Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Chi-raq

Spike Lee, whose Do the Right Thing and Malcolm X are among the best films of the past quarter century, and are certainly among the best that have ever dealt with racial issues, has returned to societal themes in his most interesting movie in twenty years. Centering on the gun violence epidemic in Chicago, Chi-raq contains a message we desperately need. If it isn't self-evident, the title is a juxtaposition of Chicago with Iraq; essentially, Lee is arguing what many have for years: that perhaps the U.S. should focus on its own violence problems before making new ones overseas. The film is not perfect, but its frankness is admirable.

At first, like probably most viewers, I was perplexed by the particular vernacular of the characters. As the plot unfolded, however, it suddenly dawned on me: Lee has adapted Lysistrata, the ancient Greek comedy about Athenian women withholding sex from their partners in an attempt to bring peace, for his anti-gun violence story, and what a genius move it was on his part. In case there is any doubt of the connection to the ancient Greek play, Lee naming the protagonist after the character should put any question to rest. (I was in a production of Lystrata in university, so this only further fanned my appreciation.) More evidence of the use of archaic plot devises is having an actor provide the voice of a chorus, or an on-screen narrator. In this role, Lee has cast his frequent collaborator Samuel L. Jackson in a role named Dolomedes. I could not find anything to verify that this was a character in ancient Greece. However, I found that this name comes from the Greek "dolomed," or wily. Jackson must have known this, for his performance is among the most sharp-witted of all the characters here.

In other roles, Lee has put together perhaps the best cast of 2015, with Nick Cannon, Angela Bassett, Jennifer Hudson, Wesley Snipes, and John Cusack among the film's members. But the best of them is Teyonah Parris in the lead role as Lystrata, who early in the film decides that enough is enough. Her boyfriend, a rapper played by Cannon who also takes Chi-raq as his nickname, has nearly been assassinated by a rival gang. Around the same time, she witnesses a mother (Hudson) mourn the death of her young child who was killed in the streets during a gunfight, and eventually leads a group of women (in both rival gangs) to join together and abstain from intercourse to force their male lovers to the peace table. Some of the actors aren't as interesting to watch as the others. It seems pretty clear that Cusack is meant to be Father Michael Pfleger, the Chicago Catholic priest and activist. Pfleger's sermons are enormously over the top (or "passionate," his supporters might say), so it's understandable why Cusack and Lee would take this route, but it seems distracting and out of place.    
It's obvious why Lee has chosen this topic for these times. We are an outlier nation with a serious gun problem. In recent times, there have been more than 30,000 gun deaths each year. Since 1968, more Americans have died from gun violence than from all the American wars combined, and black Americans are twice as likely to die from gun violence than white Americans. Year after year, our representatives in Washington do nothing. They either have a fetish for this kind of thing, or they are completely beholden to their masters at the NRA (or both). Either way, our country is seriously, pathetically messed up, with guns being its primary disease. But while this is a necessary film for these troubling times, it will not do much to change anything. If young children being massacred within the span of a few minutes at their elementary school in addition to the tens of thousands of Americans who have died each year from gun violence has not sparked a reaction among this country to really tackle this crisis, then a Spike Lee Joint won't either. Maybe preventing our male-dominated government from having sex will.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

The Trouble With Harry

There is a man dead, lying in the grass peacefully. A variety of characters all seem quite morbidly calm about the whole thing as they pass him by. The first to see him, an older retired navy captain named Albert Wiles (Edmund Gwenn, best known by today's audiences for his Academy Award-winning role as Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street), is constantly red-faced and by far the most fun to watch. He's on a hunting trip and believes he killed the man, who we come to know is named Harry, Harry Worp. He doesn't seem to be all that concerned. Even Harry's ex-wife, played by Shirley MacLaine in her debut movie, shows up and finds the whole thing humorously ordinary, telling her young boy that they will be lucky if Mr. Harry doesn't wake up from his deep sleep.

Wiles decides it's time to start flirting with a local lady named Ivy Gravely (Mildred Natwick) over blueberry muffins and elderberry wine; there surely must be something satirical about this situation. There's rarely been an eclectic array of such peculiar characters juxtaposed with beautiful autumn Vista Vision colors in a movie directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Fall trees, a one-room market, colorful paintings, and a dead man; most of the time, we just see his feet. It's a fairly far-fetched start.

There's a lot of 1950s overacting in the film that needs to be seen through the lens of hindsight, but most of the leads do a fine enough job. Even the young kid (played by Jerry Mathers, immortal to American audiences for the television show Leave It to Beaver) provides some proficient acting. Of all Hitchcock's female leads, MacLaine would go on to be the most successful; she's a living legend. As previously mentioned, Gwenn is the most interesting to watch and is certainly given the best dialogue. Another man shows up and steals Harry's shoes. Another decides to stop and do a painting of Harry. "Next thing you know," Wiles complains to himself, "they'll be televising the whole thing."

Despite all the autumn leaves and sweet lemonade, this New England town seems to exist in a world far darker than anything in Psycho or Rebecca. But soon the characters at least care about what kind of burial and funeral Harry is to have--a spot facing West, perhaps, so he can watch the sunset. They won't report his death to the authorities, but they'll make sure he has pretty views in the afterlife. In the meantime, however, the characters become convinced that they are not convinced how how he actually died, and the whole thing becomes sort of like a whodunnit Clue-esque caper story, a series of unfortunate, anomalous events.

The Trouble With Harry is not the most intriguing or exciting film Alfred Hitchcock directed, and it's filled with moments where some of the characters make decisions so outrageously stupid that they're hard to buy. It certainly has its moments though. Bernard Hermann's theme is just as interesting, though not as memorable, as his other scores for Hitchcock, though it was their first collaboration. There's a door that periodically opens in a rather eerie manner. If Ernst Lubitsch could do more with a closed door than other directors could with an open zipper, as Billy Wilder said, then perhaps Hitchcock could do more to inspire thrills with the opening of a door than lesser directors could with loud bumps in the night.