Diractors is an ongoing series in which Hassle writer Jack Draper examines films, new and old, whose directors are better known for their work in front of the camera.

This is the most vulnerable of all the films I’ve covered in this column so far. Imagine if Bob Fosse had acted in All That Jazz, or if Shia LaBeouf directed Honey Boy. As an audience, you’re unsure the difference all the roles filled by the same person would make in the end, yet Jo Jo Dancer can leave you like you have as complete an understanding of Pryor as he does of himself. In this instance, it’s the perfect example of a story told only by the actor. Their authorial voice can’t just be felt by writing and acting, but their story becomes a memoir. For Richard Pryor, maybe a eulogy. The tale “Show business is alluring but it’ll bring out the worst in you” is a tale as old as time, though it feels fresh for one of the most famous people of the ’80s and for someone who I don’t have much of a relationship with. Despite Pryor even acknowledging selflessness in the making of doc “film is a collaborative effort” there is no doubt Jo Jo Dancer is Richard’s story, as an open and incomplete wound. 

Pryor is upfront, using his diractorial debut as one from the heart, a haunting image of someone decorated with luxury and financial freedom in a spot of deep sadness. It’s quite famous that Pryor burns himself all over, which sends his body and mind into shock, so much so that his out-of-body experience is there to ponder “How did I get here” for the first time in his broken life. Seeing Pryor make a movie about his life means he is no longer Richard Pryor in this story, but “Jo Jo Dancer,” a kid growing up in an Ohio whorehouse. Despite this part being fictional, it’s here where Pryor enhances his upbringing by filming in his hometown of Peoria, Illinois. He is a quiet, honest kid who is in the periphery of his abusive dad and mom who are making ends meet, along with his grandmother (Carmen McCrae) in one scene that brings the movie to its most tender. Jo Jo finds himself in LA, where there’s love, drugs, and his big break in a nightclub. These scenes find Jo Jo at his most desperate and heartfelt. There is a great sequence where Pryor, dressed in drag, pulls out a fake pistol and tries to bluff the club’s Mafia owners into paying him his salary.

I don’t have much of a working knowledge of Richard Pryor’s demons and background, but the film doesn’t require you to know him. Jo Jo Dancer is for everyone, but most importantly for Richard, with the assumption of showing us his regrets through self-mythologization. Making his life into a narrative, his addiction comes from a need to fit in someplace, and with a name like Jo Jo Dancer, his place in the entertainment industry is almost fatalistic. New York Amsterdam News asked Pryor, “‘Why a Jo Jo Dancer?’ Was it a form of exorcism, did he want to do it for drama’s sake or did he hope to cop some awards?” Pryor replied, “I think I did it for two of those reasons. It was like an exorcism for me and a drama. I wanted to make a film as entertaining as it could be while telling a story that parallels my life. It was a film I had to do. There was nothing else I could do. I had to do this to go on with my life and do, hopefully, what I would consider to be some of the best work in my life from now on.”

It’s in the grand tradition of Hollywood being a black hole that commodifies talent for capital gain outside of your control, thus bringing out the worst in people. What we know as viewers of what this place can do to you writes itself, but it’s fascinating to watch Pryor diagnose himself in the moment in the ’80s. It’s hard to imagine this movie being made by someone else, even with Pryor’s involvement; he made the movie as a form of therapy when he knew his innocence was lost. Richard Pryor was his own worst enemy, to the point where the scenes of joyful stand-up are crowded by melancholy. Even though Richard loves being in front of an audience and making others happy, he doesn’t know how to be alone, and making this movie clearly helped him realize this. Pryor passed away at 65, too young when he had more wisdom and commentary to impart, but he was ready after a life of mistakes. 

Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling
1986
dir. Richard Pryor
97 min.

Now available on 4K and blu-ray from the Criterion Collection