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Never Seen It: Watching Do The Right Thing with Memphis Flyer writer Sam Cicci


For Never Seen It, I watch a classic (or maybe not-so-classic) film with an interesting person who is watching it for the first time. Sam Cicci is an associate editor at Contemporary Media, and covers Memphis 901 FC for the Memphis Flyer. He chose Spike Lee’s 1989 masterpiece Do The Right Thing.

Chris McCoy: Tell me what you know about Do The Right Thing.

Sam Cicci: Well, not a whole lot. It’s one of those things that I’ve just heard referenced a lot. I think my parents liked it when it came out. I know it’s about simmering racial tensions in New York City in what, the late eighties maybe? And it’s centered around a pizza parlor or something. I know it’s kind of like, uh, I think it’s about African-Americans and Italian immigrants, and just kind of how those cultures are clashing in this community.

CM: Have you ever seen any other Spike Lee movies?

SC: I don’t think so. I think I’ve only seen half of Da 5 Bloods

CM: Well, this is going to be great, then!

SC: Yeah, I’m excited. I feel like there’s a big hole in my pop culture repertoire.

120 minutes later…

CM: Sam Cicci, you are now a person who has seen Do The Right Thing. What did you think?

SC: Well, it was really good. It was phenomenal! And I’m also just filled with this overwhelming sense of sadness after it wrapped up. I guess, uh, watching it, especially in today’s climate…it was made in 1989, is that right?

CM: Yeah, ’89.

SC: I feel like it could have been made today, or 10 years ago. It has sort of a timeless feel to it. That is just really depressing, when you think about it like that.

CM: Yeah, I really felt Ruby Dee at the end. Mother Sister, you know, she just screams “No!” for probably 30 seconds of screen time. It really brought tears to my eyes this time. I feel that overwhelming sense of frustration. I really relate to that right now after like the last, you know, well, I guess five years, but really the last year specifically. When she’s screaming, it just really hit me. The whole thing is so prophetic, like when Radio Raheem is put in a choke hold by a cop and strangled to death. That’s exactly what happened to George Floyd, right? 


SC: You hear the police sirens, and that cop car starts rolling up the street, and you know it’s only going to end one way at that point. And there’s just this pit in your stomach. You know, a lot of people are giving flack to Radio Raheem, but he never does anything to warrant that. He’s just walking around with his boombox going “Hey, you guys!” and giving his “love and hate” spiel. He just seems like he’s kind of hanging out. He is never aggressive with anyone, except for when Sal destroys his boombox. It’s just heartbreaking to see what happened to him at the end of the movie. It was just so real.

CM: I think what’s interesting about Radio Raheem is, yeah, it’s obnoxious to walk into somebody’s restaurant with a boom box. But it’s not get-killed-over obnoxious.

CM: This is a film that had a huge influence on my life. I was 18 years old in 1989, and I wanted to be a filmmaker, and Spike Lee was one of the people that made me want to be a filmmaker. This time, it felt a lot deeper. It’s a movie that’s gotten deeper with time. I felt like, back in the day, it really taught me a lot. But now, one thing that struck me this time was, this movie is not about answers. It’s almost like he’s struggling to sort of define what the actual problem is. All of these characters are really multifaceted. Spike himself, Mookie, he’s kind of a jerk, you know? He’s a deadbeat dad. But everybody has bad parts and good parts.

SC: Absolutely. I agree with your point, too, about, trying to figure out what the issue is, exactly. You spend a lot of time with everyone and every group, and between all these characters, there is just kind of this simmering tension, a little bit of racism between all the different groups who occupy this neighborhood. But even through all that, there is a coexistence there that seems to be running fairly smoothly. I find myself sympathizing with Buggin’ Out’s protest. It feels tough to unpack this all at once, right after watching it. I understand that he’s angry; I don’t know if taking it out on Sal like that is the best way to do it. But it also feels like the only place he can direct his anger. And on the flip side, I don’t know why Sal can’t just put some photos of Black people up on his wall of fame.

Mookie (Spike Lee) and Sal (Danny Aiello) in front of the all-Italian “Wall of Fame.”

CM: Yeah, ’cause it’s all gesture, right? Putting Muhammad Ali up there costs him nothing. Maybe he even learns something.

SC: His son, Pino, is pretty racist. But Sal on the other hand, he wants to live here and stay in business here. But then just being unwilling to do that little gesture, it shows that he really hasn’t connected with the neighborhood that supports him as much as he should have.

CM: He doesn’t want to put Black people on the wall. He only wants Italian people on the wall, because this is an Italian restaurant. This is my restaurant. I built this with my hands, and I’m Italian, and also the food here is Italian food. So there should be Italian people on the wall. Then the black people in the neighborhood, in Bed-Stuy, they’re like, no, this is our neighborhood. So that’s why we should have people like us on the wall. I understand both points of view. I don’t want somebody coming into my house and telling me what kind of art I can put on my wall. But on the other hand, they’re his customers, and they sustain the place, and they want to see themselves represented. There’s also another layer to the movie. These people are all in this together. They’re all alike on a deeper level that they can’t even see. Buggin’ Out and his band of aggro friends, they can’t see Sal’s point of view, even though it’s not that different from their own. Everybody has blind spots in this movie, that’s what I’m trying to say.

SC: It’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot to think about. The part that’s still so relevant now was really upsetting.

CM: The riot at the end, that sequence is just amazing. It’s so well put together and it just looks great. And yet, it’s also really emotional. Of course, since The Mayor tells Mookie at the beginning, “Do the right thing,” the question of this movie has always been, “Does Mookie do the right thing or not?” And I don’t think the movie knows.

SC: It got me thinking about current events as well, where one side will value property damage over the life of an innocent person. Everything just keeps spiraling.

CM: It’s Shakespearian, in that way. Did it feel stagey to you?

SC: What do you mean by that, exactly?

CM: I love how theatrical it feels, like it’s almost a stage play. 

SC: Oh! I can see that for sure. You’ve got this kind of small setting, and you’re hopping around among a bunch of little vignettes. Everyone comes together at the end, but you have these self-contained stories throughout. I could definitely see that making a jump into the theater.

CM: I guess the other big part of this movie is “Fight the Power”, the Public Enemy song in the intro with Rosie Perez dancing. I saw an internet poll a couple of years ago, and this was voted the best opening credits sequence of all time—and it wasn’t even close.

CM: I just love everything about it. “Fight The Power” is my favorite hip hop song of all time, and she was a Soul Train dancer. 

