Making Cinema Great Again
2018 has been a lackluster year for film and it's already more than half way over. In my young phase of old-man-adolescence, I've made it abundantly clear that I'm growing tired of Marvel movies, I'm religiously fond of A24 Films, and that I'm all for all things considered indie or pretentious (if they're actually good). I've become self aware in this notion, and in the inevitable contradiction of orbiting my life around watching movies, one can't help but grow tired of the "same old." But that said, among all the dreadful retreads of Blockbuster filth; with every Meg and Jurassic World there have been a few occasional gems of legitimately good films; films that are remarkably progressive. But even more so than that, we have progressive filmmaking that's not just "good," but outstanding; flat-out original. We're talking content that's taking issues surrounding politics and race, heritage, etc; films that were clearly birthed from a post-2016-election Trump America, and they're making one hell of an impact, not by beating their messages over the heads of the audience, but by flipping audience expectations upside down and knocking filmgoers right on their ass.
And it's time we talked about it.
It's telling that the first legitimately quality flick of 2018 was Marvel's Black Panther. It was the first movie of the year that got instant buzz, not just because "Hey, in case you haven't had enough, here's another Marvel movie," but because the film was explosive with its empowering messages on race and tradition as well its morals on heritage and revenge (not to mention it was simply off the chain). Panther is a groundbreaking feat for comic book movies and a huge step forward for film in general. Considering White-Male America has been dominating film since the dawn of cinema, seeing something as profound as Black Panther; a picture that featured an almost entirely-colored cast and filled with strong female leads was relieving, regardless of the film's third act stumbling into formulaic Marvel traps.
What's important to note is that while yes, it's a remarkably progressive film, it's also simply an excellent movie.
Folks will remember my 2017 rant about how terrible Moonlight was. I found the whole thing to be a detestable picture that shoved its messages down the throats of audiences by using every cliche known to man in order to prove a progressive point, while focusing on the most uninteresting protagonist imaginable, at the speed of molasses. Films like Moonlight often inspire aggressive, left-wing, white apologists to clamor to the film's defense as infallible because they find such a film not just moving or beautiful, but significant. I'm not saying anyone's opinions are wrong in feeling this way but it was difficult to remove the blinders when it felt like everyone (including the Academy) will often wank to dog shit because "Hey, it's progressive."
Then again, I unabashedly gave into all the Hollywood tropes of La La Land so really, what do I know?
It's important to acknowledge that being progressive is not the problem. While yes, sometimes I feel it's a cop-out to blindly praise progression in film because liberal America will eat it up regardless (especially living in the horror movie that is the Trump presidency), to rely on the struggle of a minority group without context of quality storytelling or genuine character development is just crappy filmmaking, regardless of the subject matter...
...Which brings us back to 2018.
Save for 2017's year-long dark horse that became the Academy Award winner known as Get Out, (which is just a remarkable feat, not just for its progression but its use of both satire and horror), 2018 has exploded with genre-splitting power-pictures inspired by unique artists; people who are shouting sermons from a mountain top and their voices are gaining mad respect; a respect well earned.
If Black Panther was Marvel's response to a decades-long journey of evolving from white-washed comic book movies, the films of the modern day are showing signs of a remarkable recovery from a century's worth of white-washed cinema in general. Granted we still have a long way to go, the fact that Panther is the third highest grossing domestic film of all time speaks volumes beyond it just being another Marvel movie.
But even beyond Panther's representation of heritage and culture, 2018 also gave us Blindspotting, the surprising blend of drama and humor which speaks directly to black America in the wake of gun violence and police brutality; Sorry To Bother You, an empowering fable disguised as a goofy satire on the working class that evolves into a wicked dark comedy that mirrors the horrors of America's carelessness; and BlacKkKlansman, a film that if the premise isn't a loud enough metaphor for what's wrong with the racism in this country, is also based on a true story.
Whether these films were inspired by the 2016 election and the outcome of Trump's presidency thus far, the significance is that through drama, humor and autobiography, these are films that are sending a strong message and not (entirely) shoving it down the audience's throats. These are films that may initially seem like they're designed to bring shame to America, but they're also driving home a powerful point with well rounded characters, clever plot lines, unforeseen twists, and sometimes outrageous hilarity, in order to point this country in a proper direction. Make no mistake, these films won't impact anyone culturally at the moment, especially since most of them are creating expressionism through some form of absurdist humor, but a film like Klansman, like it or not, is far more significant in these times than something like American Animals which, while well crafted and cautionary, is just another tale of young, white, privileged males acting like idiots.
It's important to note the three aforementioned films as examples of progress that America needs in cinema. Chronologically these films specifically create a trifecta of social and racial awareness that just works in order to drive home their poignant messages. Together these three films exemplify what's wrong with America, often shining a very bright spotlight on our issues, but they also provide methods in legitimately inspiring greatness, and if these morals were indeed inspired by Trump attempting to "make America great again," then by all means let the artists come out let them be heard, because they're making a legitimately great impact on film.
