pitched it as
a high concept political thriller. The analogy
they used, which is so telling, was the conformist
meets the departed. Wow. OK, that immediately
tells you the angle. Exactly. It defines that
dual focus perfectly. You've got the internal
moral decay of the individual O 'Neill as the
conformist figure set against the backdrop of
this high stakes, violent underworld of loyalty
and infiltration like the departed. That's a
smart pitch. So they shopped that around. They
did. Took it to major players like A24, Netflix.
And before Shaka King got involved, the project
nearly took a very different shape. Our sources
mentioned an earlier version that had F. Gary
Gray potentially directing. Oh, interesting.
Yeah, and they were apparently looking at Jaden
Smith or Shea Jackson Jr. for the role of Hampton.
That version, for whatever reason, stalled. Which,
you know, maybe thankfully allowed the vision
we got to eventually evolve. So how did Shaka
King come into the picture? That happened around
2016. The Lucas Brothers were actually working
on a television pilot with Shaka King. They pitched
him the Hampton story during that time. King
was immediately intrigued, and suddenly the project
had its creative anchor. King then brought in
screenwriter Will Burson. Who, it turns out,
had also been developing his own separate Hampton
screenplay. So the four of them, King, Burson
and Kenny and Keith Linkus, they collaborated
extensively, merged their visions, hammered out
the script together. A real team effort then.
Definitely. And a crucial part of this six year
development process was getting the authenticity
right, ethically and historically. The filmmakers
knew. Absolutely new. They could not make this
film without the blessing of Fred Hampton's family.
That makes sense. So director King, Daniel Kaluuya,
and one of the key producers, Charles D. King,
they made personal appeals. They reached out
directly to Hampton's widow, Akunjeri, and his
son, Fed Hampton Jr. And that wasn't just like
a courtesy call, right? It was essential. Non
-negotiable. The family's blessing was absolutely
essential. And they weren't just passive approvers.
They were actively involved, consulted on the
script, on casting decisions, really helped the
production maintain fidelity to Hampton's legacy
as they saw it. Now, getting the financing for
something like this, that must have been linked
to keeping that integrity intact. It wasn't a
cheap film. No. It carried a significant budget,
around $26 million. And this is where producer
Charles D. King's company, Macro, played a really
decisive role. Macro financed fully half of that
budget, 50%. Wow, okay. That's huge for an independent
production company, and that gives them leverage,
right? Immense leverage. This financing structure
is like a deep dive nugget in itself. Macro putting
up half the money meant they were essentially
equal partners with the distributor, which was
Warner Bros. Ah, I see. Producer Charles King
specifically emphasized how that arrangement
protected the film. It shielded it from the typical
demands and compromises you might get from a
purely studio -driven project. It meant Shaka
King's vision, and those uncompromising authentic
casting choices like getting Kaluuya and Stanfield
could be protected. That kind of financial independence
is pretty rare, isn't it? Especially for these
kinds of politically sensitive historical dramas.
Extremely rare. So with financing secured and
the family on board, production moved forward.
They ended up choosing Cleveland, Ohio to stand
in for late 1960s Chicago. Why Cleveland? Cheaper.
Or a period look. Probably a combination of factors,
tax incentives, the right kind of period architecture.
Filming itself was rapid. Started in October
2019, wrapped after just 42 days in late December.
Quick shoot. They used locations like the Ohio
State Reformatory, that imposing old prison,
to capture the right period feel. OK, let's pivot
a bit to the soundtrack, because the music for
this film became almost a cultural phenomenon
in itself, didn't it? And it was definitely instrumental
in its eventual award success. There were two
albums. That's right. Two distinct soundtrack
albums. The first one contained the film's original
score. Really tense, atmospheric backing composed
by two veterans, Mark Asham and Craig Harris.