SC: Really?

CM: Yeah, this was her first part. She was a regular on Soul Train when she auditioned for this movie.

SC: Wow. I was going to say, I bought new speakers for my TV recently and didn’t realize how high I had them cranked up when I started the movie. And then I was like, Whoa, I’m ready to go now! Ready to go fight the power or join a protest or something! Let’s do this! And I wish I could dance! That was another thing: It really started out with a bang. It started on a high, and then gradually spiraled down as things took a turn.

On the Bed-Stuy street in Do The Right Thing.

CM: It just looked hot. That’s one thing that this movie does well, because it was filmed mostly outside. But they were blasting the lights the whole time, so it felt hot, you know? And I think that really adds to the tension. 

SC: Literal and figurative heating up. I think that just helps push people to a breaking point.

CM: You feel that in Memphis, sometimes, don’t you?

SC: Oh yeah.

Giancarlo Esposito as Buggin’ Out.

CM: So, would you recommend people watch Do The Right Thing

SC: Absolutely. First of all, I just thought it was a really good movie across the board. And on top of that, it’s still so relevant. I hate saying that over and over again, because I want that to not be true. But I liked seeing so many names I recognized pop up. There’s Martin Lawrence, and Giancarlo Esposito, I hadn’t realized he was in this. He’s so good.

CM: Buggin’ Out is just a classic character. And then, Samuel L. Jackson is the DJ. Most of these people were at the beginning of their careers. I think Sam Jackson had been around for a while at that point, but he was all bit parts, like, he’s the guy who robs the McDowell’s in Coming To America

SC: I’m curious, how was this movie received when it first came out? What was the reception like?  

CM: A lot of people thought it should have been nominated for Best Picture. It wasn’t. Driving Miss Daisy won that year.

SC: Oh, god.

CM: Yeah. A lot of the debate was what I said earlier: “Does Mookie do the right thing?” The ending was very controversial, because of the riot. In retrospect, I think some people laid expectations on Spike to give us all the answers to racism, but that’s not his purpose here. He’s trying to frame the question. I mean, it’s just like today, you know? Like you said, nothing has changed. If that ending came out in a film today, it would provoke exactly the same conversation as it did in 1989. I swear. It’s depressing just to say it out loud, but it’s true. It’s the truth. 

SC: Yeah. What is Mookie supposed to do?

CM: I don’t know.

SC: It’s an impossible situation.

CM: There aren’t any right answers. Part of what is so insightful about this movie is that it’s a bunch of ordinary people faced with these completely unsolvable moral dilemmas. There’s a series of them, and it escalates until you’re sitting on the curb with Mookie while the neighborhood is going up in flames. In that moment, this is not a person who thinks he’s done the right thing.

SC: The look on his face was like, ‘Oh no…’.

CM: But that’s part of the point. Racism backs people into these corners, you know? Like you said, Sal is generous throughout the whole thing. Danny Aiello, by the way is so good in this.

SC: Oh, he’s amazing!

Danny Aiello as Sal

CM: I found that very moving, this time, when he says, “Look at this whole neighborhood. They grew up on my food.” That means something, that’s beautiful to me. But then his kid, John Turturro, he’s awful. Another thing I found really remarkable this time was the conversation between Mookie and Pino, where they actually sit down and kind of try to work it out for a minute. That seems like a very screenwriter thing to do—let’s put these two characters together, bounce them off each other, see what happens, you know? And I don’t mean that in a denigrating way. It’s a time-honored writing tradition, believe me. What was really interesting to me was, they saw their commonality and kind of chose not to pursue it.

SC: Yeah. The crux of the whole flashpoint is, even though there is all this commonality here, they just can’t, in the end, quite get it together. And I guess they want to fight the power, but the power is this, you know, institutional racial and economic disenfranchisement. It’s not really there on screen. There’s not a physical manifestation of it, except for when the police show up, so there’s just not really an outlet for their anger.

CM: I think you’re exactly right. They’re looking for something to fight, but the thing that they need to fight is not there in front of them, so they just start fighting each other.

The Sal’s Pizzaria staff: Spike Lee, Danny Aiello, Richard Edson, and John Turturro.

SC: Man, what a movie! what should I watch from Spike Lee next?

CM: Well, you should finish watching Da 5 Bloods. Start again, maybe, with fresh eyes. It should have been nominated for Best Picture, because it literally was the best picture last year. Spike got flat robbed. I think as part of it was the fact that Oscar season was longer this year, and Da 5 Bloods came out back in the summer. People forgot about it. But the man gets no respect. Driving Miss Daisy? Give me a break.

SC: When you say it out loud, it sounds so terrible. I remember thinking about Spike Lee not getting respect, too, in other ways. There was that whole fiasco he got in with the Knicks a while back, at Madison Square Garden, when they kept denying him entry through some door he’d always been using for games. He’s been buying floor seats to that garbage team for years, they should build a statue of him for that. It must be excruciating to support the Knicks. 

CM: We can agree on that. Somebody needs to be building statues of Spike Lee.

 

 

 

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

2020 on Screen: The Best and Worst of Film and TV

There’s no denying that 2020 was an unprecedented year, so I’m doing something unprecedented: combining film and TV into one year-end list.

Steve Carrell sucking up oxygen in Space Force.

Worst TV: Space Force

Satirizing Donald Trump’s useless new branch of the military probably seemed like a good idea at the time. But Space Force is an aggressively unfunny boondoggle that normalizes the neo-fascism that almost swallowed America in 2020.

John David Washington (center) and Robert Pattinson (right) are impeccably dressed secret time agents in Tenet.

Worst Picture: Tenet

Christopher Nolan’s latest gizmo flick was supposed to save theaters from the pandemic. Instead, it was an incoherent, boring, self-important mess. You’d think $200 million would buy a sound mix with discernible dialogue. I get angry every time I think about this movie.

We Can’t Wait

Best Memphis Film: We Can’t Wait

Lauren Ready’s Indie Memphis winner is a fly-on-the-wall view of Tami Sawyer’s 2019 mayoral campaign. Unflinching and honest, it’s an instant Bluff City classic.

Grogu, aka The Child, aka Baby Yoda

Best Performance by a Nonhuman: Grogu, The Mandalorian

In this hotly contested category, Baby Yoda barely squeaks out a win over Buck from Call of the Wild. Season 2 of the Star Wars series transforms The Child by calling his presumed innocence into question, transforming the story into a battle for his soul.

