"Shirley" (2024) sets out to capture the groundbreaking, albeit unsuccessful, 1972 presidential run of Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to the United States Congress. The film straddles the line between historical homage and cinematic spectacle with the grace of a tightrope walker in a windstorm. It's commendable in its ambition, like attempting to solve a Rubik's Cube blindfolded - admirable, but you kind of wonder why.
The movie is ok, and by "ok," I mean it's like that lukewarm cup of coffee you forgot about but decide to drink anyway because, well, caffeine is caffeine. The narrative attempts to juggle Chisholm's political struggles, personal trials, and historical context, occasionally dropping the ball but mostly keeping it in the air. The performances are robust, channeling the essence of the 70s so convincingly you can almost smell the vintage cologne and see the questionable fashion choices off-screen. However, at times, it feels like the film is more of a spirited reenactment than a deep dive, skimming the surface like a stone over water, touching on depth but never fully plunging in.
Where "Shirley" shines, though, is in its unwavering commitment to reminding us of a story that deserves to be told, even if it does so with the finesse of a sledgehammer to a nail. It's like watching your dad use a smartphone; the effort is there, the process is painful, but the outcome is mostly what you hoped for. In a sea of historical dramas that take themselves too seriously, "Shirley" is refreshingly self-aware, winking at its audience from time to time with on-the-nose dialogue and scenes that feel like they were directed by someone who binge-watched every political drama on streaming services. In the end, "Shirley" is a decent watch, the kind you'd recommend to a friend with the caveat, "It's interesting, but keep your expectations in check - like, way in check."
