Robin Harris, 1953 -1990, R.I.P.
A tantalizing article in the LA Times alerted me to the upcoming 20th anniversary for Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing. Has it been that long? The article describes the obstacles faced by Lee trying to secure financing. I like how he gives a shout out to Tom Pollock and says that Pollock is the film's unsung hero. It also details some of the ignorant nonsense that Lee faced by the critics because they assumed black people would lose their minds and burn theaters down after viewing his flick:
And, these were the film critics! I don't think anyone is surprised when the money men and people with green-light power seem like narrow-minded fuckos who have jumped up their own asses. In theory (or am I naive pickaninny who's fresh off massa's plantation?), critics should be displaying thoughtful consideration in their writing while informing by using context and a broader knowledge of the world and film history. I don't know that actually ever existed in reality. At best, an honest opinion was delivered succinctly and distinctions were made between fine art and pure enjoyment. Now, Ben Lyons is inflicted on the public and fanboys rule the blogs. Feh. But, I digress. The topic is the miracle that was the release of Do The Right Thing 20 years ago.
To celebrate the anniversary, Universal Pictures is releasing a two-disc DVD that includes new commentary by Spike Lee, more documentary footage, and an oral history of the film's making as remembered by crew and cast. I'm a slut for oral histories, so this new edition of the DVD immediately makes my birthday wish list. The list of people speaking about the film is impressive, but the three standouts for me are Spike Lee, Rosie Perez, and Ernest Dickerson.
I like that Lee always has something to say and he's one of the last directors who can successfully translate that opinion into a provocative visual statement. Lee always brings it visually, but I find that his dialogue wins or loses depending on the actors delivering it. (I just realized that Annabella Sciorra annoys me no matter what she does.) The person who delivers Lee best is Lee himself...Denzel is damn close, but, Spike is king of his own material. I will admit that sometimes Lee has the ability to talk out of his ass, but sometimes a great improviser is going to FAIL. But, it's worth it to show up and keep an open mind.
Rosie Perez has one of the best voices ever. I would consider it an honor to be cussed out by this woman. It's not a surprise that people want to hear her say "Mookie" over and over. She should make a ringtone of her raggin' him, sell it on iTunes and count the sheckles as they drop into her bank account. I don't think it's her accent that mesmerizes me. It's the combination of tone, breath, how she hits certain beats--just like a great horn player, by the way. And, that's just the aural effect. Pair that with her eyes and the formidable body language she uses as a former dancer. She could have been born in Minsk and she'd still bitchslap people with that voice and stance.
I'm also a slut for the deft use of saturated color and bringing weight to light. This film perfectly transmits the simplicity and languor of summer, while simultaneously conveying the body-blocking oppression of city heat. So, my back will straighten and my eyes will widen when Mr. Ernest Dickerson, the cinematographer, comes onto screen. I only have loonie lurve for what this man accomplished with this film (and Mo' Better Blues and Malcolm X). The same feeling clouds my mind when I remember my first Crayola 64 box from the first grade.
As well as the three above, there are pithy insights provided by Danny Aiello, John Turturro, Martin Lawrence, Giancarlo Esposito, Chuck D (!), and more. To place the film in context, it busted loose around the time of Driving Miss Daisy and sex, lies and videotape. It's mentioned that Daisy's triumph at the Oscars still stings for Spike and Danny. And, the article's author takes a swipe at s,l&v. I can only shrug about that. (The Oscars first pissed me off when they blessed Ghandi over E.T. And, then the fakakta decision to award the piece-of-shit-directed-by-THAT-MAN over Goodfellas?) The Academy rarely gets it right. Slumdog? Bitch, please.