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton

Most Inspiring: Hamilton

The year’s emotional turning point was the Independence Day Disney+ debut of the Broadway mega-hit. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s hip-hop retelling of America’s founding drama called forth the better angels of our nature.

Film About a Father Who

Best Documentary: Film About a Father Who

More than 35 years in the making, Lynne Sachs’ portrait of her mercurial father, legendary Memphis bon vivant Ira Sachs Sr., is as raw and confessional as its subject is inscrutable. Rarely has a filmmaker opened such a deep vein and let the truth bleed out.

Cristin Milioti in Palm Springs

Best Comedy: Palm Springs

Andy Samberg is stuck in a time loop he doesn’t want to break until he accidentally pulls Cristin Milioti in with him. It’s the best twist yet on the classic Groundhog Day formula, in no small part because of Milioti’s breakthrough performance. It perfectly captured the languid sameness of the COVID summer.

Soul

Best Animation: Soul

Pixar’s Pete Docter, co-directing with One Night in Miami writer Kemp Powers, creates another little slice of perfection. Shot through with a love of jazz, this lusciously animated take on A Matter of Life and Death stars Jamie Foxx as a middle school music teacher who gets his long-awaited big break, only to die on his way to the gig. Tina Fey is the disembodied soul who helps him appreciate that no life devoted to art is wasted.

Jessie Buckley

Best Performance: Jessie Buckley, I’m Thinking of Ending Things

Buckley is the acting discovery of the year. She’s perfect in Fargo as Nurse Mayflower, who hides her homicidal mania under a layer of Midwestern nice. But her performance in Charlie Kaufman’s mind-bending psychological horror is a next-level achievement. She conveys Lucy’s (or maybe it’s Louisa, or possibly Lucia) fluid identity with subtle changes of postures and flashes of her crooked smile.

Isiah Whitlock Jr., Norm Lewis, Delroy Lindo, Clarke Peters, and Jonathan Majors in Da 5 Bloods.

MVP: Spike Lee

Lee dropped not one but two masterpieces this year. Treasure of the Sierra Madre in the jungle, the kaleidoscopic Vietnam War drama Da 5 Bloods reckons with the legacy of American imperialism with an all-time great performance by Delroy Lindo as a Black veteran undone by trauma, greed, and envy. American Utopia is the polar opposite; a joyful concert film made in collaboration with David Byrne that rocks the body while pointing the way to a better future. In 2020, Lee made a convincing case that he is the greatest living American filmmaker.

Rhea Seehorn and Bob Odenkirk in Better Call Saul

Best TV: Better Call Saul

How could Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould’s prequel to the epochal Breaking Bad keep getting better in its fifth season? The writing is as sharp as ever, and Bob Odenkirk’s descent from the goofy screwup Jimmy McGill to amoral drug cartel lawyer Saul Goodman is every bit the equal of Bryan Cranston’s transformation from Walter White to Heisenberg. This was the season that Rhea Seehorn came into her own as Kim Wexler. Saul’s superlawyer wife revealed herself as his equal in cunning. If she can figure out what she wants in life, she will be the most dangerous character in a story filled with drug lords, assassins, and predatory bankers.

Michael Stuhlbarg and Elisabeth Moss in Shirley.

Best Picture: Shirley

Elisabeth Moss is brilliant as writer Shirley Jackson in Josephine Decker’s experimental biographical drama. Michael Stuhlbarg co-stars as her lit professor husband, Stanley Edgar Hyman, who is at once her biggest fan and bitterest enemy. Into this toxic stew of a relationship is dropped Rose (Odessa Young), the pregnant young wife of Hyman’s colleague Fred (Logan Lerman), who becomes Shirley’s muse/punching bag. If Soul is about art’s life-giving power, Shirley is about art’s destructive dark side. Shirley is too flinty and idiosyncratic to get mainstream recognition, but it’s a stunning, unique vision straight from the American underground.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

American Utopia

From the beginning, America has been a utopian project. The Founders had come of age in an era that highlighted the problems of monarchy and what we now call authoritarianism. They saw decades in England dominated by civil war, with only the cast of unyielding megalomaniacs changing from time to time. They threw off a haughty monarchy interested only in exploitation and indifferent to the needs of its subjects in far-flung colonies. They embraced the ideals of science and the Enlightenment to create a system of democratic self-rule in the hopes that these United States could be a better place than those that came before. In 1790, George Washington wrote to a supporter that, “The establishment of our new Government seemed to be the last great experiment for promoting human happiness.”

From the beginning, America did not live up to the ideals espoused by our founding documents. All men were created equal — except the Black slaves. People were endowed by their creators with the inalienable right to life — except the natives who had to be slaughtered so we could take their land. Everyone had a right to vote — except for women, who made up half the population. But the ideas unleashed by the American Revolution proved infectious and hard to kill, sparking a pandemic of democratic thought all over the world. Like science, there is no end state to democracy; it’s a process. America is a 244-year-old work in progress.

This must be the place — A-list director Spike Lee documents former Talking Heads frontman David Byrne’s (above, center) vision of his adopted home in American Utopia.

Embracing the will to change is a theme that runs throughout American Utopia. It might sound strange to claim that a concert film has a theme besides “get up and dance,” but this is no ordinary concert film. David Byrne, who gained fame as the frontman for the greatest of the 1970s art punk bands, Talking Heads, crafted a Broadway show out of the unique tour he designed for his 2018 album. When Byrne played at 2018’s Memphis in May, the contrast between his act and the dozens of other pop, rock, and hip-hop acts was striking. Instead of a stage full of musicians tethered to the instruments, Byrne and company started out with a blank stage surrounded on three sides by curtains of silver links. The musicians, carrying their instruments in harnesses like a marching band, moved freely about the stage, executing choreography that took from both the freedom of the New York modern dance scene and the rigid precision of color guards and drum corps. Once the show moved to the Great White Way, it was refined into a blockbuster, which was selling out the historic Hudson Theatre.

Talking Heads were the subject of what is, for my money, the greatest concert film ever made, 1983’s Stop Making Sense, directed by the late Jonathan Demme. To document American Utopia, Byrne reached out to fellow New Yorker Spike Lee. Filming a Broadway show might seem like a waste of talent for someone on the shortlist of America’s greatest living directors, but Stop Making Sense proved the concert film is a unique and subtle challenge for a filmmaker.

Fortunately for us, Lee said yes, and he was more than equal to the task. This is not a three-camera shoot feeding a Bonnaroo live-stream. Lee and cinematographer Ellen Kuras have an uncanny knack for putting their cameras in exactly the right place to capture the drama and spectacle of the choreography. We get views from the wings, close-ups of the dancers’ bare feet, and even a rotating overhead camera.

