Dave Chappelle's Block Party: Reviewed by Davis Rivera

In his 2006 documentary “Dave Chappelle’s Block Party,” director Michel Gondry presents the formulation, actualization, and jubilation felt before, after, and during a block party hosted by comedian Dave Chappelle and emphasizes the positive effects sound and music can have on people regardless of their race, sex, or personal outlook on life. Inspired by the popular 1973 film “Wattstax,” also a documentary chronicling a musical event, the film follows Chappelle as he realizes what he describes as “the concert I’ve always wanted to see” on the corner of Quincy and Downing Street in the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. Though the film doesn’t make the viewer aware of this, it’s important to note that at the time of this production, Chappelle had not yet made his decision to turn down the fifty million dollar deal to continue his hit sketch comedy show but, as a testament to his vastly adored ebullient personality, Chappelle never once shows any hint of weariness and, through an intense work ethic, is shown determined to witness his event without any hindrances, more for the audience’s sake than his own. It is soon clear to the viewer that this is exactly what Chappelle accomplished and, with the help of Gondry, avoided any unintentional “unheard melodies,” making the viewer fully aware of the music and enjoying the story as an added bonus.

Gondry begins the film with a fitting dedication to the late producer James D. Yancey, also known as J Dilla or Jay Dee. The viewer then hears the sound of someone attempting to start a car. In a highly inventive but seldom used editing technique notably perfected by the Hughes Brothers in their 2000 film “American Pimp,” each time the person off-screen attempts to start the car, a different title credit will appear on screen via a jump cut. A final abrupt jump cut reveals an old brown automobile which appears to have been manufactured in the early to mid-eighties sitting in front of a tennis court with its hood up being attended to by a younger man while an older man, presumably the man’s father, sits inside the car revving the engine. Even though we see this in a medium long shot, we get a firm glimpse of the old man as he humorously looks directly into the camera calling attention to the process of the film and no longer focusing on the state of the car. Chappelle takes this moment of easy distraction to walk up to the men, arrive at a crucial focal point and ask them various questions about the car. Knowing that he, as a well-known entertainer, cannot and will probably not be expected to be of any help, Chappelle steps away just as the faint sounds of a marching band are heard echoing in the distance. Through the use of this short burst of non-diegetic music, Gondry takes advantage of what he knows ahead of time will be one of the few narrative and non-concert related scenes and provides an excellent bit of background music that not only sustains the audience’s attention but also lends coherence to the scene as it focuses more closely on Chappelle who, one can determine, coincidentally, has begun using a megaphone to speak to the old man about what he has done to help get the car started. Also, by using the marching band, Gondry makes the viewer appreciate the unique tonal qualities of their talents and prepares them for their more productive part they play later in the film.

The dominant sound of the marching band at the end of the car repair scene eventually carries over into the next scene forming the aural equivalent of a dissolve, and reveals Chappelle against the same tennis court backdrop as earlier but without the brown car in front of him. Instead, we see the full marching band behind him no longer increasing in volume but playing at the same tempo as Chappelle, again with his megaphone, introduces each performer that will be at his event culminating in himself, which he emphasizes by doing a highly stylized and well choreographed dance in deep focus blended effortlessly to match the higher notes played by the marching band behind him. Like the inventive title credits seen before, Gondry has crafted a whimsical way of having the names Chappelle enunciates come flying out of the megaphone in saturated colors and landing on the gate surrounding the tennis court behind Chappelle, emphasizing the brightness of his life now that he’s temporarily free from the restraint of his show and reminding the viewer that the concert is being performed during the summer, contributing to the aesthetic quality of the film and conveying very important information without even reaching the four minute mark.

