Film Review: “MLK/FBI” Explores the Heroes and Villains of the Civil Rights Movement
"I think this entire episode represents the darkest part of the Bureau's history," former FBI director James Comey says during his interview in Sam Pollard's documentary MLK/FBI.
What Comey is referring to is an anonymous letter that the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) sent to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s wife, Coretta Scott King. Part of a covert operation to stop the civil rights leader, the letter condemned King as a "filthy, abnormal animal" who conducted "adulterous acts." Considered one of the most detestable things the FBI had ever done in American history, at least in the eyes of Comey, the letter writer threatened King that they would expose his supposed extramarital affairs to the American public unless he killed himself. Cruel but not unusual for the storied federal law enforcement agency, this letter revealed how far the FBI would go to "protect" the United States. Like other unsavory topics in American history, educators are less likely to teach this topic in class. Thankfully, Pollard gives viewers a crash course on the FBI's antagonistic relationship with King in his meticulously detailed but harrowing documentary MLK/FBI.
Based on the book The FBI and Martin Luther King, Jr.: From "Solo" to Memphis by David Garrow, MLK/FBI is an in-depth look into the FBI's massive surveillance campaign to take down the revered civil rights leader. The documentary opens on King as he delivers his most iconic "I Have a Dream" speech at The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in Washinton, D.C. Though the march puts the civil rights movement into the international spotlight, this event alerts notorious FBI director J. Edgar Hoover. A man dedicated to protecting the U.S from so-called deviants, Hoover believes King is a threat to national security due to his growing popularity as a Black spiritual leader and, most notably, his unproven ties to the Communist Party.
Two days after the march, the head of FBI Domestic Intelligence, William "Bill" Sullivan, sends an internal memo out to his peers that described King as "the most dangerous Negro in the future of this Nation" and that they must use every resource to stop him. So with the blessing of Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy, the FBI begins to monitor King and his associates. The Bureau uses every tool at its disposal. They wiretap King’s phones, plant informants at his headquarters, and even send vicious threats to his wife. Unfortunately for King but fortunately for viewers, this is where the film gets interesting. With the use of recently declassified documents, newspaper clippings, and archived footage, noted documentarian Sam Pollard takes a nearly forgotten story and turns it into a sleek political thriller.
It may shock some viewers that the FBI went to great lengths to take down King. But, Pollard points out in his film that most white Americans in the 1960s saw King as a threat to their way of life. Sure, King’s activism moved people worldwide, but the reverend faced alot of opposition back at home. The hatred was so vicious, some of the counter-protesters dubbed him as Martin “Lucifer” King. While at the same time, many white Americans saw Hoover as a hero due to the FBI’s positive standing in the mainstream media. Films and television shows like The FBI and Walk a Crooked Mile cast the federal agency as heroes and everyone who opposed them as villains. And even though King privately met Hoover to ease tensions, the public more or less made up their minds about the civil rights leader. To the delight of Hoover, most white Americans saw King as a political radical, and at worst, a menace.
Along with its inside look into King and Hoover’s intense relationship, Pollard interviews several experts and luminaries in the documentary, including but not limited to Yale University Professor and author of the book G-Man: J. Edgar Hoover and the American Century Beverly Gage, former King advisor Clarence Jones, and retired FBI agent Charles Knox. Though these talking heads give insight into the FBI’s surveillance of King’s private life, the documentary’s central focus is its massive collection of archival sources. By emphasizing the source material, Pollard encourages us to see how King, and to a certain extent, Hoover, saw the world. Thanks to the director and his team, we get to watch King risk his physical and mental wellbeing as he fights for racial equality, all while the FBI secretly bugs his hotel rooms.
But the most notable thing about the film is that Pollard raises several interesting questions about the FBI’s treatment of King. For example, why did the FBI use all their resources to monitor a Nobel Peace Prize winner, a man who dedicated his life to end racial segregation yet did nothing to stop white supremacists from terrorizing Black people? The answer: structural racism. According to the film, 50% of the American public in the 1960s supported Hoover, while 20% supported King. This revelation may be surprising, but this is the same kind of treatment many people of color face in positions of power today. Just look at how the media viciously treats political leaders like United States Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ilhan Omar. Or better yet, look at how Middle America slanders Colin Kaepernick for taking a knee but barely holds the Capitol rioters accountable for their actions.
Sometimes the people we cast as our heroes and villains are not who we think they are. Powerful, thought-provoking, and detailed in its execution, MLK/FBI proves that American institutions will do whatever it takes to keep the status quo, even if it means casting a civil rights icon as the bad guy.