Effective score. But the second album was the
one that really took off. Oh, yeah. Judas and
the Black Messiah. The Inspired album. That's
the one that captured the cultural moment. And
that was a compilation? Yeah, a 22 -track compilation
that recruited some of the absolute biggest names
in contemporary rap and hip -hop. We're talking
Jay -Z, ASAP Rocky, Nas. There's even a posthumous
track from Nipsey Hussle. Wow. And the idea was
for these artists to create music that responded
directly to the film's themes. The struggle,
the injustice, the revolutionary legacy. And
the impact was big. Immediate. The inspired album
shot straight to the top of the Billboard Soundtracks
chart, and it reached, I think it was number
12 on the overall weekly Billboard 200 chart.
That's impressive for a soundtrack. It really
showed that the film's historical message was
resonating deeply with contemporary music culture,
linking the BPP struggle back then to modern
discussions about race and power. And the ultimate
success story from the music side has to be HGR's
song, right? Fight For You. Absolutely. She co
-wrote and performed that track, and it just
became this certified awards powerhouse. Won
the Academy Award for Best Original Song. Oscar
winner. Yep. And later, it also picked up the
Grammy for Best Traditional R &B Performance.
Huge success. We also have to talk about the
release itself, because the context was unique,
to say the least. Challenging. Totally unique
and challenging. It was originally slated for
August 2020. But then, you know, COVID -19 hit
and the release was delayed entirely. It eventually
got its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival
on February 1st, 2021. Generated immediate buzz
there. But the wider release was part of that
whole controversial Warner Bros. strategy for
2021, wasn't it? Exactly. Warner decided to release
its entire 2021 film slate simultaneously in
theaters and digitally on HBO Max, but only for
a single month. Judas and the Black Messiah fell
under that plan. It hit theaters and HBO Max
in mid -February 2021. So the box office figures
probably don't tell the whole story. Not at all.
They reflect those constraints. It grossed a
modest $7 .5 million worldwide against that $26
million budget. Looks like a flop on paper. But
the streaming numbers, that's where you see the
reach and the importance, especially coming during
that period of intense civil rights discourse
after 2020. How many streams? Over 1 .4 million
U .S. households streamed the film during that
crucial first month on HBO Max. So the demand
was massive. Even if people couldn't or wouldn't
go to physical cinemas yet, the audience found
it. Yeah. Hashtag Shag IV, reception, and the
curious case of the supporting actors. Okay,
so when we looked at the critical reception,
it seems pretty clear the film just transcended
those difficult release circumstances. It basically
achieved instant classic status, didn't it? Oh,
absolutely. The consensus was overwhelming. It
achieved universal acclaim, got a 96 % positive
rating on Rotten Tomatoes, which is huge, and
84 on Metacritic. And maybe just as importantly,
the audience is polled by CinemaScore, which
measures actual audience enthusiasm. They gave
the film a rare A grade. An A. Wow. That's hard
to get. Very hard. It indicates not just that
critics thought it was high quality, but that
it had a really strong emotional resonance with
the people who watched it. And the praise was
pretty holistic, right? Across the board. Yeah,
critics lauded pretty much everything. Shaka
King's focused, intense direction, the taut cinematography
capturing that 60s feel, but also the tension,
the depth of the screenplay. And of course, the
powerhouse performances. Kaluuya, Stanfield,
Dominique Fishback as Deborah Johnson. all singled
out. And the timing definitely played a role
in how it was received, coming out shortly after
the massive racial justice uprisings of 2020.
Yeah, critics frequently noted that. They praised
the film for doing more than just retelling history.
It put the current moment into fresh historical
context, as one review put it. It was hailed
widely as a forceful condemnation of racial injustice,
connecting past and present. And it immediately
got compared to other big historical dramas of
the time. Oh, yeah. It entered that conversation
straight away. For instance, the Chicago Tribune
Review called it brash, narratively risky, full
of life. And then they went on to explicitly
state that it was, quote, a leap and a bound
ahead of the recent Netflix production, The Trial
of the Chicago 7. Ooh, direct comparison. Yeah.
