After languishing in silence for 37 years, “X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X” has made a thunderous return to the Metropolitan Opera from now through December 2.
“X” first arrived on the Philadelphia stage in 1985 and its revised version premiered at New York City Opera in 1986. Pianist Anthony Davis composed the music; his brother Christopher Davis, actor and director, wrote the story; and the libretto was written by their cousin Thulani Davis, poet, author, and playwright.
The cast stars Grammy Award-winning baritone Will Liverman, who triumphed in the 2021 Met premiere of Terence Blanchard’s ”Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” as Malcolm, alongside soprano Leah Hawkins as both his mother, Louise, and wife, Betty; mezzo-soprano Raehann Bryce-Davis as his sister Ella; bass-baritone Michael Sumuel as his brother Reginald; and tenor Victor Ryan Robertson as Street and Nation of Islam leader Elijah Muhammad.
The opera presents 12 vignettes from the life of Malcolm X, from youth to death: abject poverty in Depression-era Lansing to adolescence in Boston to Mecca (the site of his pivotal hajj, the traditional Muslim pilgrimage), as well as a number of places in New York City, including a mosque, the streets of Harlem, and finally, the site of his assassination in 1965: the Audubon Ballroom at Broadway and West 165th Street.
It’s not a question of what took this production so long to return to the great stage, but why Malcolm X’s words seem more crucial today than during his journey on Earth. Anthony Davis points out, “Yes, the opera has returned at a defining moment in history. We are on the verge of seeing people attempting to erase the past by banning books, the critical race theory, and suppressing voting rights.”
In recent years, people have asked, “Where is Brother Malcolm? We need him.” For many Blacks, particularly in Harlem, the human and civil rights activist was a community warrior later pushed to a national/international platform. While still being groomed (by Elijah Muhammad) for Minister of Mosque #7, he could be seen walking through Harlem, conversing with Harlemites. He would often speak at the corner of 125th Street and 7th Avenue (where Pan Africanists and revolutionaries spoke), attracting huge crowds with his dagger-sharp words, hitting topics such as economic empowerment and Black life inequalities.
One such street scene is captured by baritone Liverman, standing on a ladder and delivering fiery words to a crowd (chorus) holding signs proclaiming “Liberty or Death” and “Police Brutality Must Go!” The amazing dancers (choreographer Rickey Tripp) throughout stood in unison with clenched fists in the air, the Black Power salute (similar to John Carlos’s podium stance with Tommie Smith at the 1968 Summer Olympics).
Tony-nominated Robert O’Hara said he was looking for a new avenue for the Malcom X biography. His new lane became an Afrofuturistic dreamscape sequence of events to adorn Malcolm X’s life story. “A spaceship has crashed into the Met,” he explained, “and a future race of people are telling the story of this icon.” The spaceship, with its colorful lights, hovers above the stage, projecting real images from Brother Malcolm’s life and other historical footage. At one point, the spaceship displays the names of Black victims of police brutality, such as Breanna Taylor, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, and George Floyd.
Ironically, composer Davis wasn’t totally convinced the Afrofuturism concept would work, but now says, “It was the perfect concept for X’s music.”
Davis’s music is a spirited assortment, from improvisational avant garde to bebop and hard bop jazz, to the operas of Richard Wagner to Indonesian gamelan music. “The function of the orchestra is so important: The emotions of every scene come from the orchestra,” said Davis. “All the music, from the ’30s to ’60s, captures the life of Malcolm, from the Lionel Hampton Orchestra with a young Charles Mingus on bass to Duke Ellington and Billie Holiday. Later, when he joins the Nation of Islam, his conversion invokes the world of John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and my mentor Max Roach.”
Malcom was part of the music and known by many musicians. Davis inserted his improvisational ensemble Episteme, within the traditional orchestra. Who ever heard of avant garde in an opera with blues and gospel? “In setting words to music, I studied Billie Holiday to understand the elasticity of time, the polyrhythmic play that allows the voice to rise and swing to assert its independence.”
Connecting all those musical parts in this revised score was no easy task, but Kazem Abdullah was brilliant in his role as conductor, making it work like a smooth bullet train ride. The singers, too, had their work cut out for them as they navigated a score with ever-changing beats and blaring sounds.
A big, romping scene that brewed all those musical ingredients into one gigantic gumbo pot was young Malcolm Little’s (boy soprano) arrival in Boston, landing under the negative tutelage of flamboyant hustler “Street,” played by the dynamic tenor Robertson, who stole the show. The scene was riddled with futuristic costumed dancers movin’ and groovin’ seductively to modern jazz and hip hop. It was the sounds and actions of the big city, where another young boy was about to be swayed down the wrong path, a theme that unfortunately traveled from the past to the now and finds its way into our future.
Baritone Liverman has a shining moment when portraying Malcolm in his dark, gloomy penitentiary cell, spouting his soliloquy: “I shined your shoes, I sold your dope/But the crime is mine/I will do your time! You want the truth/But you don’t want to know.” Powerful words that reflect the intellectual cowardice and shamelessness of capitalist America.
Costume designer Dede Ayite’s attention to detail rings with perfection. The celebratory scene with the Nation of Islam, the women in their all-white uniforms and brothers in blue, is memorable. Witnessing those beautiful Black women in all white, as well as the brothers, is a sight to behold: The Fruit of Islam in real time at Mosque #7 will always be such a sight.
The scenes with the Nation of Islam and Elijah Mohammad are critical, once getting past their terrible breakup and accusations (el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz and Mohammad). Leah Hawkins brought her big, lush soprano to the role of Malcolm’s mother, as well as that of wife Betty. The newly added scene of the husband/wife duet ending the second act saw Malcolm expressing his anxiety about leaving the Nation. He stated, “Elijah gave me life.” His ministry, a speaker of truth, mentoring young men, inspiring Black communities across the country, was basically due to Elijah. But he, too, gave life to Elijah.
Honestly, I was all set for the assassination scene as something big and dramatic but no. “I didn’t want to overdo the assassination scene, I can still see those photos,” said Davis. The shots fired rang drama, but the spaceship’s lights provided a serene moment—Malcolm’s ascension to the stars, a martyr whose actions and voice transcended his planet presence.
And if you believe the 1968 words of Kwame Ture (Stokely Carmichael), “Few people get the right to die for what they believe in…” The “X” ending is a transcendental moment. Afrofuturism lives.
It was an Afrofuturistic culmination, not really an ending. The spirit, vocal cadence, philosophy, books, and activism of el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz will travel the globe throughout eternity. That is the existence of Afrofuturism! As Sun-Ra, the pioneer of Afrofuturism and jazz improvisation, composer, and poet who wore futuristic garments and played music, noted: from the future with roots in the past. The lesson learned from “X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X” is there is no spaceship. The human beings using this planet are the spaceship. We are the salvation for the world. We are the outer-beings, the pride, determination, and resilience who can change the world. We belong to the human race. And as with Brother Malcolm, life does not end at death when you have a definitive message to share.