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Film: A Lost Harlem Soirée Brings Black History Back to Life
In Once Upon a Time in Harlem, Renaissance giants gather to laugh, argue and tell the stories only they could tell — and a family of documentarians brings them to us.
Courtesy NEON
Imagine you took a time machine back to 1972 to attend an exclusive cocktail party in the storied New York City neighborhood of Harlem. The who’s who guest list includes writers, artists, musicians, thespians, historians and activists who made their mark during the Harlem Renaissance — a fruitful creative period that lasted roughly from 1910 to 1930.
That’s the sophisticated-lady setting of the Oscar-contending documentary Once Upon a Time in Harlem, in theaters now. Filmed at jazz titan Duke Ellington’s tony uptown townhome, the film invites viewers to be a fly on the wall in the rooms where this reunion of elders happened. Ellington was reportedly ill at the time of the shoot (he died two years later, in 1974), but his sister Ruth was present, along with lively attendees like poet Countee Cullen’s widow, Ida Mae Cullen; actor Leigh Whipper; journalist George Schuyler; painter Aaron Douglas; and pioneering librarians Regina Andrews and Jean Blackwell Hutson, who fill the space with delightful debate and spirited storytelling.
As the film’s synopsis sums it up, “For four hours, this extraordinary group — many of whom had not seen each other in fifty years — reminisced, critiqued, argued, laughed and drank while wrestling with their place in a rapidly shifting cultural landscape.” And during this critical time in our history, when Black history and Black excellence are being erased and diminished, it’s imperative that we preserve and shine a light on the legacy of the luminaries who came before us. That’s what’s so vital and urgent about this thoughtful film, spearheaded by acclaimed independent filmmaker and writer William Greaves and completed a decade after his death by his son, director David Greaves (who was a young cameraman on the 1972 shoot), and his granddaughter, producer Liani Greaves.
While plenty of lighthearted moments are captured throughout the award-winning film, they are juxtaposed with sobering ones, like cheeky composer Eubie Blake explaining that he never offered his hand to a white man first to avoid being snubbed, and stylish, high-society journalist Gerri Major recalling when a white man spat on her at a Harlem hot spot.
Sisters spoke by phone with producer Liani Greaves about what the film means to her and her family’s legacy, its potential cultural impact and what we, as an eager audience, can expect. This interview has been edited for clarity.
A Family Legacy, Brought to the Big Screen
Courtesy NEON
How did the idea come about to finish your grandfather William Greaves’s film?
It was always in process. This was something that [my grandfather] had been returning to for about 50 years. You know, before he passed away, this was what he was working on. [Then] the mission of my grandmother [Louise Archambault Greaves] was to make the archive available to the world, to the people. She went to the Ford Foundation and got money to restore the film footage. And when [my grandmother] passed away, [my father and I] took it up. We realized that it was a movie, and my dad could make it. So that’s what we did.
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What did that feel like for you, as the producer, to pick up the torch and get the film to the finish line?
It felt heavy, and it was also an honor to carry forward my grandfather’s legacy and his work in the world. This [work] in particular, because the ancestors in the film are just so moving. You feel this kind of responsibility to them.
What obstacles do you think your grandfather faced in not being able to finish the film? And what obstacles did you and your father face in trying to finish it?
Well, my dad always says that my grandfather couldn’t make the film because he had to be in it, and we had to bring him into the story. It was as much his story as anything else. So we had to remove that dimension of him being the creator, and then have us sort of observing him. And then, thinking about the obstacles we faced, we definitely had our challenges around money and how to tell the story. Because there were like six hours’ worth of film footage from three different cameras. That’s a lot of footage that my dad had to go through and understand how to craft a movie out of it. I think that was the biggest challenge: figuring out what needed to be in the film and what didn’t.
Did you also face challenges with people not getting the idea or thinking the story was important?
Yes, we had comments from people who said, “Nobody wants to see a bunch of old people.” Yep. And people said, “It’s just a bunch of people yelling at each other. Where’s the story in there?” [But] most people were fascinated by it. Like every good vision, that’s how you weed out who’s going to be with you and who’s not.
As a Black woman in her 50s, what does it mean to you to produce this project at this stage in your life and career?
[It means] everything. This project gave all of us on the creative team an opportunity to really explore and expand what we could do. My father is turning 80 this year, and this is his first feature film. This is the first feature film that I’ve ever produced. That’s what the project asked for, and it helped all of us grow. For me, it’s wonderful to see that I’m limitless and that I’m really powerful. And I’m incredibly creative. It helps me to sit in my talent and then allow myself to explore and be as creative as I possibly can.
What would you like audiences to take away from it?
There’s a quote in the film [from] my grandfather’s writing — he was a very spiritual person. The quote says, “In an effort of co-creation, I propose to create a series of great films on great people, all of whom are metaphors, creations of the Godhead.”
I want people to understand, as they are watching the film, that these people were not accidents of history, and neither are we. In the same way, so many people in the film are like, “We didn’t know we were in the middle of a renaissance. We were just doing what we do,” I want people to have that experience, to recognize that we are part of history, that we are right now in the middle of our own awakening, our own renaissance. That’s kind of how this film continues, how this story continues, and audiences are playing an active part in this. So it is a co-creation across our family, across generations and across time. I want people to come away feeling like they are part of history and that we’re creating it right now, in this moment.
What are some moments in the film that stand out for you?
Oh gosh, I have so many. Of course, Ida Mae Cullen [saying], “Let me say something!” You know, she’s just trying to make her points throughout the entire thing. And every time you watch the film, you’re going to notice something different. I call it the kiki corner with “the young ones” — [visual artist] Romare Bearden and [painter] Ernest Crichlow are in the corner, and they’re kind of, like, shading somebody, one of the scholars who’s in the film. So I find that really funny.
I love Gerri Major’s jewelry. Oh, and one that gets me all the time is when [Major] says, “There are some of us who are now old.” She’s basically saying that to count [elders out] would be a terrible mistake. And that gets me even in this moment, just repeating it, because she wants to be recognized and heard, and for her stories to be told.
Similar to the Oscar-winning documentary Summer of Soul, which unearthed something most people didn’t know about — the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival — do you hope this film will have the same kind of cultural impact?
Absolutely. My dad always says the film is like a trailer for the archive, because there’s so much in this footage that’s not even in the film. So I’m excited for people to [see it]. You can watch the film, and then every time you hear a name or hear about something that happened, you can study it. So much of my learning about the Harlem Renaissance and the fact that these people existed came from just watching the film.
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