Another reason I find this film a classic is that it delivers one of the best hell-raising anthems ever: "Fight the Power" by Public Enemy. I can't imagine a day when the dissonant clanging that propels the beat won't get my ass up and moving. And, Public Enemy has one of the best vocalists of the Eighties. Chuck D. is unique to my ears because he delivers his rhymes in a 'singerly' manner. With Terminator X's bombastic cacophony literally blowing up behind him, Chuck D.'s voice has to be strong and disciplined, but that iron is wrapped in throaty velvet. It's like Billy Eckstine woke up enraged one night, sheared off his conk, and joined the revolution. Plus, I'm going to love any song that drops black history, says f.u. to Bobby McFerrin, and calls people to rise up in one breath, but doesn't let them forget how to party in the next:
"In his review in the June 26, 1989, issue of New York magazine, David Denby said that 'the end of this movie is a shambles, and if some audiences go wild, [Lee's] partly responsible.' Jack Kroll in Newsweek called the film 'dynamite under every seat.' "
And, these were the film critics! I don't think anyone is surprised when the money men and people with green-light power seem like narrow-minded fuckos who have jumped up their own asses. In theory (or am I naive pickaninny who's fresh off massa's plantation?), critics should be displaying thoughtful consideration in their writing while informing by using context and a broader knowledge of the world and film history. I don't know that actually ever existed in reality. At best, an honest opinion was delivered succinctly and distinctions were made between fine art and pure enjoyment. Now, Ben Lyons is inflicted on the public and fanboys rule the blogs. Feh. But, I digress. The topic is the miracle that was the release of Do The Right Thing 20 years ago.
To celebrate the anniversary, Universal Pictures is releasing a two-disc DVD that includes new commentary by Spike Lee, more documentary footage, and an oral history of the film's making as remembered by crew and cast. I'm a slut for oral histories, so this new edition of the DVD immediately makes my birthday wish list. The list of people speaking about the film is impressive, but the three standouts for me are Spike Lee, Rosie Perez, and Ernest Dickerson.
I like that Lee always has something to say and he's one of the last directors who can successfully translate that opinion into a provocative visual statement. Lee always brings it visually, but I find that his dialogue wins or loses depending on the actors delivering it. (I just realized that Annabella Sciorra annoys me no matter what she does.) The person who delivers Lee best is Lee himself...Denzel is damn close, but, Spike is king of his own material. I will admit that sometimes Lee has the ability to talk out of his ass, but sometimes a great improviser is going to FAIL. But, it's worth it to show up and keep an open mind.
Rosie Perez has one of the best voices ever. I would consider it an honor to be cussed out by this woman. It's not a surprise that people want to hear her say "Mookie" over and over. She should make a ringtone of her raggin' him, sell it on iTunes and count the sheckles as they drop into her bank account. I don't think it's her accent that mesmerizes me. It's the combination of tone, breath, how she hits certain beats--just like a great horn player, by the way. And, that's just the aural effect. Pair that with her eyes and the formidable body language she uses as a former dancer. She could have been born in Minsk and she'd still bitchslap people with that voice and stance.
I'm also a slut for the deft use of saturated color and bringing weight to light. This film perfectly transmits the simplicity and languor of summer, while simultaneously conveying the body-blocking oppression of city heat. So, my back will straighten and my eyes will widen when Mr. Ernest Dickerson, the cinematographer, comes onto screen. I only have loonie lurve for what this man accomplished with this film (and Mo' Better Blues and Malcolm X). The same feeling clouds my mind when I remember my first Crayola 64 box from the first grade.
As well as the three above, there are pithy insights provided by Danny Aiello, John Turturro, Martin Lawrence, Giancarlo Esposito, Chuck D (!), and more. To place the film in context, it busted loose around the time of Driving Miss Daisy and sex, lies and videotape. It's mentioned that Daisy's triumph at the Oscars still stings for Spike and Danny. And, the article's author takes a swipe at s,l&v. I can only shrug about that. (The Oscars first pissed me off when they blessed Ghandi over E.T. And, then the fakakta decision to award the piece-of-shit-directed-by-THAT-MAN over Goodfellas?) The Academy rarely gets it right. Slumdog? Bitch, please.