That kind of comment really placed Judas firmly
in the top tier of contemporary American historical
cinema. It wasn't just another biopic. It was
seen as something more vital. Okay, but... A
film dealing with figures as revered as Hampton
and systems as, well, destructive as COINTELPRO
and the actions of the FBI and police. It must
have faced some internal critique, too, especially
from those aligned with Hampton's politics. Absolutely.
And our sources highlight some really fascinating,
conflicting viewpoints here. This is a key area
to explore because it shows just how difficult
it is to adapt history, especially a revolutionary
history, in a way that satisfies everyone. There
was definitely ideological critique. Like what?
Well, for example, former Black Panther Party
member Eddie Conway, who spent decades in prison
himself, he publicly stated that he felt the
film's portrayal of Hampton was factually inaccurate
in its temperament. Temperament? How so? Conway
argued the film depicted Hampton as maybe too
cold. Too hardened, almost this kind of granite
-like political figure. Whereas the historical
Hampton, according to those who knew him well,
was known for being outwardly warm -hearted,
incredibly charismatic, even humorous in his
day -to -day interactions. So a potential tension
between capturing the revolutionary seriousness
and the personal warmth. Exactly. That critique
highlights the bind filmmakers can be in needing
cinematic drama. which sometimes demands a certain
severity, versus capturing the nuanced, full
reality of a complex leader. And then there was
the structural critique about focusing on O 'Neill.
Right. This goes to the core decision the title
announces. Yeah. Centering the story on Judas,
the betrayer. Other leftist critics argue that
this choice was a bit of a worn out trope. You
know, something often deployed in films about
martyred figures who challenged the capitalist
system. What's the argument against that focus?
The argument is basically by making the informants
anxiety is internal moral struggle, the central
dramatic hook of the film. You inevitably neglect
to spend sufficient time really elucidating the
actual. complexity, the intellectual rigor, the
revolutionary political platform that Fred Hampton
himself was advocating for. So the film becomes
more of a thriller about a mole, potentially
overshadowing the political message. That's the
critique. That it risks becoming more about the
betrayal mechanism than a deep dive into the
political system Hampton was fighting against.
It's a valid debate about narrative choices and
their consequences. OK, this inherent tension
between like narrative structure and historical
mandate. It leads us perfectly to probably the
most talked about awards moment of that season,
the Oscar nomination anomaly. Yes, the supporting
actor situation. Right. I mean, the film clearly
has two leads, right? You've got Kaluuya as the
Black Messiah, Fred Hampton, and you've got Lakeith
Stanfield as Judas, William O 'Neill. The entire
plot hinges on O 'Neill's perspective. It's pretty
clear cut, isn't it? Yet, when the Oscar nominations
were announced, Daniel Kaluuya and Lakeith Stanfield
were both nominated for the Academy Award for
Best Supporting Actor. Both of them. Which immediately
made everyone go, huh. It raised eyebrows everywhere,
not just because, you know, the line between
lead and supporting can be blurry sometimes,
but because it created this highly unusual situation.
How can the two main characters both be supporting?
It was unconventional enough that it sparked
serious analysis from awards pundits and journalists.
Often, you know, when studios have two strong
actors and potentially lead roles in the same
film, they'll strategically campaign one as lead
and the other as supporting. Right. To avoid
splitting the vote in one category, maximize
the chances of a win somewhere. Exactly. But
here, the confusion felt more genuine because
the film really does feel like a two -hander.
It forced people to genuinely question, well,
what is the fundamental focus of this story?
Who is it truly about? And the Neon Times journalist
Kyle Buchanan had that perfect distillation of
the absurdity, didn't he? Yeah, he jokingly asked
on Twitter, I think it was, if Stanfield and
Kaluuya are both supporting actors, then who
exactly is this movie supposed to be about? Which
summed up the confusion perfectly. So what was
the final outcome? Ultimately, it was an undeniable,
massive triumph for Kaluuya. His portrayal of
Hampton was just so powerful, so commanding,
that he swept the major awards. He won the Academy
Award, the Golden Globe, the BAFTA, the Screen
Actors Guild Award, all for Best Supporting Actor.
