The Harlem Trilogy has been a wild ride from start to finish, but 'Cool Machine' brings it all home in a blaze of colour, sound, and fury. Colson Whitehead's grand finale is as freewheeling as the hip-hop scene that defined 1980s New York City – think Run-DMC meets the streets of Manhattan.
The stakes are high, the action is relentless, but it's not just about the crime capers; this is a profound exploration of the city's social fabric, with Whitehead masterfully weaving together decades of turmoil. From the 1960s civil rights movement to the 'Fear City' era of the 1970s, we've seen it all in this trilogy – and now, with 'Cool Machine', we're plunged into the dirty, regenerative spirit of the 1980s.
Ray Carney's journey takes him from high-stakes heists to encounters with a subterranean community living beneath Manhattan, led by the self-styled 'Mayor Crotch'. It's a world where the hidden casualties of prosperity are the homeless individuals struggling to survive amidst the city's growing disparity. Whitehead presents scenarios that will leave you on the edge of your seat – from white and black criminals disputing ownership of a Jesse Owens Olympic medal, to African artefacts electrifying the East Village arts scene.
The nascent seeds of 21st-century cultural appropriation are also under scrutiny here, with Carney's director friend Zippo navigating the blurred lines between art and exploitation. As he transitions from shooting blaxploitation films uptown to collaborating with the arthouse crowd, you can't help but wonder: what does it mean to own a piece of someone else's culture?
Originally conceived as a more light-hearted diversion following his critically acclaimed works, 'The Underground Railroad' and 'The Nickel Boys', Whitehead's Harlem Trilogy has evolved into something much bigger. With 'Cool Machine', he delivers a sharp, ambitious commentary on New York's complex interplay of race, class, and culture – and reminds us that the city is as ever-changing as it is eternal.