Another reason I find this film a classic is that it delivers one of the best hell-raising anthems ever: "Fight the Power" by Public Enemy. I can't imagine a day when the dissonant clanging that propels the beat won't get my ass up and moving. And, Public Enemy has one of the best vocalists of the Eighties. Chuck D. is unique to my ears because he delivers his rhymes in a 'singerly' manner. With Terminator X's bombastic cacophony literally blowing up behind him, Chuck D.'s voice has to be strong and disciplined, but that iron is wrapped in throaty velvet. It's like Billy Eckstine woke up enraged one night, sheared off his conk, and joined the revolution. Plus, I'm going to love any song that drops black history, says f.u. to Bobby McFerrin, and calls people to rise up in one breath, but doesn't let them forget how to party in the next:
Cause I'm black and I'm proud
I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped
Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check
Don't worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) lets get this party started right
Right on, c'mon
What we got to say
Power to the people no delay
To make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be
And, of course, the film features Rosie Perez jerking, jabbing and popping in the opening while this song rolls. Damn! It's far more sexier than anything Beyonce attempts in her recent videos (if Lah-Dee-Dah Knowles jerks much harder, I swear a titty is going to fly off).
Finally, the film features Robin Harris as Sweet Dick Willie. Those three men sitting around a cooler and shooting the shit always reminds me of my childhood home. I didn't grow up in a city, so people didn't park themselves right out on the corner in lawn chairs. Our old-time gents loitered in the town's pool hall or on other people's porches. But, Willie, in particular, reminds me of my grandmother because she always used to say: "Ain't no dick on this Earth THAT SWEET or THAT LONG, make me put up w' that bullshit." (My love of baking cookies and knitting did not come from her. Nope. From her, I get my withering evil eye and an ability to shake a tailfeather.) So, just hearing the moniker "Sweet Dick Willie" gets me sentimental and in the mood for whiskey.
Eventually, I'm going to put on Harris' comedy album, Bé-Bé's Kids, and fall out laughing from "Gonna Change/Spare Change" and "Piccolo Player." "Piccolo Player" is my favorite part because Harris' delivery is almost a song, but my father's belly laughs come rolling out for "Gonna Change/Spare Change." My father loves that line, "I'm gonna do the...RIGHT thang!" It is a response to the question of how success is going to affect the comic. Harris puts a walloping emphasis on "right" and manages to do two things. One: he nods to the film that helped propel him to that success. Two: he asserts his self-interest as the number one priority and subverts the film's internal debate. As my family interprets that line, it's about preserving his black ass. He's not going to end up like Radio Raheem in the film, which brings me back to the commentary included in this anniversary DVD.
There are so many issues in this film that could inspire dialogue, debate, argument and shooting the shit. Even how the questions are framed leads to substantial discussion. "Should Sal hang pictures of black heroes in the pizza shop?" is very different from "Why doesn't Sal hang pictures of black heroes in the pizza shop?" When I first saw the film, my reaction was to focus on the actions of the police. The death of Raheem generated within me feelings of sorrow, helplessness and bitter resignation. I don't remember questioning the mob losing their shit and tearing stuff apart until after leaving the theater and talking with others. Spike Lee sums it ruthlessly in the commentary: "It disturbed me how some critics would talk about the loss of property -- which is really saying white-owned property -- but not the loss of life."
The film is 20 years older. I'm twenty years older. And, so is America. How will this film stand against recent history? I'm not just referring to Obama (Didn't the Obamas see this on their first date?). Rodney King, O.J. Simpson, NYPD, Hurricane Katrina and the Jena Six will be in the back of my mind, too. What will be my response now? Do The Right Thing was loaded with provocation in 1989. Is it still brimming with a power and vitality that scared the bejeezus out of some people? I predict that the film is still a hot, sweaty mess refusing to be invisible or voiceless.
No comments:
Post a Comment