Off-Set: Rebel Dread

REBEL DREAD

Rarely has someone been as prolific, wearing so many different hats, as Don Letts, the subject of William E. Badgley’s documentary feature film, Rebel Dread (2020). Depending on who you ask, they’ll know him as an international DJ, an award-winning filmmaker, a member of the pioneering band Big Audio Dynamite (despite not being able to sing or play an instrument), or as a forthright cultural commentator. Badgley’s film, largely narrated by Letts himself, brings Letts’ life and times together as an immersive audio-visual biography, stretching between his childhood growing up in a Britain stained by Enoch Powell’s ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech, and his trailblazing successes which followed.

Watching the film, one thing stands out above nearly all else: Letts was “always on a mission, always looking for something to happen”. After soaking up the energy and DIY ethos of London’s burgeoning subcultural scenes in the 1970s, he recounts his realisation that, “if I had an idea, and I was brave enough, maybe I could be part of this thing too”. In truth, looking at the world of glass ceilings and closed doors through Letts’s eyes, nothing seems impossible. This self-belief ultimately led to Letts becoming a DJ >>

at The Roxy, a key hub of the punk scene, where his heavy dub reggae sets were pivotal in forging an alliance between punk and reggae lovers. The Roxy was also where Letts began recording the footage on his Super 8mm camera which would eventually feature in his first film, The Punk Rock Movie (1978). This first foray behind the camera would see him shoot over 300 music videos for artists as disparate as Public Image and Bob Marley. Nonetheless, one of Letts’ proudest achievements as director is Dancehall Queen (1997), a Jamaican feature film cast in the mould of Perry Henzell’s The Harder They Come (1972) – the film that first gave Letts the urge to express himself visually. Both films gave a voice to Jamaican culture on the big screen, reinforcing Letts’ avowal that his creative projects need to “justify the space” that they occupy. As he says, “make films about things that mean something, and they can actually help to move things forward”. Amidst a climate of racist politicians, the racist enforcement of stop and search powers, Britain’s criminal underappreciation of its immigrant workforce, and a political discourse which made hate seem more tangible than unity, Letts built his career on seeing similarities where others chose to only see difference. Cultural exchange and crossover collaborations are the fountains from which his creativity and identity have sprung, even as he grapples with his Jamaican heritage and reckons with the ramifications of his Black British identity. For most people, there is a gap between seeing and doing, usually spent trying to muster up self-belief or silence an internal fear of failure. Not for Don. In many ways, the moniker ‘Rebel Dread’ is a gross oversimplification of Letts’ character and cultural legacy; he didn’t rebel for rebellion’s sake – he had a vision, either as a DJ, a director or an artist who pioneered sampling movie dialogue on

songs. As his brother Desmond narrates: “Don saw it, he was ahead”. At one point in the documentary, speaking of veteran Jamaican reggae artists struggling to gain record deals, Letts claims: “there’s no real justice, the real pioneers never get to collect”. Luckily for us, with this film we have a documentary which pays testament to the pioneer who shaped British cultural scenes and who, to my mind, still hasn’t received the credit that his achievements deserve. Christopher Deane n

Rebel Dread is released in UK Cinemas soon from Bohemia Media.

Don Letts and Bob Marley