Immediately after the celebratory dance has completed, a cutaway reveals Chappelle in presumably the green room, exclaiming loudly and fittingly, “it’s a celebration!” The well-informed viewer can’t help but notice that Chappelle has used the infamous intonation of his popular Rick James parody and should find this a pleasant surprise after learning, through various interviews, that Chappelle grew to disdain the voice. Gondry undoubtedly used this particular scene of Chappelle using the notable voice, with boisterous laugh included, to make the viewer aware of Chappelle’s current infectious love of life. Following this welcome burst of both non-diegetic and diegetic music, mixed with a loose-framed and bright mise-en-scene, is an extreme close-up of a brief prayer meeting before the concert begins, contrasting Common’s proclamations such as “they said it was supposed to rain but God, you’re letting your face show us that you want us here” with graphic matches such as the sun shining brightly above an antique building and the bright, shining faces of local residents on lawn chairs prepared to enjoy the event. This is also a prime example of the effects a voice-over can have on the audience. Hearing Common speak, in his calm, rhythmic voice about the blessings God has bestowed upon everyone, the soul and power that they’ve collectively formed, the messages they’re receiving about how important the day is and, in a humble closing, a thank you to Dave Chappelle for getting everyone together, while the sounds of Kanye West’s “Get ‘Em High” echo non-diegetically in the background and Gondry takes us on a virtual tour of the people, is affecting, encouraging audience identification with the people we see on screen, whether the viewer is religious or not.

Gondry pans over the top of the prayer meeting and arrives at a steady medium shot as Common closes and Chappelle begins his diatribe, in a voice-over, about how excited he is for the concert, how he’s always been a fan of the artists he’s gathered, and letting the viewer know this is the concert he’s always wanted to see. As he’s saying this Gondry emphasizes the actual process of passing time (albeit in a condensed form) by use a mini-montage collecting every performer that we’ll see later in the film; whether smiling, serious, or quixotic, Gondry has crafted each shot perfectly and joined them together by an appropriate shot transition. Shot transitions and using the always-effective sound bridge are what Gondry specializes in for the remainder of the film. Notably in a scene depicting Chappelle and Lil’ Cease as he reminisces about his deceased friend Christopher Wallace, also known as The Notorious B.I.G. or Biggie Smalls, and talks about the influence he, along with his group the Junior M.A.F.I.A., Jay-Z, and other artists associated with Brooklyn, have had on the entire world. Lil’ Cease closes with an important statement that, growing up, rap was the foundation that kept him, and many others, out of trouble and that he never let money get in the way of his relationships with other people, the major message of the film. As he finishes up with a last message that hip-hop was his world and to never let anything come between you, your friends and your vision, Gondry cuts to Dead Prez on the main stage as the first chords of “Hip Hop,” begin, complete with shots of a communal group of fists raised in the air in unison. Another excellent example of this technique occurs much later in the film when, for the first time thus far and a jarring contrast considering what the film is about, an elderly woman expresses her distaste for rap music, citing its foul language and ill-effects on children as examples. As she finishes, Gondry cuts to a close-up of Chappelle and Mos Def on stage performing two crude routines that make the lyrics of most of the artists performing at the event seem tame in comparison. This kind of contrast provides a rare moment where the viewer doesn’t know whether this makes the performers, Chappelle included, vulnerable to the criticism that the old woman has constructed or whether Gondry is trying to say that although the woman has a moot point, the music’s redeeming qualities should not let it be subjected to such overblown generalizations.

Though Gondry does takes advantage of the cornucopia of good music and performances available to him by exasperatingly cutting away from the performances frequently, wreaking havoc on the documentary’s rhythms and the power of the songs, he does manage to successfully use sound to complement the images onscreen, even when those images are abstract, such as the opening car sequence. Through establishing historical context, shaping the audience’s perception of space, defining character, shaping the emotional tenor of scenes and occasionally distancing the audience, Gondry has, in his own madcap way, showcased the five common functions of a film about music and crafted a feature that will be revisited for many years as a part comedy, part concert film, part avant-garde experiment full of joy and hope encompassing the state of our current civilization with a refreshing hint of optimistic patriotism.