Doc Corner: 'Don't Be Nice'

By Glenn Dunks

Youthful enthusiasm can get you a long way and that is something that Don’t Be Nice has in spades. First-time director Max Powers injects his own vigour and excitement into this story of slam poets in preparation for the national championships (yes, they exist). He does this through captivating editing (he was formerly a documentary editor) and some well-used vignettes, styled after music videos. But ultimately the success of this debut comes down to its subjects - they all have a spark on camera as well as in their words and Powers gives them all the star treatment at some point across Don't Be Nice's zippy 95-minute runtime.

The doc's title comes from the idea that in slam poetry, one mustn’t be nice, but be necessary. Say what you mean and don’t lighten it up for those who don’t want to hear it...

Be open in your criticism so that your fellow poet can find the genius within their work. The movie opens with its subjects already in full-throated artistic expression, competing at a local slam poetry night to win the chance at competing for the Bowery Poetry Club team.

Ashley August, Timothy DuWhite, Joel Francois, Sean MEGA Desvignes and Noel Quinones, four men and one woman, are mentored and coached over several months, enter trial tournaments and test out their often tongue-twisting verbal performances and rhythmic flows on each other in between conversations about the world around in in a Brooklyn townhouse. 

Simply shot yet with a high gloss on the streets of New York City – it’s a great and unique addition to any NYC canon you’ve got – Powers makes keen use of close-up to capture not just the expressions on their face when reciting their poems and explaining their back-stories in painful detail, but also to their faces as they ache with the news of another innocent black man shot by police. We meet them all when they are all well on their way to having a grasp of their voice, but it’s fascinating to watch them take events that are happening in the news and turn them into prose that they then turn into performance, often speaking in duet with their fellow slammers.

To be honest, I don’t think I learned much about the art of slam poetry. In fact, at one moment when their coach asks “where’s the poetry” after a first draft of a Purge-inspired flow, I couldn’t help but agree. At times they come off as more similar to rap lyrics than the traditional form of poetry. But then there are moments – more commonly the solo works – that their true talents at the art come out most prominently. The camera lingering on their face and their body as they perform stories of physical and societal abuse, emotional trauma and their struggles in love and in their own skins. The word play stands out and the pain becomes a powerful weapon.

While I appreciated the film’s brisk pacing, the ending feels somewhat abrupt as they reach Atlanta for the championship. High on inspiration, it is an ending that really emphasises how little we know about these people. I would have liked perhaps a little more context that would have added weight to their works as well as the film overall. As it is, Don’t Be Nice plays itself a little bit too safe in that regard. But ultimately, any misgivings about its ending are easily set aside if one just thinks back on the individual performances that are spread throughout the film. Including that that break some sort of documentary wall and become performance art for the camera. One such scene in particular involving Ashley August (arguably the break-out of the film) on the subway allows the poem she is reciting to come to life in a way that is strikingly cinematic as well as (even more) emotionally resonant.

In many ways you could compare Don’t Be Nice to the likes of Spellbound, Mrs Carey’s Concert or last year’s Science Fair. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong, although it follows characters grappling with subject matter of a far more emotionally bare and mature nature. It is an artistic exclamation point on pertinent issues and a way of exploring themes of race, gender, sexuality and the political space we physically inhabit that feels fresh. Even on a more basic level, it is a film of artists reaching for greatness. Small – intimate perhaps a more appropriate word – but bursting at the seams with fire, creativity, rage and artistic love.

Release: Out now in New York City at the IFC Center and in L.A. at Laemmle Theatre from this Friday. 

Oscar chances: Too small and under the radar, but I hope people discover it. It's a gem.