The film’s 20 songs span Byrne’s career, from the twitchy “Don’t Worry About the Government” from the Talking Heads’ debut in ’77, to “Everybody’s Coming to My House” from 2018. The nestled polyrhythms and Dada poetry of “I, Zimbra” sound made for the percussion-heavy band, led by frequent Byrne collaborator Mauro Refosco. Songs from American Utopia, which sounded a little half-baked on the record, come into their own before the packed theater.

Byrne begins the show holding a model of a human brain. As New Wave’s poster boy, he weaponized what he now describes as mild autism into a persona that fit the confrontational CBGB punk scene where the Heads first emerged. The arc of American Utopia echoes his experiences growing up in public as a perpetual outsider trying to relate to the neurotypical. In his opening description of the brain, he pays special attention to the corpus callosum, the groove that both separates the two hemispheres and carries messages back and forth.

Byrne wants to show that we are much more alike than we are different. He points out that most members of his band, including himself, are immigrants. The American experiment has produced horrors and violence, but our openness has also led to the greatest flowering of creativity the world has ever seen. In this time of darkness, Byrne and Lee say we can once again come together to pursue that elusive dream of utopia. With this singularly joyous film, they are leading by example.

American Utopia is airing on HBO, and streams on HBO Max.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Never Seen It: Watching Malcolm X with Flyer Writer Matthew Harris

Matthew Harris is the newest edition to the Contemporary Media team. He is a 2020 graduate of Rhodes College who interned with the Memphis Flyer and Memphis magazine before being hired as an editorial assistant. I persuaded him to watch all three hours and 20 minutes of Spike Lee’s epic 1992 biopic Malcolm X. Our epic conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Chris McCoy: So tell me, what do you know about Malcolm X?

Denzel Washington as Malcolm X

Matthew Harris: I know what I have learned in the American school system. I know he was a civil rights leader. At first, he was anti- working with the African-American establishment. But then that changed close to his death, and he was really like, “You know we really need to stand together with the African-American civil rights movement. We need to be one unified voice.” But he died. A lot of what I know comes secondhand, from hearing my grandparents talk about it, my mom talk about it. But you know, I went to high school in Texas, and we didn’t talk about Malcolm X or any other outside-the-mainstream leaders. Ironically enough, I watched I Am Not Your Negro, which is a documentary based on the works of James Baldwin, two weeks ago. That was really the first time in my life where I was like, “Oh, wow. Okay. This was the movement. There were all these civil rights leaders like Fred Johnson I never really learned about in school.”

Chris: Well, you’re about to learn a lot more. What do you know about the movie Malcolm X?

Matthew: I know It’s a Spike Lee film, and it stars Denzel Washington.

Chris: Have you seen other Spike Lee films?

Matthew: I’ve seen Do the Right Thing, BlacKkKlansman. I ended up watching Da 5 Bloods very, very late last night. Chi-Raq was also by him. I’m a huge Spike Lee fan. I was talking to my mom and told her I was watching Malcolm X because I was helping a friend for something at work. She said, “Oh yeah, you’re going to be mad at the end. You’re going to be mad because Denzel didn’t win an Oscar for his performance, and he was amazing.”

Chris: Not to bias the experiment, but I think your Mom has a point.

201 minutes later …

Chris: Okay, Matthew Harris. You are now someone who has seen Malcolm X. What did you think?

Matthew: Oh, it was really, really, really good. The first half was very hard to watch. There were a lot of decisions that were made where I found myself saying, “No! No! Don’t do that! Just walk away!” The conversation he has with his wife Betty, where she says, “Open your eyes!” is now in my top five movie moments. That’s such a hard scene. He really owes his life to the movement, and is ready to do anything for them. But they were taking advantage of him. You can just tell, knowing this is based on his book, you know it was hard for him to do, and it was such a hard conversation to play. But they just knocked it out of the park. It was so well done.

Chris: Are you upset, like your mom said, that Denzel didn’t get the Best Actor Oscar?

Matthew: I’m pretty angry. Angela Bassett was amazing as well.

Chris: Oh yes. She’s always amazing.

(left) Angela Bassett as Betty Shabazz

Chris: Do you know who actually won, instead of Denzel?

Matthew: Who?

Chris: Al Pacino for Scent of a Woman.

Matthew: Huh.

Chris: I know. That was one of those awards that was a “He’s done so much good stuff, we need to give him one” kind of thing. But come on! Denzel’s so good. The way he carries himself from phase to phase in this movie, you can sort of watch the moral maturity of his character evolve, just from the way Denzel holds his shoulders. It’s stunning.

Robbed

Chris: So what do you think about watching this today? What does this movie say to 2020 America?

Matthew: There were a lot of messages and shots that were so very poignant, especially in the latter half. There’s one shot of Malcolm near the end that I want to say is a fisheye effect, or something like that. And then there’s a lady on the street who stops him, and says, “Don’t let them get you down, don’t let them talk to you like that.” And that’s something Spike Lee does. It’s in BlacKkKlansman as well, with a burning cross. The message of that … As a Black man, there have been times when there’s so much pressure and social tension going on. There’s a weight there. You find yourself with these moments where you’re just on autopilot. I remember there would be days at Rhodes where something would happen, and I would just walk past my friends. They would be like, ‘Hey, Matt, how are you doing?” And I’m just not there, because I’m not in a moment. Keep moving, keep moving on. You have to put yourself into that mindset. That’s how you get from day one to day two because you don’t know any other way. You hear the slight against you, or you see systemic racism, and you’re like, I just can’t deal with that today. You really zone out. I loved that scene.

Chris: That’s one of Spike’s signature shots. It might not have been the first one, but it’s the best one, because of Denzel’s face. What’s going on is pretty simple. It’s a dolly shot with the camera angle pointing up. The actor is just riding on the dolly with the camera. He’s in motion, but he’s not walking. It looks like he’s gliding. He’s ascending, because the motion of the trees in the background is downward, so it’s like he’s ascending to heaven. It’s kind of a Jesus moment. He’s in the Garden of Gethsemane, awaiting his betrayal. Not to be insensitive to him as a Muslim. I think Spike kind of calls himself out there. The woman you were talking about who stops him on the street says “Jesus will protect you.” I was like, yeah, probably not the best thing to say to this guy at this moment. But she meant well.