I think Blindspotting is the best place to start because on the surface, the film is a response to police brutality. The plot is literally inspired by a black man who witnesses another black man who's all too quickly gunned down by a white, male police officer. In the age of the Kaepernick-kneel, one could watch a preview for Blindspotting and roll their eyes at the attempts to shout a bold message simply based off of what's trending in America's 99-problems-list. It's cynical to think someone would make a movie simply to cash in on the tragedies of this country but hey, we've been doing it for a long time now. If there's one legitimate blind spot to Blindspotting it's that the misleading previews might suggest it's a run-of-the-mill movie designed to shove a political message down a throat. This is indeed a misconception as the previews thankfully don't give way to the film's poignant personality at ALL.
Blindspotting's best advantage lies within the film's subtlety. We follow Daveed Diggs as every-man Collin and his trouble-making buddy Miles played by Rafael Casal. These are two dudes from Oakland, on parole for an honest mistake gone horribly wrong. Yes, the film is scattered with moments of direct racism towards Collin and other black folk who often look over their shoulder in fear when cop cars drive by but the film also uses these moments sparingly, taking a backseat to the evolution in character. Even a small addition of plot such as Collin's desire to be a rapper may seem irrelevant, but by the film's climax these plots pay off. Once Collin comes face to face with a white police officer, director Carlos Lopez Estrada uses the clash against police brutality by weaving in the narrative of Collin's ability to rap (not to mention Diggs' ability to rap in real life) to create that much more of an impacting third act, and it all leads to an ending that will leave its audience in chills.
It also doesn't hurt that the two lead actors happened to co-write the script together.
Blindspotting works because all of the film's politics; the racial transgressions and protests against violence; the wrongdoings of the justice system; all these harsh themes, rather than smother the audience, create a looming atmosphere over the entire movie, taking secondary to who the characters are and why we should care about them. It's a film that drives home all of its emotional messages without shoehorning in a last-minute reminder that the white male is still the devil (even though to a degree, the white male is still indeed the devil).
Even when the direct, in-your-face metaphors like Collin's courtroom-rap nightmare are all too obvious in driving the point across, the film still focuses on the characters first. A seemingly forgettable plot line like Collin's failing relationship with his ex-girlfriend, or Miles' inability to provide a healthy lifestyle for a family; these are actually constant everyday themes that are only affected by the injustice of the troubled justice system.
But even THEN, when the film feels all too serious, Blindspotting brings legitimate humor to the devastation of its character's situations in ways that are realistic and therefore effective as all hell. The film provides tons of social commentary, both deadly serious and heinously funny; from broken neighborhoods right down to a running joke about expensive kale smoothies.
The film provides realistic forms of character that are scarcely seen in message-movies these days. It hits hard with its racial poignancy like Boyz N The Hood did so well in 1991, while blending humor and thrilling drama sans 1989's Do The Right Thing. The only real blind spot to the film (aside from the fact that it's often legitimately laugh-out-loud funny) is that it's small but powerful. It's a flick that will fly completely under the radar and gain its following later on, with a lasting impacting in the way in which it drives home all of its morals.
And if Blindspotting is a step in the right direction in terms of driving home strong, controversial themes in an effective way, then Sorry To Bother You is the aggressive response to the f*cked up justice system. In a sense, both Blindspotting and STBY tackle the same exact themes of discrimination but both approaches create radically different outcomes.
Juxtaposed to Blindspotting's impact by way of subtlety, STBY blares its radically loud voice altering a true ying to the other's yang.
When Sorry To Bother You begins, it feels like a pure comedy. The story's bookends begin and end with Lakeith Stanfield as Cassius (Cash) Green; yes, a hero nicknamed Cash Green in a movie about money (10 points to being clever). Cash lives in a garage with his girlfriend Detroit, as played by Tessa Thompson and they struggle with poverty, although uncle Terry Crews is thrown in for good measure so nothing ever feels truly serious. Cash works as a telemarketer who is taught by the elder Langston (played by a hilariously careless Danny Glover) that the only way he'll ever persuade clients over the phone is by using a "white voice." Naturally once the old, black Glover speaks and the audience hears the immeasurably Caucasian voice of Steve Buscemi, one can't help but feel that Sorry isn't aiming much higher than genuine slapstick (no matter how hilarious the film genuinely gets).
But then the film really runs with its protest themes and the aggressive focus of director Boots Riley becomes frighteningly clear. Having started as an angry hip-hip artist, Boots is clearly a man of loud expressionism and with STBY, his anger really shines in.
Take Detroit's protesting for example. Save for the dope Easter-egg inclusion of Tessa Thompson's ever-changing earrings with giant, hanging words like 'KILL' and 'MURDER' Detroit is a character of fierce expressionism, often times through her artwork which boils down to artistic protest-statements, where Thompson appears under spotlight wearing nothing but makeshift undergarments made to look like rubber gloves grabbing all her private parts (instilling the fact that she's a total babe). Her protest plots are strong but even when these random occurrences may seem irrelevant to the bigger picture we return to Lekeith, as Cash's career tumbles down a dark rabbit hole of success. Green eventually comes to terms with having to choose a lifestyle of wealth or love. The themes are traditional and reminiscent of cautionary tales like The Devil's Advocate, but what Riley does with his third-act twist is completely out of left field.
