Little Marvin’s Amazon series, Them, ignited immediate and intense reactions upon its release, largely due to its unflinching depiction of racist violence experienced by a Black family in 1950s America. While the series as a whole has sparked crucial conversations about the portrayal of Black trauma in entertainment, one character in particular has become a focal point of discussion and discomfort: Da Tap Dance Man.
Portrayed by Jeremiah Birkett, Da Tap Dance Man is a jarring manifestation of blackface minstrelsy, appearing as a tormenting figure to Henry Emory (Ashley Thomas). This character is not merely a historical artifact; he is a deeply unsettling presence, embodying a twisted reflection of self-loathing and the insidious nature of internalized racism. Birkett’s performance is a raw nerve, a deliberate provocation that forces viewers to confront the grotesque history of anti-Black caricature.
In a revealing interview, Birkett discussed the complexities of taking on such a controversial role, the intentions behind the character, and the explosive reaction Them has provoked. This exploration delves into the unsettling creation of Da Tap Dance Man, the nuanced performance that brought him to life, and the vital conversations he ignites about race, representation, and the enduring legacy of blackface in American culture.
The Inception of a Nightmare: Crafting Da Tap Dance Man
For Birkett, the pervasive nature of racism meant that the imagery of blackface, while shocking, wasn’t entirely foreign. As he stated, “It’s hard to actually pinpoint any moment when any of these horrific things were experienced for the first time, because it’s kind of all there at birth.” This lifelong exposure to racism informed his understanding of the deep-seated pain and historical weight that Da Tap Dance Man embodies.
Despite the inherent controversy, Birkett felt no hesitation in accepting the role. He recognized the opportunity to move beyond stereotypical portrayals often demanded of Black actors, as satirized in films like Hollywood Shuffle. “It wasn’t any of that here,” Birkett emphasized, distinguishing Them‘s approach from reductive caricatures. He saw the potential to imbue Da Tap Dance Man with depth, stating, “I felt like I was capable of breathing actual life into this character, not making him a Hollywood Shuffle stereotype, but giving him three dimensions.”
This commitment to dimensionality was crucial because Da Tap Dance Man exists in a liminal space – both unreal, as a manifestation of Henry’s psyche, and horrifyingly real, as a symbol of historical and ongoing racism. Birkett navigated this paradox by focusing on the character’s inner turmoil. “I wanted to show his pain, his anger, his frustration, the sorrow behind this blackface, behind this minstrel costume,” he explained. His goal was to ensure viewers saw Da Tap Dance Man not as a simple caricature, but as “the historic pain and anger and sorrow that African Americans go through historically, and are going through right now.”
From Judy Garland to James Earl Jones: Finding Inspiration in Darkness
Birkett’s nuanced performance wasn’t solely derived from the script. He immersed himself in research, delving into the history of minstrel shows and blackface performances. A surprising source of inspiration came from an unexpected place: Judy Garland’s blackface performance in the film Everybody Sing. This unsettling discovery, particularly Garland’s rendition of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” in blackface, sparked a crucial understanding of the character’s creepiness. “Judy Garland has these very specific, interesting body movements. And then when you layer the blackface and the costume on top of that, it both creeped me out and angered me,” Birkett recalled. This unsettling blend of creepiness and anger became a touchstone for his portrayal.
Further inspiration was drawn from James Earl Jones’s powerful performance in The Great White Hope. Birkett referenced a specific scene where Jones’s character, Jack Jefferson, a boxer forced to perform in minstrel shows after being stripped of his title, embodies a simmering rage beneath a forced smile. This scene, where Jefferson’s dance evolves into a defiant stomp, resonated deeply with Birkett. It illustrated “finding ways to stand up for yourself, finding ways to fight back, but still having to do that dance, having to put on that happy face.” This duality – the forced performance masking profound anger – became central to Birkett’s understanding of Da Tap Dance Man.
The collaborative dynamic with Ashley Thomas, who played Henry Emory, was also vital. Birkett emphasized, “the work that he was doing, it basically completed me, and the collaborative effort between the two of us, it really allowed me to bring Da Tap Dance Man home.” Their performances are intrinsically linked, with Da Tap Dance Man acting as a grotesque manifestation of Henry’s internal struggles and his perception of how the racist world views him.
The Physicality of Pain: Embodying the Caricature
Birkett meticulously crafted the physicality of Da Tap Dance Man, aiming for a theatricality that underscored the character’s artificiality and performative nature. This theatricality, however, was “filtered through a very, very angry, very, very frustrated and pained place.”
