American Fable is ambitious, maybe too much so sometimes, but there's an intense pleasure in the boldness of the film's style.
"Dave Chappelle's Block Party" is a fairly disorganized film about a fairly disorganized concert, redeemed by the good feeling. Chappelle sheds like a sunbeam on every scene. I came away from the movie with three observations: (1) I find a lot of rap nihilistic and negative, but the musicians featured here seemed accessible and positive; (2) Nevertheless I was pathetically grateful when Lauryn Hill and the Fugees sang "Killing Me Softly With His Song" and when many of the others sang what used to be called songs. Thank God for melody. (3) Dave Chappelle appears to be a nice man, in addition to being a funny one, and the buried message in this movie may be: "Can I sign a $50 million contract and still remain the person I am happy to be?"
The movie is a documentary about Chappelle's sudden inspiration to hold a rap and comedy concert at a free block party in Brooklyn. The location would be kept secret to avoid a mob scene, and the audience would include people from the block and others who were bussed in. And by bussed in, I mean from Dayton, Ohio, which is about 20 miles from Yellow Springs, where Chappelle lives. The film opens with him handing out tickets good for a bus ride, a hotel room, food and admission to the concert. He offers them to the nice lady who runs the shop where he buys his cigarettes, and to a couple of young men on the street, and to a man who says he is too deaf to hear the music, and then, in an expansive mood, he invites the entire Central State College Marching Band. (The two young men from Ohio stand on a rooftop and say now they really feel they're in New York, because in the movies everybody is always standing on rooftops.)
That some of the lucky ticket winners are white and even middle-aged is part of the point: He wants them to come to a rap concert in Brooklyn, and he wants it to be a rap concert where everybody will feel at home. In this connection the musicians do not reflect a gangsta image, use lyrics that are not particularly hostile or angry, and employ the N word, the F word and the MF word only about every 20 words, instead of every fifth word.
On the stage is an all-star cast, including Mos Def, Erykah Badu, Kanye West, Talib Kweli, Dead Prez, Jill Scott, the Roots, Bilal, and Lauryn Hill with the reunited Fugees. If I told you I knew who all of them were, I'd be lying. The women (Badu, Scott, Hill) seem to please the crowd more than the men, maybe because their material leans more toward jazz and R&B. Mos Def is a surprise, because a day earlier I'd seen him co-starring with Bruce Willis in "16 Blocks," a movie where his character talks incessantly in a high-pitched screech; on stage with Dave, he's got an entirely different personality, a different voice even, and seems cool, authoritative, likable. Kanye West you know about, and he wears his superstardom lightly.