And regardless of how straight-up-bananas the climax of the film gets, the entire payoff is built upon the humiliation and discrimination of its lower-class characters. An even deeper level breaches the film's underlying themes of explicit racism, even if by means of a goofy sub-plot where the black employees of a corporate company are ordered to speak in their "white voice" at all times, whether exchanging with clients or not. Riley's sneaky humor lies within the outright absurdity of the film's situations, so while seeing Lakeith and Omari Hardwick exchange dialogue, but to hear the voices of white comedians like David Cross and Patton Oswalt, we can't help but giggle, meanwhile the plot is secretly taking a dark turn right under our noses.
That's where Riley's genius comes in.
The corporate company these low-class folks work for is owned by a much larger parent-company that's literally called 'WorryFree,' and naturally that mega corporation is run by a rich, white, coke-snorting Armie Hammer named Steve Lift. As the third act progresses and as the audience gets to know the Lift character; as the racial and corporate satire go completely dark, the cautionary tale becomes an all-too explicitly outrageous metaphor for how easily the American people are persuaded by the media and what's trending, rather than acknowledge the harmful issues that are right in their faces.
The brilliance behind the outrageous third-act twist is that the film's "big problems" are completely fictional but their metaphors are all too clear, making the Trump satire indirectly direct. I won't get into it but you can read all about my plunge into the spoilers of it all, if you want (that is, if your eyeballs haven't fallen out of your head yet).
The film won't be for everyone, especially with that third act, but Sorry To Bother You is the exact kind of socially aware piece of political satire that cinema needs in order to drive its point across, that will leave a lasting impact. It's a loud, bold film with a ballsy director behind it, but it's also sending a clear message without calling out its direct problems. STBY is a film inspired by Trump, and a very clear middle finger aimed at Trump, as well as all the lemmings of blind Trump supporters, but the film never once uses Trump's name or nearly breaks the fourth wall in addressing what's wrong with our country right now.
Now if we're talking about Spike Lee, that's almost an entirely different joint...
I said it here and I'll say it again. BlacKkKlansman is the most racially and culturally significant film of 2018. Now, to bring things full circle you may point out that Black Panther is a bold example of expressionism in terms of tackling African culture and heritage, imprinting it as an important film and while that is certainly true, if Panther is the beast of peace then Klansman is the animal of aggression. Like the former, the latter has got people talking but it's also stirring up controversy. The reality is, while we all want peace on Earth, sometimes the people need someone like Spike to shout their anger from a mountain top and sometimes when they do, it works.
Truthfully I'm not a Spike Lee fan. While the man has created a blend of brilliance sans Do The Right Thing; while he's adapted powerful people like Malcom X; and when he tackles crime and injustice as well as in a sleeper like 25th Hour, the acclaimed director sometiems comes off as pretentious and far-too-explicit with his controversial themes. Now granted, more often than not Lee's target audience is struggling African Americans, so hearing complaints about the man's work from a white guy from Long Island may seem ignorant but speaking strictly from a film perspective, Spike has had potential to get his messages across without shouting them in your ear, and he's often missed that mark. With many of his films, a harsh line is crossed; and I get it. He wants to make it abundantly clear that the struggle is real, but the man has so much craftsmanship that he doesn't always need to rely on going that extra mile. And with Klansman he ALMOST gets to the finish line without taking the extra leap... Almost.
Let me be less vague.
BlacKkKlansman is the best Spike Lee Joint since the criminally underrated Inside Man, the 2006 crime-thriller of a clever heist flick that doesn't have many traces of Lee's past work. It's a poignant film that should truly be seen by all, especially in the current wake of the state of the nation.
Klansman is more akin to the powerful build of Do The Right Thing. By tackling the all-too-true story of Ron Stallworth, Lee immediately delves into a literal divide by focusing on a black man going undercover as a detective to infiltrate and expose the Ku Klux Klan. The plot itself creates immediate tension but the fact that this is based on Stallworth's book and is under the account of Ron Stallworth himself, the film is way more effective than by just being some "fo' real fo' real shit" as the film puts.
What makes Klansman work is that it throws in much-needed humor for good measure. Lee exploits the Klan with stereotypes of goofy rednecks with thick mustaches, denim jackets, who drive around in flatbeds, drinking Coors lite, waving the confederate flag. The characters of the Klan are easy targets because by looking at them in 2018, save for the ridiculous white robes, their entire image comes off as rather ridiculous. Now granted, the fact that the story takes place in the 70s only createa a staple to the cartoonish behavior of these characters, but like Boots did with Sorry, Spike wants to drive home a poignant point that stays with the audience long after the credits roll.
