“Ted, could you tell me a little bit about Paul Robeson?” William Greaves gently asks Ted Poston in “Once Upon a Time in Harlem,” a question that no one has been able to ask anyone else for quite some time. Poston, noteworthy in his own right as a journalist, ended up being the one to identify Robeson’s body when he passed, but can vividly remember him alive for the massive man he was and what it was like to see him perform or to know his wife Essie, who may not show up in many history books, but was a major force behind his career. It is August 1972, nearly a half-century after the Harlem Renaissance, when the “Nationtime” director has gathered as many of the artists still alive from that era to talk about their experience when he knows that they could just as easily take it to the grave if no one takes note. Greaves, who passed away in 2014, might’ve taken it with him as well when he ended up using what he had captured to support another project he was working on, the 1974 short “From These Roots,” which is why the footage had sat for storage in years before the value of hearing directly from the source became too evident to ignore. Resurfaced now, however, it can feel as if someone found something as monumental as the 1958 convention of jazz greats photo “A Great Day in Harlem” in their grandparents’ basement, with the film revelatory if for no other reason than to see all these remarkable figures in Black art speaking with passion at a convivial cocktail party, never mind the crucial and speciously documented history they discuss.
There’s something wonderfully poetic about “Once Upon a Time in Harlem” before famed authors can recite their work when ultimately it’s a celebration of a network that made the creative movement possible after it took one behind the scenes to resurrect and restore the footage as Greaves’ son David, who was one of the camera people on the day, was made responsible for putting the film together with his daughter Liani Greaves. Those convened at the home of Duke Ellington to reminisce about the Renaissance aren’t only artists, but those that provided critical support, from the librarians who provided a quiet space for poets to write and historians that can remember the various publications that not only created documentation of such an important time but provided a steady stream of work to sustain a living. Heroes that might’ve gone overlooked such as A’Lelia Walker, the daughter of Madam C.J. Walker remembered for holding parties where writers and painters could commingle and perhaps collaborate on the dust jackets for books, and John T. Miller, who never wanted to be noticed for running an illegal lottery but helped put money into the community for it to thrive, are fondly recalled and guests ensure that no area is forgotten in the midst of a scintillating conversation, making declarations like “Please someone speak about Zora Neale Hurston,” setting off a whole new round of recollections while Greaves will occasionally pull someone into another room for a more intimate talk.
Both the art and the footage shot by Greaves deserves reverence, which is honored appropriately by the simple elegance of the presentation, often divided into split screen where black-and-white stills of younger selves in parallel with their present selves in motion reinforces the point that this history is hardly static or one-dimensional and descriptions of the work from the artists in can make the works come alive when presented in tandem. (Romare Bearden’s 1971 mural “The Block” practically explodes off the screen with its accompanying commentary.) A tasteful restraint overall allows the frisson of the event to come through undiluted with the messiness of fierce intellectual debates between those gathered relaying the energy that pushed so many to greatness back in the day and touch on issues that continue to persist into the present adding to its currency in every way. As excited as many of the guests are to see one another after so many years, the opportunity to see living legends in what feels like real time holds the same amount of exhilaration and when Greaves and crew were crouched into corners just trying to catch the action, the view can have the same voyeuristic appeal of peeking through a door, only “Once Upon a Time in Harlem” gives a fuller picture than has ever been seen before.
“Once Upon a Time in Harlem” does not yet have U.S. distribution.