When the trailers for George C. Wolfe’s Rustin dropped a few months ago, we saw a man taking center stage in a way he never has before. In front of crowds and eager, impressionable youth, Bayard Rustin was a beacon of light and it feels like he could change a person’s mind simply by being in his presence. Embodied by the passionate Colman Domingo, we see 1963’s March on Washington in an entirely new light, and something rallies within our hearts for Rustin to finally receive the recognition he deserves for his organization of the event. Domingo has always been an actor whose characters put a lot of their hearts on the line, but his Rustin is something even grander than we have ever seen before. In Domingo’s deft hands, this man is allowed to desire and feel fear as much as he exudes triumph. By focusing on Bayard Rustin’s heart, we feel the quaking magnitude of his influence.
We do not have a lot of feature films that center on historical Black, queer figures, so Rustin feels wholly unique and excitingly realized. When Bayard first meets Johnny Ramey’s Elias, there is an instant attraction, and we how they move in and out of each other’s physical space to communicate that desire in a time when homosexuality was more looked down upon. Just think of how relieved a closeted person would feel to see Bayard living his life openly. “I cannot surrender my differences,” Bayard says, pointedly. “The world won’t let me.” We see flashes of fear across Domingo’s face throughout the film, and it makes us wonder that if Bayard becomes more famous, he will meet more resistance for living his life authentically.
At the time of our interview, Domingo reveals that no one has been asking him about Bayard’s distinctive way of speaking. Domingo is an actor who is aware of acting with his entire body–top to bottom, front to back–and that includes learning how Bayard Rustin gave himself a singular accent. He draws you in with his rhythm of speaking and his cadence.
My favorite moment of Rustin comes in the early morning hours of the march as scaffolding is still being built and flags are draped. He steps away from the fray and looks in the direction of the Washington Monument as the sun peeks over the trees. Bayard begins to sing “Jesus Walked This Lonesome Valley” to himself, and we realize that Bayard is thinking on his path. It’s almost a whisper, and it sounds like a prayer or a promise. We can celebrate larger-than-life figures in the realms of art, sports, and music, but Rustin confirms that one of the bravest things you can do is face down the people who tell you to stop living your life in the only way that you know how.
Colman Domingo does Bayard Rustin proud.
Rustin is streaming now on Netflix.