Total sweep. Total sweep. Stanfield, though nominated
right alongside him in that category, didn't
win. But the fact that they were both nominated,
both recognized at that level, really underlined
the undeniable power of their collaborative,
dual performances at the heart of the film, even
if the category felt weird. Hashtag tag jizzy
app. The unconventional background of the storytellers.
Okay, so now let's circle all the way back to
the guys who first conceived this whole high
-stakes narrative. The screenwriters, Kenny and
Keith Lucas, because their personal journey,
it provides maybe the most compelling insight
into why this film, despite being this heavy
political tragedy, felt so structurally precise,
maybe even had that analytical edge. The Lucas
brothers. Yeah. Known for their comedy. Exactly.
Identical twin brothers known primarily for their
unique brand of observational, sometimes surreal,
satirical comedy. That alone is a pretty startling
pivot point for writing a searing political assassination
thriller. Definitely unexpected. But their intellectual
foundation, that's the really key part, isn't
it? It's absolutely key. They weren't just, you
know, comedy guys who stumbled into this. Before
stand -up, they were philosophers. Both brothers
graduated with honors from the College of New
Jersey back in 2007. Their degrees. Philosophy.
Philosophy. Okay, that changes the picture a
bit. Completely. Think about the disciplines
inherent in studying philosophy. Ethics, political
theory, logic, existentialism. These are all
perfect lenses through which to view the moral
complexities, the decay of an informant figure
like William O 'Neill. That makes a lot of sense,
actually. But their academic ambition didn't
even stop there, did it? Not even close. They
made an even more significant commitment to academia
before that final pivot into comedy. They both
enrolled in top -tier law schools. Kenny went
to NYU School of Law. Keith went to Duke University
School of Law. Wow. NYU and Duke Law. That's
serious academic firepower. Absolutely. And here
is the truly incredible part, the testament to
their commitment to their creative calling. They
attended law school all the way through until
the... literal final week of their third year.
No way. The final week. The final week. They
were basically standing on the threshold of graduation.
Probably should have been prepping for the bar
exam. And then together they decided, nope, we're
dropping out to pursue stand -up comedy full
-time. That takes, I don't even know what that
takes, guts, insanity, conviction. An incredible
amount of conviction, I think. Yeah. To walk
away from that level of investment, that kind
of guaranteed status and likely income. But they
did it. They committed fully to comedy, made
their late night debut on Late Night with Jimmy
Fallon in 2012. Right. Then they developed their
own animated series, Lucas Bros. Moving Co. appeared
in movies like 22 Jump Street in 2014. They really
built a comedy tree. And their comedy style,
it reflects that background, doesn't it? It's
not just jokes. Not at all. It's highly specific.
It's categorized as observational, sure, but
it leans heavily into political comedy, black
comedy, satire, sometimes surreal humor. Their
subjects frequently dissect African -American
culture, American politics, race relations. But
through this deliberately critical, often kind
of detached analytical lens. So the philosophical
training, the legal analysis training, it clearly
informed that satirical viewpoint. Their comedy
wasn't just, you know, slapstick. It was critical
analysis disguised as humor. Precisely. Yeah.
And that blend of analytical rigor and that sort
of detached black comedic observation. It gave
them the perfect, albeit totally unusual, toolkit
to approach the deep tragedy of Fred Hampton's
life without just succumbing to simple melodrama
or sentimentality. And they got recognition for
their comedy, too, right? Oh, yeah. Significant
recognition. Their 2017 Netflix special, Lucas
Brothers, on drugs, was highly acclaimed. It
applied their signature surreal, critical style
to topics like addiction and identity. Pace magazine
ranked it the ninth best comedy special of that
year. So they were deeply impressed. embedded
successful figures in the comedy world when this
political thriller project finally gained traction.
