Denzel Washington: God Body by Sheldon Taylor

 

Man gives awards. God gives reward. Denzel Washington’s words are both ethereal and emancipating. Transparency and truth are his testimony, finally casting off the cloak of public perfection long shadowing his career.

Long devoted, Washington’s faith has increasingly taken a front and center stage position as he slowly winds down an acting career spanning nearly five decades across TV, film, and stage. His past is illustrious, but it’s his beatific future that he’s anticipating.

At 70, traces of Sidney Poitier’s regal restraint still remain. In the past, he wielded his high wattage grin like a singular weapon: gracefully fending off critics and dazzling fans. Now it's flashes of Washington’s Money Earnin’ Mount Vernon roots that are roaring to the surface these days: Washington boxes out interviewers with direct frankness and confronts out-of-pocket paparazzi. 

Washington's spirituality grounds him, but he's still a live wire. 

Instead of high fashion curated by stylists, Washington dons running sneakers and jeans at movie press runs and red-carpet events: normality over formality. 

In his latest role in Spike Lee's "Highest 2 Lowest." Washington masterfully plays David King, a record exec from the streets residing in a de-luxe Brooklyn in the sky---recalls edgy characters of the actor's past: streetwise convict Jake Shuttlesworth ("He Got Game"), cocky jazz man Bleek Gilliam ("Mo’Betta Blues"), and villainous cop Alonzo ("Training Day").

Like arthritic and bewildered Frank Lucas ("American Gangster") released after decades in prison---King ponders his plight that's concealed by a confident grin and brief tears ("a summer cold") that give way to his signature palsy-like frown (imitated by countless comedians), revealing his despair. 

Beneath the flashy jewels, luxury cars, and fly suits, King’s veneer is humanly blemished: His necktie is askew. His shirt’s rumpled, and his collar is crooked. King’s anchromism shines like his cufflinks---he’s leery of AI, oblivious to social media’s impact. Frustrated with police incompetence, he fumbles the name of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit spin-off show (“you watch SUV don’t you?”)

Like Black athletes hailed for physical gifts instead of aptitude, Hollywood continuously mistook Washington's theatrical skill for pedestrian ease. Powerful portrayals of redemptive characters like imprisoned boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter ("The Hurricane"), South African freedom fighter Steven Biko ("Cry Freedom"), and Malcolm X were overlooked at the Oscars.

So were ones like the explosive Poitierish Ron Hunter ("The Crimson Tide") and Lincoln Rhymes ("The Bone Collector"), a quadruplegic detective solving crimes while confined to a hospital bed. 

In recent years, Washington confessed to being affected by these industry slights, hiding disappointment in public but drowning it in a bottomless wine glass in private---yet never sinking to the depths of his "A Soldier's Story" co-star Howard Rollins, Jr., a brilliant Black actor whose gifts evoked Poitier and anticipated Washington's. Their careers briefly overlapped before Rollins' promising career was unraveled by personal demons and substance abuse. 

Denzel Washington is the joy who would be king. 

Like Moses, he wandered in the Hollywood wilderness for decades before achieving movie star status. No longer preoccupied with putting points on the board---he’s ok with being as old spiritual goes: in the number. And that’s just fine.