Never Seen It: Watching Malcolm X with Flyer Writer Matthew Harris (6)

Chris: This movie came out when I was in college. I was already a big Spike Lee fan, because I was a film nerd and I loved She’s Gotta Have It and Do the Right Thing. This is Spike doing the prestige studio movie, 1992 style. It’s a formal exercise for Spike, where in Do the Right Thing, he’s free form. He’s just doing his own thing. But this is a big studio thing, and he did it so much better than anybody else at the time. He’s just good at everything. I’m so jealous of him. He’s great with actors. You just watched Da 5 Bloods, right? What did you think of that?

Matthew: It was good. I think you can sort of categorize Spike Lee films in two ways. There’s the overtly politicized movies, like Malcolm X and BlacKkKlansman. Then there’s the sort of more internalized African-American movies, like Do the Right Thing.

In Da 5 Bloods, the entire premise of the movie is bringing back money to the community that they feel is rightly theirs. But part of it is also dealing with how African Americans see themselves. How do they deal with their struggle, their problems? BlacKkKlansman and Malcolm X, you have characters who live in a political sphere. It’s about how they navigate the space around them, how they exist in the space around them. So, one thing I harken back to in BlacKkKlansman, you have this really strong African-American lead who has to go through changes. But then at the end of the day, he realizes it doesn’t matter what changes he goes through. He’s just found a way to live, but the world doesn’t really care.

In Malcolm X, we have a character who goes through significant changes. We follow him throughout his entire life, and in the end, nothing changes. He’s murdered, Black men and women are still facing prejudice, the injustice is still occurring, and the movie ends. That’s one thing I’ve always liked about Spike Lee movies, especially the politicized ones — they don’t have happy endings. That’s real life. Even Da 5 Bloods is not a super happy ending.

Chris: Most of them die. And Delroy Lindo dies sort of unredeemed. Did you notice him in this movie? He’s so good as Malcolm’s criminal mentor.

(left) Delroy Lindo as West African Archie, Malcolm Little’s criminal mentor.

Chris: I was keeping track of the timing. The first hour is basically a gangster movie.

Matthew: It’s like a gangster movie, then it’s like The Green Mile or Shawshank Redemption, then it becomes a political movie.

Chris: And when it’s The Shawshank Redemption, it’s better than the actual Shawshank Redemption! Spike’s like, ‘Oh yeah, I can do this!” Another one he does is JFK, the Oliver Stone movie that was out the year before this. I really noticed it during the part where Malcolm made the comments about the assassination. It’s cut like an Oliver Stone montage in that moment. Spike is just casually doing everyone else’s riffs better than they could.

Like you said, it’s kind of a hard movie to watch, because it’s almost three and a half hours long. But it doesn’t feel like I’m wasting my time. I’m the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet, but when I spent three hours with those Hobbit movies, I felt like I was wasting my time.

Matthew: There’s no space wasted in this movie.

Never Seen It: Watching Malcolm X with Flyer Writer Matthew Harris (3)

Chris: One thing that struck me this time was, this isn’t just a movie about racism. It’s exploring racism as a phenomenon. It poses the question, which Malcolm’s life does — when he was a Black separatist in a cult of personality, as the Nation of Islam was — was he a racist? Ultimately, he comes around to cosmopolitanism after he goes to Mecca and sees everybody worshiping together. He gets a new perspective when he leaves the racist environment of America. I don’t have the answer to that question, and that makes it uncomfortable to watch for a lot of people.

Matthew: Being a younger African American, and going to college at a PWI, a Primarily White Institution, I met people on different ends of the spectrum. In Texas, I grew up as pretty much always the only Black person in the room. People are always going to ask me questions. People are going to do microaggressions towards me. But they don’t know. I have very curly hair, and some of my earliest memories from middle school are people playing with my hair. … They had never been around people with Black hair.

So, when I came to Rhodes, I was very different than people there, because I was like, “Hey, you know it’s okay to tell people that they’re wrong and to educate people.”And I met a lot of people who were like, “No, they should know, and they’re either with us, or they’re against us.” I saw so much of that in Malcolm X, with the kind of transformation he makes. At Boston College, there’s this one white lady who asks, “What can I do to help you?” And he says, “Nothing.” To this day, I know people who are like that. “There are no good white people. They’re all out to get us.” I’ve seen people, as they get older, make the transformation that Malcolm makes. I think a lot of African Americans make that change in their life. They’re like, “Is my outlook toward other people, toward people who are trying to be allies, problematic?”

‘Nothing.’

And it’s so crazy because I had a conversation with my mom last week. We were talking about Juneteenth. We’re from Texas, and Juneteenth is a state holiday. We got the day off. My mom never celebrated. She thought it was really dumb. And with everything that was happening, people were wishing her a happy Juneteenth. And she’s like, “Am I a jerk or an asshole if I email people back and tell them I don’t celebrate Juneteenth?” We had a really long conversation where I told her I think that she’s being a little hard. Because these are people who don’t know any way to ally. This is the way that some people told them that they can be an ally. They’re doing their best, they’re making an effort, and you’re basically just shitting on them for making an attempt.

Chris: I think that the tribal instinct, you know, the instinct toward being a member of a group of people who are like you, a sort of extended family group, is natural. And it served humanity well for a really long time. But it also turns toxic. We just have to figure out a way to extend that feeling in people toward all of humanity at once, if that makes any sense. I don’t know if I’m making sense right now. That’s the way forward. And what Malcolm says in the letter that he writes to Betty from Mecca is that racism is leading toward an inevitable disaster. That’s someone who has seen a higher wisdom.

Matthew: That reminded me of Kendrick Lamar at the end of To Pimp a Butterfly. In the song “Mortal Man,” he has a conversation with a recording of Tupac. One of the things he talks about is that there’s going to come a point in time when African Americans are going to start shooting back. He likens it to Nat Turner. That’s something I’ve always thought about, with things going on today. You can only push and push and push so much before people push back. I’m not going to compare 1960s America with 2020 America, but I think a lot of the pushback we’ve seen recently is due to 400 years of systematic oppression, of taking people’s voices away. Of saying, no, you can’t protest like that. You can’t say this, you can’t kneel. You eventually back people into a corner, where they say, “How can I speak out on the injustices that are in front of me without breaking the law?” If the only way you’re going to listen to me is by breaking the law, and that’s the only way change is going to happen, what other choices do you have? I care about my family, and I care about the people around me, and I care about the people who look like me. Every time I’ve tried to raise my voice, you’ve shut me down, but when I go out and shut down a street, that’s illegal. So when I first saw that, that’s all I could think of. All that anger and frustration, and people are going to rise up. And people are rising up.

