“The worst that the audience will think is that [the documentary] defines the city. The best that will happen is that the people [in the documentary] will act as a lens [that gives a glimpse into the city],” says Cory Booker, the mayor of Newark, New Jersey, as he addresses the Bloods, Crips, cops and Newark citizens who have assembled at the Newark Symphony Hall to celebrate the premiere of the new Sundance Channel series, Brick City. His voice even, his gestures smooth and practiced, Booker is even more eloquent than the speaker who came before him—Oscar winner and Brick City executive producer Forest Whitaker, who, moments before, shuffled off the stage with an awkward, “I’m gonna go now…bye.” Booker scans the faces lost in the darkness of the theatre, and even 20 rows back, it seems as though he’s staring into each individual’s eyes alone as he places the future of the city in their hands with the statement: “What is most important is what we do here in Newark after today.”
Booker is the de facto main character of Brick City, which was directed and executive produced by Marc Levin (The Protocols of Zion) and Mark Benjamin (Why We Fight Now). His co-star? The city of Newark, a crime-ridden metropolis where the murder rate is nearly four times the national average—a state of affairs that Booker has been trying to remedy since his appointment in 2006. Together they star in five hour-long episodes that seek to reveal the duel sides of the city—the side where poverty and violence tear at the flesh of the community, and the side where citizens patiently stitch up the wounds. And, for one night at least, people touched by both those sides came together under a roof heavy with gilt and ornate paintings to celebrate the bruised and scarred city that is their home.
The first episode of the series sets up a parallel between Booker and Jayda, a Blood gang member attempting to escape her violent past. While the mayor, who is practically Barack Obama Part II, works to drag Newark from the benthos by bouncing from a police academy graduation to a game of night basketball to press conference after press conference, Jayda aims to start a nonprofit that would provide guidance to troubled women—a group of teens she calls “my nine strong women.” When she addresses the crowd before the screening, the audience members send up a cheer that rivals the applause that greeted Booker. “I was pegged and written off as someone who wasn’t going to be anything, and now I know that’s not true,” Jayda says, and somewhere near the front of the VIP section her nine strong women shout and clap. Not only has she changed her ways, Jayda has also broken down gang divisions by dating a Crip named Creep: “I never thought I would kick it with a Crip, much less sleep with one every night,” Jayda says in the episode, in which she also reveals that she’s pregnant with Creep’s child. In all respects, as the series begins, Jayda’s life seems to be straightening out.
But lest you think Levin and Benjamin’s series amounts to some sappy “Yes We Can” retread, the directors also make it clear that Booker and Jayda will not come by their desired goals easily. The episode opens with a shot of Booker jogging through the city (a scene that prompted the audience to stifle a solid wave of laughter), musing via voiceover about the murders that have occurred on that street, an inner monologue that ends with the question: “Where the hell am I?” The directors make it clear—via interspersing at least three sequences that depict recent murder scenes—that Booker still has a sizable amount of blood to wash from Newark’s hands. Meanwhile, Jayda learns that a U.S. Marshall is on her trail regarding a crime that she committed years before—the brutal beating of another woman. As the episode draws to a close, Jayda teeters on the verge of turning herself in. By alternating scenes of hope and progress—Booker’s stirring speeches and Jayda’s tender moments with her child—with the harsh realities of a city still very much beset by troubles, Levin and Benjamin manage to present a multifaceted vision of Newark, New Jersey, rather than one that solely condemns or praises the city.
After the lights came up and the audience gave up the ghost of catching another glimpse of Booker (the police were out in full force, most likely to prevent local gang members from getting any fancy ideas), one scene clings to the cranium: After yet another shooting, Levin and Benjamin are on the scene—camera in hand—when a bystander stops them, shouting directly into the lens: “Go find a fucking happy story! Go find some black people having a good fucking time!” Following that scene, the audience erupted into a cacophony of applause and shouts—it was, by far, the most ecstatic response of the evening.
In transit on the way to the D.C. premiere, Levin offers up his thoughts on the scene: “Something about that moment that is just so raw and real,” he says. “What the guy’s doing is basically–vocalizing what Mark and I believe deep in our hearts, even though obviously he was screaming [in our camera]… We can’t even watch the local news.” But unlike your local affiliate, Levin says, he and Benjamin “try to go deeper. And build a story and characters who are fighting to try to reduce violence and make the city safer.” And through moments such as these, moments when Newark citizens speak directly into the camera’s lens in one way or another, they have succeeded.
Brick City premieres on the Sundance Channel on Monday, September 21, at 10 p.m.
Yeah, been wanting to see this.
I’ll trade you my Bored to Death screener for your copy, Bren-Dawg.
Looks fabulous.
Anybody know who did that song? Sooooo good. Cory Booker for President!