And then the success of Judas and the Black Messiah
just cemented this incredible multi -genre pivot.
Their debut film is Screenwriters. Yeah. And
they get nominated for an Oscar. Nominated for
the Academy Award and the Writers Guild of America
Award for Best Original Screenplay. Just phenomenal
for debut feature script. And they won some major
awards, too. They did. Along with Shaka King
and Will Burson, they won the NAACP Image Award
for Outstanding Writing in a Motion Picture.
And they also won the prestigious Paul Selvin
Award from the WGA, which specifically honors
the film that best embodies the spirit of constitutional
rights and civil liberties. A very fitting award
for this film. So what are they doing now, still
writing drama? We're back to comedy. Their trajectory
is fascinating. They're now taking that writing
acumen and applying it across genres. They're
developing a new comedy project with Phil Lord
and Christopher Miller, you know, the guys behind
Spider -Verse, the Lego movie, 21 Jump Street.
Okay, that sounds promising. Yeah, known for
really sharp, witty stuff. And they're also working
on a semi -autobiographical film based on their
own lives, which is going to be produced by Jed
Apatow. The king of modern comedy. So they're
really straddling both worlds now. Exactly. What's
so fascinating is that synthesis. They went from
philosophy to law to satire and then applied
all that training to write this searing political
tragedy that earned them Hollywood's highest
honors. It just shows the power, maybe, of bringing
a really analytical, even detached mind to even
the most emotional, gut -wrenching material.
Hashtag tags the outro and final thought. So,
OK, after this deep dive into the history, the
production complexities, the the unconventional
creative team behind it all. What's the key takeaway
here? I mean, Judas and the Black Messiah clearly
stands not just as a necessary historical record,
but as a major artistic and cultural achievement.
Right. I think that's undeniable. Despite those
constraints of the pandemic release that really
dampened the box office numbers, the film absolutely
secured its legacy. Universal critical acclaim.
Multiple Oscar wins, including for Kaluuya and
the song. Yeah. It made its mark. And the story
of how it got made, it feels like a powerful
lesson in like cross -genre application or something.
You have this tragic historical account. FBI
manipulation, betrayal, assassination. Yet it
was meticulously shaped by screenwriters who
came from philosophy, law, and satirical black
comedy. Yeah, and that background, that specific
combination, allowed them to construct this high
-stakes thriller that looks at the systematic
destruction of a revolutionary leader through
a lens that feels both critical and... Cooly
intellectual, maybe. Not just purely emotional.
Right. And that blend maybe ensured the film
was seen not just as history, but as this unsettling,
deeply relevant mirror. Reflecting the continued
issues of systemic injustice we're still grappling
with today. The Lucas Brothers journey kind of
reminds us that sometimes the most insightful,
the most enduring works of art, they come from
people who approach these really serious subjects
with an unexpected, maybe even rigorous analytical
background. Well said. So maybe we leave you,
the listener, with this final provocative thought.
Armed now with all this knowledge about Fred
Hampton's short but incredibly powerful life,
about the decades -long FBI lawsuit, the COINTELPRO
context, and the continued involvement of his
son in preserving that legacy, the film's structural
choice, the one we discussed, to center O 'Neill,
the betrayer, it really highlights the cost of
complicity, the cost of ambivalence. So if, as
some of those critics claimed, ambivalence can
be its own form of betrayal, What does that imply
about your own engagement, your own attention
to uncomfortable historical truths and systemic
issues today? Now that you're armed with this
detailed knowledge from the film and its history.
That's definitely something to mull over. How
do we engage with these histories once we know
them? What responsibility comes with that knowledge?
Food for thought as you reflect on the complexities
of the past and the choices we all make in the
present. That's it for this deep dive. We'll
see you next time.