Never Seen It: Watching Malcolm X with Flyer Writer Matthew Harris (2)

Malcom X is streaming on Netflix

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Da 5 Bloods: Spike Lee’s State of the Union

(from left to right) Isiah Whitlock Jr., Norm Lewis, Delroy Lindo, Clarke Peters, and Jonathan Majors

Spike Lee does not make tidy movies. He’s not here to give you a tight 90 minutes of entertainment that leaves you feeling satisfied when the status quo is restored. His stories do not proceed cleanly from cause to effect. His good guys are not flawless saints, and his bad guys do not lack all humanity. And most importantly, his style is not transparent. You can always see the hand of the artist at work, and that’s the way he likes it.

Da 5 Bloods is Lee’s 24th narrative feature. The Trump years have been a disaster in nearly all aspects of American life, but at least it’s been a great time for Spike Lee movies. 2018’s BlacKkKlansman was the perfect film for the moment — and a box-office success to boot. At the time, I thought the film’s coda, which used footage of the murder of Heather Heyer at the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, was an unnecessary add-on that would serve to date the otherwise excellent work. I have to admit I was wrong. Lee’s purpose for including the final sequence was to make the film raw and immediate to 2018 audiences. In 2020, the narrative story of the conflicted black cop in a white supremacist world paired with the final documentary image of a shocking act of political street violence is more relevant than ever.

Lee mixes archival footage with narrative even more freely in Da 5 Bloods. For this story, it makes a lot more sense — and I’m not just saying that because I got burned the last time I second-guessed the director. Da 5 Bloods is about how the past influences the present. As William Faulkner said, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”

The time-hopping story takes place in the Vietnam of 2020 and of 1968. In the present, four Army buddies, Paul (Delroy Lindo), Otis (Clarke Peters), Eddie (Norm Lewis), and Melvin (Isiah Whitlock Jr.) meet up in the lobby of a swanky hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. They’re all veterans of what their guide Vinh (Johnny Trí Nguyễn) calls “The American War.”

Vinh suspects the four men aren’t telling him the whole truth about why a quartet of 60-somethings have planned an arduous jungle hike without him, but he’s too professional to call them on it. They claim they’re planning to find the body of their fallen squad leader “Stormin’” Norman Holloway (Chadwick Boseman). And that is true, as far as it goes, and it is originally Paul’s highest priority. But they’re also there to recover a lost treasure. As we see in flashback, Stormin’ Norman’s final mission was to secure the site of a CIA plane crash deep in the jungle. Inside the downed plane, they found a heavy case stuffed with gold bars. It seems some of the CIA’s indigenous guerrillas didn’t accept payment in greenbacks.

The group buried the gold, intending to retrieve the treasure once they had a plan to get it out of the county. But before they could retrieve the loot, Norman was killed and the site firebombed beyond recognition. Now, five decades later, with the help of Google Earth and Otis’ former girlfriend Tiên (Lê Y Lan), the Bloods aim to get the gold and secure their legacies.

Lee has always been a faithful student and teacher of film history. There are a lot of influences swirling around in Da 5 Bloods. In Ho Chi Minh City, they party at the Apocalypse Now club (which is a real bar that has been open for 20 years). Later, they jovially float up river on a tourist boat to the strains of “Ride of the Valkyries.” The corrosive effect of gold on the Bloods’ friendships will be familiar to anyone who has seen The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. But Lee is not engaging in Tarantino-esque pastiche. He’s in conversation with those narratives of the past, just as his characters are fighting to come to terms with their own shared history.

Lee accentuates the time shifts in his story by changing the picture’s aspect ratio. The present day is presented in standard 16:9 HD; the 1968 battle flashbacks play out in the square frame of a 1960s-era television news camera.

In interviews, Lee has said he opted not to digitally de-age his actors in the flashbacks because it proved too expensive. But putting the old actors in the frame with T’Challa himself, Chadwick Boseman works brilliantly. Even as old men, they still fully inhabit their memories, while Stormin’ Norman lives in their heads, forever as young as the day he died. Delroy Lindo’s Paul occupies the same character space as Humphrey Bogart’s Fred C. Dobbs in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Paul’s red MAGA hat marks him as one of the eight percent of black men who voted for Trump, and he is a seething ball of resentment and grievance. Lindo is the glue that holds this sprawling, episodic story together. Running from indistinct fears of the past, holding on to hope for a quick score and life-changing riches, impervious to advice or reason, Paul represents a doomed vision of America, stomping like a toddler toward self-destruction.

Otis, the easygoing, open-minded planner who fathered a beautiful interracial daughter with Tiên, is the vision of America finally growing up and aging into change. Even wrapped in images of Americans undone by the relics of imperial wars and punctuated with reminders of our racial hypocrisy, Da 5 Bloods is ultimately hopeful about where we’re going. It’s exactly the film we need from Spike Lee in our troubled moment.

Da 5 Bloods is streaming on Netflix.

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International Jewish Film Festival Finale and Do the Right Thing This Week in Theaters

Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles

The 2020 Morris and Mollye Fogelman International Jewish Film Festival ends today (Tuesday, February 25th) with a sure-fire crowd pleaser. Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles is a documentary about the origin and impact of Fiddler On The Roof, the 1964 musical about a Jewish community trying to stay together in Tsarist Russia.

The Best Musical Tony winner was one of the most successful Broadway plays of all time and has become a staple of musical theater, and a touchstone for Jewish diaspora communities all over the world. The acclaimed documentary puts the play and the film adaptation in context with the political and social forces that influenced the play’s creation and its rise to take a place in the canon. The show starts at 6:30 at Temple Israel.

Cantor Abbie Strauss will open the program by singing several songs from the play, and at $5 for members and $7 for the community, you don’t have to be a rich man to attend.

International Jewish Film Festival Finale and Do the Right Thing This Week in Theaters

On Wednesday, February 26th, Indie Memphis presents Vitalina Varela, a film by acclaimed Portuguese director Pedro Costa. The screening starts at 7 PM at Malco Ridgeway.

International Jewish Film Festival Finale and Do the Right Thing This Week in Theaters (2)

The Malco Studio on the Square Thursday Throwback selection this week is Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing, the 1989 masterpiece that made the director a household name (even among people who never saw the movie) and, among other epochal accomplishments, introduced a guy named Samuel L. Jackson to a wider audience.

