Why it matters actors are aged up in ‘Judas and the Black Messiah’

Judas and the Black Messiah revolves around two powerhouse performances. As Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, Daniel Kaluuya captures the magnetism of a man who just might be able to change the world, while LaKeith Stanfield, as FBI informant Bill O’Neal, channels the visceral desperation of a man who might sell that first man out. They’re the kind of roles that make headlines, level up careers, and collect awards, and it’s hard to imagine anyone else doing them better, so perfect is the casting.

Except in one regard: These actors aren’t even close to the right age. And that makes a subtle but significant difference in how we as viewers experience this story, keeping us from feeling the fullest weight of the tragedy these characters are headed toward — and altering our perception of the world we ourselves live in.

In real life, Hampton was 21 when he died, a decade younger than Kaluuya is now. O’Neal was a little younger, 20 to Stanfield’s 29 — and only 17 when he was first approached by the FBI. Comparable gaps also exist for characters like fellow victim Mark Clark (22), played by Jermaine Fowler (32), and Hampton’s girlfriend Deborah Johnson (19), played by Dominique Fishback (29). But you’d never glean any of this from watching the film, which makes little reference to the characters’ ages. You’d assume all of them were in their late 20s and early 30s, because that’s the age the actors are — when in reality, they’d have been closer in age to actors like Caleb McLaughlin (19), Marcus Scribner (21), or Jacob Latimore (24). 

Such a gap between an actor’s age and a character’s isn’t unusual in Hollywood, and Judas and the Black Messiah isn’t even a particularly egregious example. Last year’s Mank had 62-year-old Gary Oldman playing two decades younger, while last month’s The Dig had 35-year-old Carey Mulligan playing two decades older. (The man 58-year-old Ralph Fiennes plays opposite her? He was around 51 in real life — five years younger than the woman Mulligan is portraying.) 

Oh, and let’s not forget The Trial of the Chicago 7, which had 49-year-old Sacha Baron Cohen playing 33-year-old Abbie Hoffman, 41-year-old Jeremy Strong playing 31-year-old Jerry Rubin, and 69-year-old Michael Keaton playing 42-year-old former U.S. attorney general Ramsey Clark.  

(Hampton pops up as a character in this one, too, and he’s played by Kelvin Harrison Jr., who is 26.)

To some extent, it doesn’t matter that much if, say, Mulligan is the wrong age for the character she’s playing in The Dig. Most audiences will have no idea how old her historical counterpart was in 1939, and they probably wouldn’t care even if they did. But these disparities can impact how we read a film even when we can’t quite pinpoint them, introducing odd imbalances (Oldman isn’t crushing on a much younger woman in Mank — he and 34-year-old Amanda Seyfried are playing the same age) or reinforcing stale assumptions (like that authority figures need look like Keaton).

In the case of Judas and the Black Messiah, the casting makes it easy to lose sight of how young these characters truly were. Hampton’s assassination would have been horrific no matter if it happened when he was 21 or 31 or 61. But Judas‘ casting prevents us from fully processing the heart-wrenching fact that Hampton was cut down not in the prime of his adulthood, but at the very beginning of it, when he was just a few years out of boyhood.

Moreover, it seems to unnecessarily muddy the dynamic between O’Neal and his FBI handler, Roy Mitchell (played by Jesse Plemons, 32). In the movie, O’Neal recounts via voiceover that he saw Mitchell as a role model, which doesn’t really scan with the dynamic we’re seeing play out. Sure, O’Neal seems dazzled by Mitchell’s wining and dining and impressed by his nice house, but there’s no sense that he’s looking up to Mitchell in that way. Replay that scene with the knowledge that O’Neal is supposed to be much younger, though, and it’s easier to understand why he might have been so impressionable. O’Neal’s arc, already a dark one, takes on an even sharper, sadder edge.

O’Neal and Hampton may not literally have been children as most of this was unfolding, but in a society already too eager to treat Black kids as adults, it’s hard not to wonder how Judas and the Black Messiah might have played differently with younger leads. Think of how tender Ashton Sanders (who is also in Judas and the Black Messiah) looked as a teenage Chiron in Moonlight, which was shot around his 20th birthday. Or how achingly vulnerable Stanfield himself seemed in Short Term 12, which came out when he was about 21. 

Fruitvale Station hits all the harder because 22-year-old Oscar Grant was played by a babyfaced and buoyant Michael B. Jordan, 25 at the time, while The Hate U Give‘s coming-of-age storyline emphasizes the youthful innocence of its protagonist, played by then-20-year-old Amandla Stenberg. On the flip side, John Lewis’ involvement in the 1965 voting march makes an even stronger impression in Selma because he looks so young — he’s portrayed by Stephan James, who was around 21 at the time. 

The characters of Judas and the Black Messiah, on the other hand, appear firmly grown up. The film encourages us to appreciate its characters’ power and their place in history, but not their youth. It’s possible that’s a tradeoff worth making. The movie as it exists is brilliant and moving, thanks in no small part to Kaluuya and Stanfield’s abilities to play their characters as ordinary people as well as towering historical figures. We can’t know how a different version with other actors might have turned out, because no such version exists. But the casting choices do, in some small way, make for a less complete picture of who these people were, and who they could have been if things had not turned out the way they did.

Judas and the Black Messiah encourages us to appreciate its characters’ power and their place in history, but not their youth.

At the same point, they quietly reinforce the ageist notion that teens and 20somethings — today’s Gen Z — are not to be taken seriously. The idea rears its ugly head every time activists like Greta Thunberg, Mari Copeny, or the Parkland survivors speak up, only to be told they’re too naive or inexperienced to understand how the world works — when actuality, young people have been spearheading movements for social change throughout history. The same idealism and energy that perplex older generations can be assets, as pointed out by immigrant rights organizer Luz Chavez at a Mashable Social Good panel last year: “We need young people because we bring bold ideas, fresh ideas, passion, and courage to these spaces.” 

While Hampton’s age certainly wasn’t the only reason he was able to make the impact he did — and nor can O’Neal’s be blamed entirely for the choices he made — it seems reasonable to suggest that age might have been, at the very least, a factor in their stories. If some of Hampton’s intensity stemmed from his youthful spirit, or if O’Neal was more easily manipulated because the FBI got to him when he was just a kid. 

Films like Judas and the Black Messiah aren’t the sole reason young people’s voices are dismissed, and casting them with more age-appropriate actors can’t be the only solution, either. But films can serve as a step in the right direction, gradually reshaping our assumptions about what activism or leadership can look like, and what young people are capable of. 

Fred Hampton was an activist ambitious enough to lead one of the most prominent political organizations of the civil rights era, effective enough to unite Chicago’s oppressed across racial lines, and influential enough to be targeted by the FBI as a potential “Black messiah” who could bring about unprecedented change. He was also 21. And it’s worth remembering that. 

Judas and the Black Messiah is now streaming on HBO Max.