The unfortunate moral to Stallworth's story, at least from Spike's perspective, is that while racism in the 70s had been a very real, explicit and terrible thing that had been going on in America for over two-hundred years, it's still very much so an issue today. What balances the shame of Klansman's blunt message is that the themes of powerful protest are incredibly effective, even remotely.
The 1970s is the perfect era to depict the story, but it's also telling that Ron Stallworth began this whole operation during this specific time period, simply based on an urge; almost as a dare, after reading an ad in the newspaper. This was an extreme time of aggression because Martin Luther King Jr. was a prominent figure; a martyr to people of color, and black power had literally become a movement. The KKK was very present and racism was more radical than it had ever been spawning protest movements that would last for literal generations.
There's a scene where Ron (John David Washington) and his love interest Patrice (Laura Harrier) discuss Shaft and Superfly and debate what's worse, to pose as a cop or a pimp, and it's a telling moment because this was in the wake of blacksploitation in cinema. Here are characters in a film discussing films that feature buff black men with Afros and leather jackets; cool dudes with pistols who fought for the law but morally fought injustice.
It's a bit of a meta scene albeit one that expresses the themes of what the heroes of cinema represented for black people during that time.
Earlier in the film, radical spokesman Kwame Ture (Corey Hawkins) delivers a powerful speech about oppression and why fighting back is the answer, whether through means of protest or preparing for a white uprising. The way in which Spike frames his shots in this scene is prominent, as he even uses old school fades with close-ups of the young, black students; their eyes filled with hope. Ture uses Tarzan as an example of white-American, propaganda filmmaking in its attempts to paint the white Tarzan as the hero, and the black savages as the villains, in order to bring justification to the downfall of the black man.
While these are explicit parallels, Lee often captures poignant moments such as these with brilliantly stylized filmmaking, whether they be fading, framing or coloring that harks back to 1970s films themselves. The entire film is immersed in the era, beyond just depicting an autobiographical time period.
As the stakes of the plot grow higher the comedy is swallowed by legitimate drama as our love for characters like Ron or his covert partner Flip (Adam Driver) are transformed into pure fear as their undercover mission becomes ever more likely to be exposed. But even when Grand Wizard of the Klan, David Duke (Topher Grace) shows up we can't help but laugh at his good Christian "America First" attitude, as its so cleanly and pristine, that his politeness only makes his racism that much more evil.
Duke's ideals of white America seem so far to the right that they're all too far fetched and yet, as we chuckle at Duke's very Trump-ish dialogue, deep down we may feel the urge to cower with shame as David Duke is very much so a real person; his words have had significant influence on the way some folks still think, and as the final clips of the film show, his reign is still very prominent in this country today.
The fact that Lee opens his film with Gone With The Wind is already enough of a bold move. Juxtaposed to Birth of a Nation, an explicitly racist film which is literally screened in celebration by the Klan in the film's third act, GWTW is much more subtle with its racism as it romanticizes slavery, creating a parallel to Ture's comparison to Tarzan films. The fact that inflated, Gone With The Wind is globally the highest grossing film of all time creates enough of an example to drive home the injustice of racism that Spike's very characters discuss, giving the director's explicit themes that much more gravity.
To put the hammer in the nail, the reality that this whole thing is based on a true story is enough to merit the extremism of Spike's craft, but to back it up with examples of real people, real films and real events provide the film with a legitimate case of discussion.
The film's last two minutes will be the most controversial for sure. While I understand Spike's intention to bookend the film with clips of racism whether depicted subtly in the media of 1939 or explicitly in the streets of Charlottesville in 2017, the end of the film is literally an exploitation of the modern day racist, white male, but it's also a direct middle finger to Trump's response to the situation, if not his entire presidency thus far.
And while the ending hits hard, and while Trump is clearly a racist buffoon, Lee had already driven home such a strong point up until that point that the inclusion of the those riots, while important to acknowledge, don't add to the quality of storytelling, albeit it is the perfect example as to just how much racism has not changed in America in the near 40 years since Stallworth exposed the Klan.
The significance of it all is that Lee went out to preach a message and he got his point across loud and clear.
While these films will range from underwhelming to controversial for some, due to the extremism if not pure lunacy in the decisions of its directors, this is RADICAL filmmaking that America is thriving for at the moment. Although the messages may be too loud for some; the metaphors alarmingly obvious for others, these are pictures of pure expressionism from filmmakers that are at least SAYING something.
It doesn't matter that Boots Riley is ironically calling out Spike Lee for misinterpreting the factual events of Stallworth's case in order to make a pro-police picture, at least neither of them are butchering Jurassic Park into an insufferable, mindless franchise that literally only exists to milk money.
Factual or not, these are films with clear, direct morals and they're ones with lasting purpose regardless of how much the audience may or may not take away from them, and in the end isn't that why we go to the movies?
Sure, Sorry To Bother You may be one of the most outrageous films I've ever seen in my life, but because it crosses that threshold of absurdity it's also one of the most entertaining films I've ever seen. Boots Riley might be trying to say, "Hey, things are bad but don't take life so seriously," while Spike Lee is clearly saying the exact opposite. Dudes like Daveed Diggs are out here writing scripts about police brutality, but he also might just want to make a powerful picture that's chock full of legitimately hilarious moments. Meanwhile Ryan Coogler might be making one of the boldest forms of film expressionism on African culture, but in the end is he not also still just making another Marvel movie?
The significance of filmmakers such as these is that they represent the values of endearing entertainment that moviegoers hold so dear, but they're also here to say something of value. Call their voices preachy, or bask in their glory; whatever the feeling is, whether inspired by a lunatic of a president, or be it just wanting to present a bold message, these people are creating expressionism through pure art, if even some of it is purely insane. At least they're putting out original content.
If there's one reason to look up to any of the downfalls of 2018 in America, at least from an entertainment perspective, it's because the media is soaring right now, even if at a low altitude; that among all the white-washed feces of the box office, these filmmakers with their unique craft are giving us reasons to trek back to the movies again. In a sense, they truly are making cinema great again. And dammit, if that's not American enough for you, then it is for the cinephile slackers of the country.
And it's time we talked about it.
- BLACK PANTHER
It's telling that the first legitimately quality flick of 2018 was Marvel's Black Panther. It was the first movie of the year that got instant buzz, not just because "Hey, in case you haven't had enough, here's another Marvel movie," but because the film was explosive with its empowering messages on race and tradition as well its morals on heritage and revenge (not to mention it was simply off the chain). Panther is a groundbreaking feat for comic book movies and a huge step forward for film in general. Considering White-Male America has been dominating film since the dawn of cinema, seeing something as profound as Black Panther; a picture that featured an almost entirely-colored cast and filled with strong female leads was relieving, regardless of the film's third act stumbling into formulaic Marvel traps.
What's important to note is that while yes, it's a remarkably progressive film, it's also simply an excellent movie.
Folks will remember my 2017 rant about how terrible Moonlight was. I found the whole thing to be a detestable picture that shoved its messages down the throats of audiences by using every cliche known to man in order to prove a progressive point, while focusing on the most uninteresting protagonist imaginable, at the speed of molasses. Films like Moonlight often inspire aggressive, left-wing, white apologists to clamor to the film's defense as infallible because they find such a film not just moving or beautiful, but significant. I'm not saying anyone's opinions are wrong in feeling this way but it was difficult to remove the blinders when it felt like everyone (including the Academy) will often wank to dog shit because "Hey, it's progressive."
Then again, I unabashedly gave into all the Hollywood tropes of La La Land so really, what do I know?
It's important to acknowledge that being progressive is not the problem. While yes, sometimes I feel it's a cop-out to blindly praise progression in film because liberal America will eat it up regardless (especially living in the horror movie that is the Trump presidency), to rely on the struggle of a minority group without context of quality storytelling or genuine character development is just crappy filmmaking, regardless of the subject matter...
...Which brings us back to 2018.
Save for 2017's year-long dark horse that became the Academy Award winner known as Get Out, (which is just a remarkable feat, not just for its progression but its use of both satire and horror), 2018 has exploded with genre-splitting power-pictures inspired by unique artists; people who are shouting sermons from a mountain top and their voices are gaining mad respect; a respect well earned.
If Black Panther was Marvel's response to a decades-long journey of evolving from white-washed comic book movies, the films of the modern day are showing signs of a remarkable recovery from a century's worth of white-washed cinema in general. Granted we still have a long way to go, the fact that Panther is the third highest grossing domestic film of all time speaks volumes beyond it just being another Marvel movie.
But even beyond Panther's representation of heritage and culture, 2018 also gave us Blindspotting, the surprising blend of drama and humor which speaks directly to black America in the wake of gun violence and police brutality; Sorry To Bother You, an empowering fable disguised as a goofy satire on the working class that evolves into a wicked dark comedy that mirrors the horrors of America's carelessness; and BlacKkKlansman, a film that if the premise isn't a loud enough metaphor for what's wrong with the racism in this country, is also based on a true story.
Whether these films were inspired by the 2016 election and the outcome of Trump's presidency thus far, the significance is that through drama, humor and autobiography, these are films that are sending a strong message and not (entirely) shoving it down the audience's throats. These are films that may initially seem like they're designed to bring shame to America, but they're also driving home a powerful point with well rounded characters, clever plot lines, unforeseen twists, and sometimes outrageous hilarity, in order to point this country in a proper direction. Make no mistake, these films won't impact anyone culturally at the moment, especially since most of them are creating expressionism through some form of absurdist humor, but a film like Klansman, like it or not, is far more significant in these times than something like American Animals which, while well crafted and cautionary, is just another tale of young, white, privileged males acting like idiots.
It's important to note the three aforementioned films as examples of progress that America needs in cinema. Chronologically these films specifically create a trifecta of social and racial awareness that just works in order to drive home their poignant messages. Together these three films exemplify what's wrong with America, often shining a very bright spotlight on our issues, but they also provide methods in legitimately inspiring greatness, and if these morals were indeed inspired by Trump attempting to "make America great again," then by all means let the artists come out let them be heard, because they're making a legitimately great impact on film.
- BLINDSPOTTING
I think Blindspotting is the best place to start because on the surface, the film is a response to police brutality. The plot is literally inspired by a black man who witnesses another black man who's all too quickly gunned down by a white, male police officer. In the age of the Kaepernick-kneel, one could watch a preview for Blindspotting and roll their eyes at the attempts to shout a bold message simply based off of what's trending in America's 99-problems-list. It's cynical to think someone would make a movie simply to cash in on the tragedies of this country but hey, we've been doing it for a long time now. If there's one legitimate blind spot to Blindspotting it's that the misleading previews might suggest it's a run-of-the-mill movie designed to shove a political message down a throat. This is indeed a misconception as the previews thankfully don't give way to the film's poignant personality at ALL.
Blindspotting's best advantage lies within the film's subtlety. We follow Daveed Diggs as every-man Collin and his trouble-making buddy Miles played by Rafael Casal. These are two dudes from Oakland, on parole for an honest mistake gone horribly wrong. Yes, the film is scattered with moments of direct racism towards Collin and other black folk who often look over their shoulder in fear when cop cars drive by but the film also uses these moments sparingly, taking a backseat to the evolution in character. Even a small addition of plot such as Collin's desire to be a rapper may seem irrelevant, but by the film's climax these plots pay off. Once Collin comes face to face with a white police officer, director Carlos Lopez Estrada uses the clash against police brutality by weaving in the narrative of Collin's ability to rap (not to mention Diggs' ability to rap in real life) to create that much more of an impacting third act, and it all leads to an ending that will leave its audience in chills.
It also doesn't hurt that the two lead actors happened to co-write the script together.
Killing it.
Even when the direct, in-your-face metaphors like Collin's courtroom-rap nightmare are all too obvious in driving the point across, the film still focuses on the characters first. A seemingly forgettable plot line like Collin's failing relationship with his ex-girlfriend, or Miles' inability to provide a healthy lifestyle for a family; these are actually constant everyday themes that are only affected by the injustice of the troubled justice system.
But even THEN, when the film feels all too serious, Blindspotting brings legitimate humor to the devastation of its character's situations in ways that are realistic and therefore effective as all hell. The film provides tons of social commentary, both deadly serious and heinously funny; from broken neighborhoods right down to a running joke about expensive kale smoothies.
The film provides realistic forms of character that are scarcely seen in message-movies these days. It hits hard with its racial poignancy like Boyz N The Hood did so well in 1991, while blending humor and thrilling drama sans 1989's Do The Right Thing. The only real blind spot to the film (aside from the fact that it's often legitimately laugh-out-loud funny) is that it's small but powerful. It's a flick that will fly completely under the radar and gain its following later on, with a lasting impacting in the way in which it drives home all of its morals.
And if Blindspotting is a step in the right direction in terms of driving home strong, controversial themes in an effective way, then Sorry To Bother You is the aggressive response to the f*cked up justice system. In a sense, both Blindspotting and STBY tackle the same exact themes of discrimination but both approaches create radically different outcomes.
Juxtaposed to Blindspotting's impact by way of subtlety, STBY blares its radically loud voice altering a true ying to the other's yang.
- SORRY TO BOTHER YOU
When Sorry To Bother You begins, it feels like a pure comedy. The story's bookends begin and end with Lakeith Stanfield as Cassius (Cash) Green; yes, a hero nicknamed Cash Green in a movie about money (10 points to being clever). Cash lives in a garage with his girlfriend Detroit, as played by Tessa Thompson and they struggle with poverty, although uncle Terry Crews is thrown in for good measure so nothing ever feels truly serious. Cash works as a telemarketer who is taught by the elder Langston (played by a hilariously careless Danny Glover) that the only way he'll ever persuade clients over the phone is by using a "white voice." Naturally once the old, black Glover speaks and the audience hears the immeasurably Caucasian voice of Steve Buscemi, one can't help but feel that Sorry isn't aiming much higher than genuine slapstick (no matter how hilarious the film genuinely gets).
But then the film really runs with its protest themes and the aggressive focus of director Boots Riley becomes frighteningly clear. Having started as an angry hip-hip artist, Boots is clearly a man of loud expressionism and with STBY, his anger really shines in.
Take Detroit's protesting for example. Save for the dope Easter-egg inclusion of Tessa Thompson's ever-changing earrings with giant, hanging words like 'KILL' and 'MURDER' Detroit is a character of fierce expressionism, often times through her artwork which boils down to artistic protest-statements, where Thompson appears under spotlight wearing nothing but makeshift undergarments made to look like rubber gloves grabbing all her private parts (instilling the fact that she's a total babe). Her protest plots are strong but even when these random occurrences may seem irrelevant to the bigger picture we return to Lekeith, as Cash's career tumbles down a dark rabbit hole of success. Green eventually comes to terms with having to choose a lifestyle of wealth or love. The themes are traditional and reminiscent of cautionary tales like The Devil's Advocate, but what Riley does with his third-act twist is completely out of left field.
You literally won't see it coming.
And regardless of how straight-up-bananas the climax of the film gets, the entire payoff is built upon the humiliation and discrimination of its lower-class characters. An even deeper level breaches the film's underlying themes of explicit racism, even if by means of a goofy sub-plot where the black employees of a corporate company are ordered to speak in their "white voice" at all times, whether exchanging with clients or not. Riley's sneaky humor lies within the outright absurdity of the film's situations, so while seeing Lakeith and Omari Hardwick exchange dialogue, but to hear the voices of white comedians like David Cross and Patton Oswalt, we can't help but giggle, meanwhile the plot is secretly taking a dark turn right under our noses.
That's where Riley's genius comes in.
The corporate company these low-class folks work for is owned by a much larger parent-company that's literally called 'WorryFree,' and naturally that mega corporation is run by a rich, white, coke-snorting Armie Hammer named Steve Lift. As the third act progresses and as the audience gets to know the Lift character; as the racial and corporate satire go completely dark, the cautionary tale becomes an all-too explicitly outrageous metaphor for how easily the American people are persuaded by the media and what's trending, rather than acknowledge the harmful issues that are right in their faces.
The brilliance behind the outrageous third-act twist is that the film's "big problems" are completely fictional but their metaphors are all too clear, making the Trump satire indirectly direct. I won't get into it but you can read all about my plunge into the spoilers of it all, if you want (that is, if your eyeballs haven't fallen out of your head yet).
The film won't be for everyone, especially with that third act, but Sorry To Bother You is the exact kind of socially aware piece of political satire that cinema needs in order to drive its point across, that will leave a lasting impact. It's a loud, bold film with a ballsy director behind it, but it's also sending a clear message without calling out its direct problems. STBY is a film inspired by Trump, and a very clear middle finger aimed at Trump, as well as all the lemmings of blind Trump supporters, but the film never once uses Trump's name or nearly breaks the fourth wall in addressing what's wrong with our country right now.
Now if we're talking about Spike Lee, that's almost an entirely different joint...
- BLACKKKLANSMAN
I said it here and I'll say it again. BlacKkKlansman is the most racially and culturally significant film of 2018. Now, to bring things full circle you may point out that Black Panther is a bold example of expressionism in terms of tackling African culture and heritage, imprinting it as an important film and while that is certainly true, if Panther is the beast of peace then Klansman is the animal of aggression. Like the former, the latter has got people talking but it's also stirring up controversy. The reality is, while we all want peace on Earth, sometimes the people need someone like Spike to shout their anger from a mountain top and sometimes when they do, it works.
Truthfully I'm not a Spike Lee fan. While the man has created a blend of brilliance sans Do The Right Thing; while he's adapted powerful people like Malcom X; and when he tackles crime and injustice as well as in a sleeper like 25th Hour, the acclaimed director sometiems comes off as pretentious and far-too-explicit with his controversial themes. Now granted, more often than not Lee's target audience is struggling African Americans, so hearing complaints about the man's work from a white guy from Long Island may seem ignorant but speaking strictly from a film perspective, Spike has had potential to get his messages across without shouting them in your ear, and he's often missed that mark. With many of his films, a harsh line is crossed; and I get it. He wants to make it abundantly clear that the struggle is real, but the man has so much craftsmanship that he doesn't always need to rely on going that extra mile. And with Klansman he ALMOST gets to the finish line without taking the extra leap... Almost.
Let me be less vague.
BlacKkKlansman is the best Spike Lee Joint since the criminally underrated Inside Man, the 2006 crime-thriller of a clever heist flick that doesn't have many traces of Lee's past work. It's a poignant film that should truly be seen by all, especially in the current wake of the state of the nation.
Klansman is more akin to the powerful build of Do The Right Thing. By tackling the all-too-true story of Ron Stallworth, Lee immediately delves into a literal divide by focusing on a black man going undercover as a detective to infiltrate and expose the Ku Klux Klan. The plot itself creates immediate tension but the fact that this is based on Stallworth's book and is under the account of Ron Stallworth himself, the film is way more effective than by just being some "fo' real fo' real shit" as the film puts.
What makes Klansman work is that it throws in much-needed humor for good measure. Lee exploits the Klan with stereotypes of goofy rednecks with thick mustaches, denim jackets, who drive around in flatbeds, drinking Coors lite, waving the confederate flag. The characters of the Klan are easy targets because by looking at them in 2018, save for the ridiculous white robes, their entire image comes off as rather ridiculous. Now granted, the fact that the story takes place in the 70s only createa a staple to the cartoonish behavior of these characters, but like Boots did with Sorry, Spike wants to drive home a poignant point that stays with the audience long after the credits roll.
The unfortunate moral to Stallworth's story, at least from Spike's perspective, is that while racism in the 70s had been a very real, explicit and terrible thing that had been going on in America for over two-hundred years, it's still very much so an issue today. What balances the shame of Klansman's blunt message is that the themes of powerful protest are incredibly effective, even remotely.
The 1970s is the perfect era to depict the story, but it's also telling that Ron Stallworth began this whole operation during this specific time period, simply based on an urge; almost as a dare, after reading an ad in the newspaper. This was an extreme time of aggression because Martin Luther King Jr. was a prominent figure; a martyr to people of color, and black power had literally become a movement. The KKK was very present and racism was more radical than it had ever been spawning protest movements that would last for literal generations.
There's a scene where Ron (John David Washington) and his love interest Patrice (Laura Harrier) discuss Shaft and Superfly and debate what's worse, to pose as a cop or a pimp, and it's a telling moment because this was in the wake of blacksploitation in cinema. Here are characters in a film discussing films that feature buff black men with Afros and leather jackets; cool dudes with pistols who fought for the law but morally fought injustice.
It's a bit of a meta scene albeit one that expresses the themes of what the heroes of cinema represented for black people during that time.
Earlier in the film, radical spokesman Kwame Ture (Corey Hawkins) delivers a powerful speech about oppression and why fighting back is the answer, whether through means of protest or preparing for a white uprising. The way in which Spike frames his shots in this scene is prominent, as he even uses old school fades with close-ups of the young, black students; their eyes filled with hope. Ture uses Tarzan as an example of white-American, propaganda filmmaking in its attempts to paint the white Tarzan as the hero, and the black savages as the villains, in order to bring justification to the downfall of the black man.
While these are explicit parallels, Lee often captures poignant moments such as these with brilliantly stylized filmmaking, whether they be fading, framing or coloring that harks back to 1970s films themselves. The entire film is immersed in the era, beyond just depicting an autobiographical time period.

Duke's ideals of white America seem so far to the right that they're all too far fetched and yet, as we chuckle at Duke's very Trump-ish dialogue, deep down we may feel the urge to cower with shame as David Duke is very much so a real person; his words have had significant influence on the way some folks still think, and as the final clips of the film show, his reign is still very prominent in this country today.
The fact that Lee opens his film with Gone With The Wind is already enough of a bold move. Juxtaposed to Birth of a Nation, an explicitly racist film which is literally screened in celebration by the Klan in the film's third act, GWTW is much more subtle with its racism as it romanticizes slavery, creating a parallel to Ture's comparison to Tarzan films. The fact that inflated, Gone With The Wind is globally the highest grossing film of all time creates enough of an example to drive home the injustice of racism that Spike's very characters discuss, giving the director's explicit themes that much more gravity.
To put the hammer in the nail, the reality that this whole thing is based on a true story is enough to merit the extremism of Spike's craft, but to back it up with examples of real people, real films and real events provide the film with a legitimate case of discussion.

And while the ending hits hard, and while Trump is clearly a racist buffoon, Lee had already driven home such a strong point up until that point that the inclusion of the those riots, while important to acknowledge, don't add to the quality of storytelling, albeit it is the perfect example as to just how much racism has not changed in America in the near 40 years since Stallworth exposed the Klan.
The significance of it all is that Lee went out to preach a message and he got his point across loud and clear.
While these films will range from underwhelming to controversial for some, due to the extremism if not pure lunacy in the decisions of its directors, this is RADICAL filmmaking that America is thriving for at the moment. Although the messages may be too loud for some; the metaphors alarmingly obvious for others, these are pictures of pure expressionism from filmmakers that are at least SAYING something.
It doesn't matter that Boots Riley is ironically calling out Spike Lee for misinterpreting the factual events of Stallworth's case in order to make a pro-police picture, at least neither of them are butchering Jurassic Park into an insufferable, mindless franchise that literally only exists to milk money.
Factual or not, these are films with clear, direct morals and they're ones with lasting purpose regardless of how much the audience may or may not take away from them, and in the end isn't that why we go to the movies?
The significance of filmmakers such as these is that they represent the values of endearing entertainment that moviegoers hold so dear, but they're also here to say something of value. Call their voices preachy, or bask in their glory; whatever the feeling is, whether inspired by a lunatic of a president, or be it just wanting to present a bold message, these people are creating expressionism through pure art, if even some of it is purely insane. At least they're putting out original content.
If there's one reason to look up to any of the downfalls of 2018 in America, at least from an entertainment perspective, it's because the media is soaring right now, even if at a low altitude; that among all the white-washed feces of the box office, these filmmakers with their unique craft are giving us reasons to trek back to the movies again. In a sense, they truly are making cinema great again. And dammit, if that's not American enough for you, then it is for the cinephile slackers of the country.
ALL POWER TO ALL THE PEOPLE
All movies to all the hopeless writers in hopes of wasting time.
Thank you once again, for allowing me to waste yours.