International Jewish Film Festival Finale and Do the Right Thing This Week in Theaters (3)

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Do The Right Thing Returns for 30th Anniversary Screening

Bill Nunn as Radio Raheem in Do The Right Thing

What we call the indie film movement has its roots in Kubrick, Corman, and Cassavetes, but it really popped off in 1989 with a pair of films: Stephen Soderberg’s Sex, Lies, and Videotape, and Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing. It’s hard to overstate the impact of Spike Lee on a generation of filmmakers. He’s like Jimi Hendrix was for guitarists. You either embraced his approach and iterated on it or you consciously rejected it and went in another direction. There was no ignoring him.

Lee has made some great films in the last three decades, such as last year’s epic BlacKkKlansman, but Do The Right Thing remains a towering masterpiece of a film. It has also remained stubbornly relevant. The proxy fight over who gets to be on Sal’s Pizza wall is reflected today in a hundred conversations on representation in media. The senseless police brutality inflicted on Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn) looks like a dress rehearsal for the 2014 choking death of Eric Garner. The dilemmas faced by the protesters were hashed out by Lee before many of them were born.

The cast is among the most amazing ever assembled: Samuel L. Jackson, Ruby Dee, Ossie Davis, Giancarlo Esposito, Martin Lawrence, the recently deceased Paul Benjamin, and, in her film debut, a former Soul Train dancer named Rosie Perez. Lee opened the film with Perez dancing to Public Enemy’s anthem “Fight the Power” in what the film criticism website The Dissolve called the greatest pop music moment in film history.

Do The Right Thing Returns for 30th Anniversary Screening (2)

Crosstown Theater’s Arthouse film series will present the 30th anniversary of Do The Right Thing on Thursday, August 8th, at 7:30 p.m. The Memphis Flyer is giving away free tickets to the screening. If you would like to be in the drawing for two free tickets to the film, you can either email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com or send a message to our Facebook page. We’ll draw names for the winner at noon on Thursday.

Do The Right Thing Returns for 30th Anniversary Screening

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BlacKkKlansman

Spike Lee is many things, but subtle is not one of them.

Some directors like to seduce you into their world by offering up a figure with whom you can relate, then putting them in jeopardy. As the relatable hero feels threatened, so do you, and the thing which threatens them becomes, by proxy, your enemy, too. When Clint Eastwood opens American Sniper with his hero killing Iraqi women and children in order to “protect his brothers,” he assumes that you will identify with Chris Kyle because he’s a red-blooded American Navy SEAL.

Lee has never been like that, even when he’s doing a traditional war movie like 2008’s Miracle at St. Anna. A Lee hero is faced with an ethical dilemma and spends the film either weighing both sides before deciding to act, or explaining why he made his decision. The classic example is Mookie, the protagonist played by Lee himself in Do the Right Thing, but you can also see the same dynamic in 25th Hour. The central question is not “will our hero prevail?” so much as “will this person choose to act heroically?” The fact that, decades later, people still debate whether or not Mookie did the “right thing” speaks to the intellectual and moral power of Lee’s approach.

But while Lee’s approach to heroism is nuanced, the way he presents his heroes’ worlds and their choices is stark, bold, and in your face. Some directors are afraid to do anything that might puncture the veil of realism. Lee’s concern is immediate emotional impact. If a split-screen is what’s needed to drive the point home, Lee’s gotta have it. If he thinks an exaggerated, stagey performance will create the emotional beat he’s looking for, he’ll rev up his actor: Compare Giancarlo Esposito’s manic turn as Buggin’ Out in Do the Right Thing to his stoic, richly textured portrayal of Gus Fring in Breaking Bad. When it works, we get the majestic sweep of Malcom X. When it doesn’t, we get the disjointed, barely watchable Chi-Raq.

With the republic under siege by Trumpism, the time for subtlety has long passed. Lee rises to the occasion with BlacKkKlansman. When we meet Ron Stallworth (John David Washington), he’s fresh out of the police academy when he gets a job at the Colorado Springs Police Department. At first, he’s assigned to the evidence room, but when Kwame Ture (aka Stokely Carmichael, played by Corey Hawkins) comes to town to speak at the university, Stallworth is assigned to infiltrate the local campus activists, because he’s the only black man on the force. Stallworth just wants to keep his head down and do his job, but the speech pricks his conscience. When he meets the supposedly menacing black radicals, they turn out to be nerdy kids led by beautiful student Patrice (Laura Harrier). Lee’s impressionistic presentation of Ture’s speech — and Stallworth’s awakening — is the film’s first transcendent moment.

John David Washington and Topher Grace in BlacKkKlansman

To deepen Stallworth’s dilemma, his superiors are so impressed with his first undercover assignment that they promote him to detective. While perusing the newspaper at the office one day, he happens across a recruitment ad for the Ku Klux Klan, and on a lark, calls the number. Expecting to hear a recorded message, he’s shocked when someone actually picks up the phone. Stallworth was not raised in the South and his years among cops at the academy have helped him perfect his code switching, so he sounds white enough to convince the Klan recruiter to set up a meeting. It’s all so unexpectedly easy, he makes a rookie mistake: He gives out his own name instead of making up a cover identity.

Since Stallworth’s giant natural haircut won’t exactly fit under a Klan hood, he has to send in a ringer, in the person of Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver). Flip finds that the local blood-and-soil types aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, and is instantly accepted into the haters club, despite the fact that he is clearly Jewish. Meanwhile, Stallworth works the phones until he’s on a first-name basis with the Grand Wizard himself, David Duke (Topher Grace).

In Washington and Driver, Lee finds two actors who understand his methods and deliver exceptional performances. If Lee is unsubtle, it’s because he’s trying to point out America’s racial blind spots to half his audience. His didactic tendencies that came off as too preachy in the Obama era seem all too timely now. Personally, I would have cut the coda that ties the “for real shit” of BlacKkKlansman to last year’s deadly neo-Nazi rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, leaving it to the audience to make the connection on their own. But this is a Spike Lee joint, and the great director wants to be damn sure you understand.

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Chi-Raq

There’s so much to say about Spike Lee’s Chi-Raq, I don’t know where to begin.

