Picture this: it’s an overcast day in August 1972. You’re at a cocktail party at Duke Ellington’s townhouse in Harlem. As you awkwardly hold your glass of punch, you’re drowned in cacophonous conversation about art, politics, and society during one of the most vibrant intellectual and creative movements of the modern era. This is the experience of William and David Greaves’ Once Upon a Time in Harlem, an immersive and masterfully rendered documentary that presents a living, breathing oral history of the Harlem Renaissance. Watching it feels like unearthing treasure.
The party was organized by filmmaker William Greaves, who invited artists and intellectuals of the period to reflect on and interrogate their experiences while he captures it all with 16mm. The project was left unfinished at the time of William Greaves’ death in 2014, but his family endeavored to complete the film, and it’s safe to say he would be proud of their efforts. His son David, who was one of the camera operators at the event, has done a marvelous job inheriting direction.
The handheld footage and lively editing reproduces the energy of being at a bustling cocktail party, bouncing from one conversation to another, hearing a snippet of one interaction before being pulled into a larger discussion. The two-dozen-or-so contemporaries, some of whom haven’t seen each other in half a century, reflect on the storied period in the early 20th century with invigorating candor and spontaneity. They remember and honor; they debate and contest with arguments that reach a simmer but never boil over. There’s debate over the very concept of a retrospective as well as issues with the contemporary political vocabulary. And when things get too chaotic, William Greaves can be heard off-camera directing the conversation back to the topics at hand.
Like any artistic movement, parameters and meaning are fraught and contentious. Poet Arna Bontemps describes the period as “a prism reflecting all of the Black experience from the beginnings to the present.” In a one-on-one interview, Bontemps recites his poem “The Day-Breakers,” which he wrote about the very same people he was rubbing elbows with that day. If there’s anyone that steals the show, it’s painter, writer, and self-described dilettante Richard Bruce Nugent, who can always be found quite easily in his red turtleneck. (A deliberate choice? We’ll never know.) Nugent offers the nugget that while one lives through a period, they don’t think about it from a greater historical context and so there’s not much for him to say—a sentiment he undercuts as the film goes on.
David Greaves moves meticulously from the larger party to these smaller conversations, at times utilizing split-screens, while offering context for the conversations via archival footage. As the photographer James van der Zee plucks a few notes on Duke Ellington’s piano, we’re treated to selections of his photography that provide a contemporaneous look at the neighborhood’s denizens before cutting back to the same subjects, albeit with a few more wrinkles and greys.
The decision to hold the gathering at Ellington’s townhouse is an inspired choice (Ellington himself does not appear in the film). The stately space is a reflection of the importance and exploits of those populating it. At any given moment, you’ll have four or five living monuments of the era cradled in the frame by Ellington’s trophies and plaques. A more vital choice was when to hold this shindig. Everyone in attendance is well-spirited but also quite elderly. Langston Hughes, perhaps among the better-known names of the period, had died in 1967. The actor Leigh Whipper, who founded the Negro Actors Guild, made it to the party despite being in his 90s. If there was ever a time to get these people together, 1972 was a good call.
What results is a dense document of cultural history that includes just as many names of those not in attendance as there are on the guest list. I find it hard to believe anyone will walk away from Once Upon a Time in Harlem without a roster of people and work to Google upon getting home. Whether it’s the Modernist art of Aaron Douglas, the poetry of Countee Cullen, the aviator Herbert “The Black Eagle” Julien, or—my personal favorite—the mobster Casper Holstein, who used his less-than-scrupulous wealth to support much of the work produced at that time.
Van der Zee describes the event as “miles and miles of memories,” and the Greaves family clearly has much more they could have included. Thankfully, like any respectable movie, there’s bonus footage over the credits.
Once Upon a Time in Harlem premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival.