Terrence Rice
Self

Follows members of the Zulu Club, New Orleans’ first Black Mardi Gras, as they work to bring the Zulu parade back to the streets for Mardi Gras Day 2022, in the face of a global pandemic, hurricane Ida and the loss of members due to COVID and gun violence.
I’ve never been to Mardi Gras. Not the real one, anyway—the kind that spills out of living rooms and into the streets of New Orleans, where the air smells like sweat and fried dough and something older than the city itself. But after watching A King Like Me, I feel like I’ve stood on the curb of St.
Charles Avenue, my shoes sticking to the pavement, watching the Zulu parade roll by with its glittering coconuts and men in blackface, their faces painted not in mockery but in something closer to defiance. The film doesn’t just show you the spectacle; it lets you feel the weight of what it means to carry that tradition, especially when the world seems determined to erase it.
Matthew O. Henderson’s documentary isn’t a primer on Mardi Gras for outsiders. It’s a love letter, yes, but one that’s willing to smudge its own ink.
The film follows the Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club—the city’s first Black Mardi Gras organization—as they prepare for the 2022 parade after two years of cancellations due to COVID-19 and Hurricane Ida. The stakes aren’t just about putting on a show; they’re about survival. Survival of a community, of a history, of a way of life that’s been under siege for generations.
As one critic put it, "This film isn’t simply a celebration of Zulu, but also an examination of it, one that is willing to show how the members of its own community are grappling with the hard questions". And those questions? They’re heavy.

The film’s emotional core belongs to Terrence Rice, a sixth-generation New Orleanian and Zulu member who becomes the documentary’s reluctant guide. Rice isn’t a performer; he’s a man trying to hold onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. In one of the film’s most vulnerable moments, we see him in his backyard, sitting on a tractor, talking about the exhaustion of keeping the tradition alive.
The camera lingers on his face, the lines around his eyes deepening as he speaks. It’s not a dramatic monologue—it’s just a man, tired and honest, wondering if the thing he loves is worth the fight. That scene, more than any parade footage, is what sticks with you.
A King Like Me (2024), directed by Matthew O. Henderson, isn’t just a documentary about Mardi Gras—it’s a raw, behind-the-scenes look at the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club’s battle to keep its historic parade alive amid crises. The film follows members of New Orleans’ first Black Mardi Gras krewe as they navigate pandemic shutdowns, Hurricane Ida’s devastation, and personal losses, all while clinging to tradition. latestnetflix.com's take is that but beneath the glitter and feathers, the project reveals deeper tensions about race, legacy, and the future of Black Carnival culture.
The Zulu Club’s 2022 Mardi Gras parade was a make-or-break moment. After two years of cancellations due to COVID-19, the krewe faced an uphill climb: Hurricane Ida had ravaged the city just months earlier, and the club had lost members to both the virus and gun violence. A King Like Me captures the stakes, showing how the Zulu community rallied to bring the parade back—even as the world around them seemed to crumble.
The film’s cast, including Terrence Rice, Jacques Morial, Michael "Quess?" Moore, and George Rainey, aren’t just performers; they’re stewards of a century-old tradition. Their roles reflect the real-life pressures of preserving Black Mardi Gras in an era of gentrification and cultural erasure. The documentary doesn’t shy away from the challenges, framing the parade’s return as both a celebration and a defiant act of resilience.
One of the film’s most provocative threads is its exploration of Zulu’s use of blackface—a practice with roots in the club’s early 20th-century history. A King Like Me doesn’t just gloss over the controversy; it dives into the complexities, contrasting Zulu’s tradition with the broader, painful legacy of minstrelsy in America. The documentary finds humor and eccentricity in the culture, but it also forces viewers to grapple with uncomfortable questions: Can a Black-led krewe reclaim blackface as a form of empowerment, or is it a relic that needs to evolve?
The film doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does provide context. Zulu’s blackface, often paired with grass skirts and exaggerated features, was originally a satirical response to white Mardi Gras krewes that excluded Black participants. Today, the practice remains a lightning rod, sparking debates about whether tradition should bend to modern sensibilities. A King Like Me lets the Zulu members speak for themselves, presenting their arguments without judgment.
While the film’s official cast includes Terrence Rice, Jacques Morial, Michael "Quess?" Moore, and George Rainey, IMDb’s credits reveal a broader ensemble, including Jay Banks, Dr. Takeisha Davis, and Asali DeVan Ecclesiastes. This discrepancy hints at the documentary’s vérité style—many of the "characters" are real Zulu members playing versions of themselves, blurring the line between performance and reality.
Rumors suggest some cast members were initially hesitant to participate, wary of how the film might portray Zulu’s internal struggles. However, director Matthew O. Henderson’s insider access (he’s a New Orleans native with deep ties to the community) helped earn their trust. The result is a film that feels intimate, even when it’s tackling thorny issues.
A King Like Me premiered in 2024, but its story is far from over. The Zulu Club continues to face challenges, from rising costs to shifting demographics in New Orleans. The documentary’s release has reignited conversations about the krewe’s future, with some calling for a rebranding of its blackface tradition, while others argue for preserving it as a form of cultural resistance.
As for the film itself, early buzz suggests it’s resonating beyond Mardi Gras circles. Critics praise its balance of celebration and critique, though some note the lack of a clear resolution—fitting, given that Zulu’s story is still unfolding. Whether it sparks change within the club or simply documents a pivotal moment, A King Like Me ensures the Zulu parade’s legacy won’t be forgotten.
Entertainment rumors and trivia aggregated from public reporting. Treat speculation as unverified unless a cited source confirms it.
More titles in the same genres and with the same cast.