Column: A new documentary on choreographer Alvin Ailey examines the difficult art of making history

Before his death in 1989 at the age of 58, choreographer and modern-dance giant Alvin Ailey accomplished many groundbreaking, boundary-busting things.

He helped establish modern dance as a popular art form capable of packing theaters and riveting audiences. His troupe, the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, was a global sensation. And in his signature dances — 1960’s “Revelations,” 1969’s “Masakela Language,” 1971’s “Cry” for the indelible Judith Jamison — he showcased Black history, Black experiences and Black bodies with passion, ferocity and a beauty that was blinding.

It was art, and it was revolution. And as director Jamila Wignot reveals in her remarkable documentary “Ailey,” being the man who changed the dance world forever was a cosmic blessing and a heartbreaking curse.

“Creation is a very lonely place. Lonely in the fact that nobody can help you,” dancer and choreographer George Faison says in the film. “He was possessed, and he had to serve that god.”

Wignot’s documentary, which aired on PBS’ “American Masters” series last month and is now available on multiple streaming services, moves with the grace and muscular power of an Alvin Ailey dancer. It covers Ailey’s many artistic achievements while also digging into the mental and emotional challenges of being a Black creator in a world that worshipped him as an artist but wasn’t always sure what to do with him as a person.

Through historical footage of Black life, archival interviews with Ailey and new interviews with such pivotal players as Jamison, choreographer Bill T. Jones and dancer Don Martin, “Ailey” follows its subject’s journey from his impoverished Texas childhood to being feted at the Kennedy Center Honors.

We see the boy who watched his neighbors dance their troubles away in local juke joints find joy and liberation with modern-dance pioneer Lester Horton and his racially integrated dance company. That young dancer became a budding choreographer on and off Broadway, and in 1958, he founded the company that would make him a known name the world over.

And thanks to the documentary’s treasure trove of rehearsal and performance footage, you don’t have to be a dance expert to see why Ailey and his company left leagues of stunned audiences in their wake.

Whether it is Jamison pouring her soul, skin and spirit into “Cry,” or the beautiful bloodletting that is “Memoria” (which Ailey choreographed after the sudden death of his friend and colleague Joyce Trisler), Wignot’s film is alive with movement and inspiration.

And speaking of spirit, Wignot interweaves Ailey’s life and dances with rehearsal footage from “Lazarus,” a searing 2018 piece that artist-in-residence Rennie Harris choreographed to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the Ailey’s company. The choreography is vital and vibrant, the dancers are young and focused, and Ailey’s heart is right there.

As she pays tribute to Ailey’s art, Wignot also takes a close, empathetic look at Ailey’s life, including the breakdown that sent him to a mental institution. What emerges is a rich, nuanced portrait of a man who was driven to create, even at the expense of his health and his personal life. A gay man who felt compelled to keep that part of himself under wraps.

A man whose status as a standard-bearer for Black artists everywhere did not leave much room for being human.

“Sometimes, your name becomes bigger than yourself,” says Carmen de Lavallade, who first danced with Ailey when they were both in Lester Horton’s troupe. “‘Alvin Ailey.’ Do you really know who that is or what it is? You see a name, but I don’t see a man.”

In “Ailey,” you see the vulnerable boy, the prodigious creator, the driven pioneer and the conflicted man. You also see the history he made, the artists he inspired, and the light that will never go out.

“Every time a dancer walks in,” Harris says, “there’s another piece of him being resurrected.”

“Ailey” is available on pbs.org through Feb. 8. It is also streaming on Hulu, Amazon Prime and other platforms.

Stephan James, left, and KiKi Layne appear in a scene from “If Beale Street Could Talk.”

(Tatum Mangus / Annapurna Pictures)

More recommended Black History Month viewing

(Check your favorite streaming service for details)

“Black Art: In the Absence of Light”: An illuminating 2021 documentary from Sam Pollard on the history of Black art in America and the electrifying new artists making waves now.

“If Beale Street Could Talk”: Director Barry Jenkins’ heart-stopping 2018 adaptation of James Baldwin’s novel on love and prejudice in 1970s Harlem.

“John Lewis: Big Trouble”: With voting rights under serious threat, Dawn Porter’s 2020 documentary on the late civil-rights leader feels more urgent than ever.

“Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown”: Alex Gibney’s 2014 documentary is two-plus hours of soul, sweat and mind-blowing social history.

“Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am”: Timothy Greenfield-Sanders’ 2019 documentary offers provocative discussions of life, literature and race featuring the award-winning author.

Toni Morrison in TONI MORRISON: THE PIECES I AM, a Magnolia Pictures release.

(Timothy Greenfield-Sanders/Magnolia Pictures)