MICHAEL K. WILLIAMS: A BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLE BY SHELDON TAYLOR

                  

                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                

 Six miles separates rough-and-tumble East Flatbush from gentrified Williamsburg. A short distance, yet many worlds apart. Through five mayoral administrations, a trifecta of crime, homicide and drugs swept through East Flatbush like a cyclone. At the center of it all were the Vanderveer Estates, one of the most notorious housing projects in NYC during the Eighties and Nineties crack era. 

Head north along Flatbush Avenue. A couple turns and some thirty minutes later, heavy traffic gives way to hip bars, trendy boutiques and pricey real estate. Peter Luger's Steak House, still in business after 134 years, anchors the area. Glassy apartment buildings sparkle like emerald-cut diamonds. 

Behold the urban oasis that is Williamsburg.

Michael K. Williams lived in both of these neighborhoods. Vanderveer was his old stomping ground. A luxury Schafer Landing North condo overlooking the East River became his final home. Bookends that bound his cycle of life.  East Flatbush and Williamsburg were landmarks along the gifted actor's circuitous road littered with highs and lows, career breakdowns and breakthroughs, encapsulating life and ultimately---death. 

In the early 2000s, Williams was a struggling actor in his mid-thirties. A decade earlier, he was riding high as a choreographer until his career disintegrated in the hazy smoke of the superficial music business. Broke and living in the projects, he summoned his resolve and took a final shot at his dreams. Norman Vincent Peale wrote: "shoot at the moon/even if you'll miss/ you'll land among the stars." 

Williams did one better: he became a star.

Future film critics might compare Williams to another late-bloomer---Sydney Greenstreet, the portly character actor who gave film classics The Maltese Falcon (1941) and Casablanca (1942) their ominous chill. For me, William's utilitarian body of work echoes the gifted Clifton Powell (Dead Presidents, Ray, Next Friday) whose under-utilization is still one of Hollywood's major fumbles. 

Portrayals of nomadic stick-up man Omar Little and bootlegger Chalky White in HBO franchise features The Wire and Boardwalk Empire are high-resolution roles in the Williams portfolio. A deeper dive into his body of work reveals a masterful range that deserves examination and reexamination.

 In my essay The Ancestral Significance of Chadwick Boseman I unearthed a story that took place during the filming of Roots (1976). It involved actor Richard Roundtree as the fictional Sam Bennett, a slave with a jaunty swagger recalling his Shaft film character. In a pivotal scene, Sam grovels on his knees and begs his master for mercy. A traumatized Roundtree struggled through multiple takes, retreating from the set to regain his composure.

Williams would experience his own occupational hazards over the years. There were many.

 While filming a six-minute cameo in  12 Years A Slave (2013) as a rebellious slave savagely beaten by his captors, he suffered a momentary nervous breakdown and had to be comforted on set. During a Zoom interview ((cue to 40:08) featuring the cast of Lovecraft Country (2020), Williams weeps as he reflected on the emotional support received from castmates ("angels'") after digesting on set heavy subject matter injecting reenactments of 1921 Tulsa Massacre and the murder of Emmett Till. 

 In 2020 Vice TV docuseries Raised In The System he sheds tears (see 40:33) while exploring the depth of child trauma and abuse that mirrored his own. When They See Us (2018) finds him revisiting 80s New York City's race relations as Bobby McCray---a father bamboozled by police during the Central Park Jogger incident  who makes his innocent teenaged son confess to a crime he didn't commit. banishing him to years of juvenile incarceration.

The film roles took a toll on Williams' psyche prompting a mental concession: "the mind doesn't know when I'm faking on set or whether I'm going through it." 

In recent years, he'd pursue therapy and became a mental health advocate.

Molestation, physical abuse, me-too moments, and other personal traumas ignited substance abuse that he battled for years. During his Wire days, he lived in a Newark dope house and squandered his earnings on drugs. In between coke binges, Williams' work ethic remained intact during his portrayal of arguably the greatest character in the history of television.

 Even still, he pushed the envelope further. In the Viceland TV Black Market series, Willliams journeys to Texas and LA to explore the dangers of the "lean" epidemic (("The Lean Scene"). His final film Body Brokers also dealt with addiction themes.

When Michael K. Williams succumbed over Labor Day weekend, a curtain closed on one of the most remarkable second acts ever. His social media tag was a nod to his hard-earned come-up. Now it reads like an epitaph etched in stone: Brooklyn Boy Makes Good.