One of the film’s themes is the nature of power. Since its inception, the film industry has been characterized by a struggle for power between directors, producers, stars, and writers. As seen in Trumbo, the first to lose the battle were the writers, so they decamped to television. The power of the old-line Hollywood studios declined in the late 1960s, so the 1970s saw the ascendance of the director and, as a result, a second golden age of American film. In 1980, the directors’ power was broken on the rocks of Heaven’s Gate, and by the end of the decade, movie stars like Arnold Schwarzenneger and Tom Cruise were in charge, commanding high salaries and exerting creative control. The indie film revolution of the 1990s, which Spike Lee helped kick off, was on some level an attempt to reclaim the directors’ power. Now, in the twilight of the movie stars, power has reverted to the producers, and so resources are tied up in making endless sequels and reboots of proven properties. Enter Amazon, the internet retail powerhouse who is making a big push into video. For their first foray into theatrical film, they tapped Lee and apparently gave him free rein. Lee responded by going absolutely insane.

Teyonah Parris as Lysistrata

2015 finds Lee in a familiar state: energized with righteous rage. The director could have taken a look at widespread reports of police brutality against people of color and the resulting Black Lives Matter movement, pointed at his 1989 masterpiece Do the Right Thing, and said “I told you so!” Instead, he made Chi-Raq, which is like nothing else in theaters today. It’s a satire, a comedy, and a musical. It’s also based on a 2,500-year-old Greek play called Lysistrata, and so it is written mostly in rhyming verse. And yet, Chi-Raq is even weirder than it sounds. The first five minutes or so are essentially a lyric music video for “Pray 4 My City,” with nothing but text and an animated image of a map of the United States made up entirely of guns. When we finally do see someone on screen, it’s the rapper Chi-Raq (Nick Cannon) rocking a packed club. Then the action freezes, and we meet Dolmedes, the narrator/chorus played by national treasure Samuel L. Jackson in full Rufus Thomas mode.

I would be content listening to Jackson speak in rhyme for two hours. Fortunately, Lee introduces us to Teyonah Parris as Lysistrata, a powerhouse of confidence and sexual energy. After witnessing the horrors of street violence and having her apartment burned down by a rival gang out to kill her boyfriend Chi-Raq, Lysistrata is inspired by Miss Helen (Angela Bassett) to organize a sex strike, asserting their power by “seizing the means of reproduction.” The gangs will either end their senseless violence or go without booty. The sex strike spreads until, as Dave Chappelle says in a hilarious cameo as a strip-club owner, “Even the hoes is no-shows.”

The sprawling cast includes Wesley Snipes, Jennifer Hudson, and token white guy John Cusack as a priest who shouts himself hoarse at a funeral for a little girl killed in the gang crossfire. Cusack looks more engaged and passionate onscreen than he has in years, but his big scene is also a symptom of what’s wrong with Chi-Raq. In isolation, it’s a powerful scene, as Lee and screenwriter Kevin Willmott indict the whole sociopolitical system that keeps African Americans locked in cycles of poverty and violence. But in the context of the film, it’s a momentum killer. Free to follow his wildest impulses, Lee constructs one killer image after another, but little thought seems to have been given as to how it all fits together, which means Chi-Raq adds up to less than the sum of its impressive parts.

It’s inspiring to see a talent of Lee’s caliber swing for the fences. Chi-Raq may not be perfect, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

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Retro Video: Do The Right Thing

Back in July when the Memphis Flyer was celebrating its 25th anniversary, former film editor Greg Akers asked me and Addison Engelking to make lists of our favorite movies of the past 25 years. Since I hate lists, I decided to write the story of the indie film movement. Engelking warned me that it was a fool’s errand, but I did it anyway, and it turned out okay. But every day since the story ran, I have thought of another movie I should have included. My most egregious omission was Spike Lee’s breakthrough, Do The Right Thing. So I resolved to use my first week as the Flyer‘s film editor to rectify my error. Little did I know how timely it would be.

Looking back on it after a decade and a half of digital verité, the film seems intentionally stagey and dramatic, like a hip hop West Side Story. The Hattiloo could probably do a killer live adaptation without changing the script very much. But confining it to the proscenium would rob it of Lee’s visual sense, which gives the story a dreamlike quality. Lee’s visual vocabulary is stylish but clear. He ranges freely from sensationalist blaxploitation camera moves to Martin Scorsese street grit to F.W. Murnau expressionism, but every move has a reason; nothing is just for show.

Do The Right Thing is about tribalism. Each of the 27 or so characters who passes through the Bedford Stuyvesant corner on the sweltering summer day is identified with his or her tribes and subtribes: black, white, Hispanic, Asian, businessman, bum, old, young. Lee juggles the ensemble with the ease of Robert Altman, coaxing good performances out of both veterans like Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee, and then-newcomers Rosie Perez and Bill Nunn. Lee’s Mookie is reserved and observant as the exaggerated types parade around him, but ironically it’s Danny Aiello’s Sal who is the best drawn character in the entire ensemble, and it earned him a Best Actor Oscar nomination.

Do The Right Thing

Lee repeatedly highlights how our tribes enrich and protect us but also cause friction, distrust, and conflict. People talk past each other, such as the moment when Nunn’s Radio Raheem tries to buy batteries from a Korean shop owner. Each tribe acts self destructively at some point in the story, and when the inevitable riot breaks out, it’s everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault. Is Sal wrong to get mad when Bugging Out and Radio Raheem come into his business and blast Public Enemy? No, but he shouldn’t have smashed the boom box. Is Buggin’ Out’s demand to get some black faces on the walls of Sal’s Famous Pizza unreasonable? No, but it wasn’t worth destroying the center of the neighborhood because of it.

In Lee’s vision, society and race relations are the aggregated result of individual choices. We may be buffeted by the currents of tribe and class, but our moral choices are still our own. Does Mookie do the right thing by throwing the first trash can? Lee doesn’t give you the luxury of an easy answer. As Lyndon Johnson said, “Doing what’s right isn’t the problem. It is knowing what’s right.”

Then there’s “Fight The Power.” Lee asked Public Enemy’s Chuck D and Hank Shocklee to create an anthem for his film, and they turned in one of, if not the, greatest songs of the hip hop era. As the opening credits roll over Perez dancing fiercely like a boxer entering the ring, there is a sense of real danger. This was not just a perfect pairing of image and music, but pure cinema as a revolutionary act. And that’s just the opening credits.

Do The Right Thing was released in June 1989, and by the time I took my first film class in the fall of 1991, it was already part of the curriculum. It was controversial at the time, with some commentators suggesting that it would cause African-American audiences to riot. Rewatching it the same week as the riots over the police killing of an unarmed black teenager in Ferguson, Missouri, it’s clear that it is not a provocation, but a comment on a stubbornly persistent reality.