He described the character’s movements as “theatrical movements,” consciously exaggerated and unsettling. This physicality is not simply about mimicking minstrel show tropes; it’s about conveying the forced performance of Black identity under racist oppression. Da Tap Dance Man’s tap dancing, therefore, becomes a distorted, painful dance of survival and suppressed rage.
The transformative costume and makeup, designed by Mari-An Ceo and Howard Berger respectively, were integral to Birkett’s embodiment of the character. He recounted the powerful experience of his first costume fitting: “they put Da Tap Dance Man on my body, and this was a complete collaborative effort.” The visual impact of the costume, combined with the blackface makeup, was immediately transformative.
During this fitting, Birkett began to experiment with movement, tapping into the character’s physicality. As he moved into a hallway and began to tap dance, the reaction from the production team was profound. “People started to come out of their offices — all part of the production — and then I looked up and saw people from every department with stunned faces.” This visceral reaction underscored the unsettling power of the Da Tap Dance Man visual, even within the context of a horror production.
Navigating a “Content Warning”: Responsibility and Impact
The very presence of Da Tap Dance Man necessitates a “content warning” at the beginning of episodes in which he appears. This acknowledgment of the character’s potentially triggering nature highlights the delicate balance between artistic expression and responsible representation.
Birkett acknowledged the weight of portraying such a loaded image. He understood that Da Tap Dance Man is “a walking content warning,” embodying the most extreme and disturbing aspects of racial caricature. This awareness informed his approach to the role, emphasizing the need for sensitivity and a clear understanding of the project’s goals.
Despite his typically jovial on-set demeanor, Birkett recognized the need for a different approach while in costume as Da Tap Dance Man. “I had to constantly remind myself that I was in this costume, because I would sometimes forget. And we wanted to keep focus on the gravity of what we were doing.” He understood that the image was “not cute, and it’s not fun,” necessitating a constant awareness of the character’s symbolic weight.
This seriousness extended to on-set protocols. While Birkett didn’t detail specific rules, he noted that the production was “extremely sensitive and cognizant of what we were doing.” Concerns about casual selfies or trivializing the image were implicitly addressed by the overall atmosphere of respect and gravity surrounding the portrayal of such sensitive material.
Beyond “Pop Culture Exposure”: The Real-World Resonance of Da Tap Dance Man
Birkett recognizes that Da Tap Dance Man is not a character destined for celebratory “pop culture exposure” in the vein of Freddy Krueger or Pennywise. He understands the inherent limitations in celebrating a figure rooted in such a painful and offensive history. “This isn’t Candyman. This isn’t Freddy Krueger. This is coming from a real, historic, horrific situation, that real people had to deal with, and real people had to struggle through.”
This distinction is crucial. Da Tap Dance Man’s power lies not in entertainment but in confrontation. He is designed to be deeply uncomfortable, to force viewers to grapple with the visual language of racism and its enduring psychological impact. Birkett embraced this discomfort, recognizing that the character’s true achievement lies in its ability to provoke dialogue and reflection, rather than simple entertainment.
The series as a whole, and Da Tap Dance Man in particular, have faced backlash for their unflinching depiction of Black pain. Some critics and viewers question the need to continually revisit such traumatic narratives. Birkett, however, views this confrontation as essential. “Honestly, I don’t have a problem with the backlash. I think everybody’s perspective is valid. My perspective is that I don’t think that these stories should ever be put away.”
He argues that erasing these painful histories is more dangerous than confronting them. “If we put them away, we don’t have anything to draw from. We don’t have any reference.” He connects the historical context of Them directly to contemporary realities, referencing the George Floyd murder trial and ongoing instances of police violence against Black people. “This stuff isn’t going away, so we shouldn’t stop telling these stories, because it is our history. It is who we are. It’s our past. It’s our present. And we’re fighting really hard by continuing to tell these stories to hopefully not let it be our future.”
Da Tap Dance Man, in his terrifying and unsettling form, serves as a potent reminder of this history. He is not a monster to be enjoyed, but a specter to be confronted. Jeremiah Birkett’s courageous and nuanced performance ensures that this confrontation is not only unavoidable but deeply necessary. Through Da Tap Dance Man, Them compels viewers to confront the enduring legacy of blackface and the ongoing struggle for racial justice in America.
