2020 Top Ten List #10 Da 5 Bloods

Director Spike Lee

Milton L. Olive III, the war’s first black Medal of Honor recipient

James Anderson Jr. the first black Marine to be awarded the Medal of Honor

DA 5 BLOODS          B+                  

USA  (156 mi)  2020  d: Spike Lee

Spike Lee has forever had his finger on the pulse of the nation, firing off warning shots to remind us that our history is fraught with peril, often using voices of the voiceless to provide direction, like Larry Fishburne’s college educated and socially conscious Dap in SCHOOL DAZE (1988) being reminded by a group of unemployed blacks led by Samuel L. Jackson that in the eyes of white society he’s “always going to be a nigger,” or Samuel L. Jackson’s DJ, Mister Señor Love Daddy urging us on the radio to “Wake up!” in Do the Right Thing (1989), or Denzel Washington in MALCOLM X (1992) reminding his black brethren that they’ve been “Bamboozled!  Led astray!  Run amok!”  His previous film, Blackkklansman (2018), was released shortly after the deadly riots occurring at the torch-wielding white supremacist and neo-Nazi march through the center of downtown Charlottesville, Virginia in their organized Unite the Right rally, a sign of resurfaced racism and white nationalism under President Trump, while this film comes on the heels of the George Floyd murder at the hands of the police, spawning the most explosive civil rights protests since 1968.  Shooting in ‘Scope but changing aspect ratios for newsreel footage or flashbacks, Lee sets the tone right at the opening with a superb historical montage, easily the best thing in the film, set to the 1971 music of Marvin Gaye from his socially conscious concept album What’s Going On, reminding viewers that the 60’s was a battle on two fronts, “the war at home and the war abroad.”  Newsreel footage from 1963 to 1975 reveals a steady build-up of social protest demanding change, starting with footage of Muhammad Ali, a devout Muslim, refusing to serve in the Vietnam War, claiming the Vietcong “never lynched me, they never put their dogs on me, they never robbed me of my nationality,” convicted of draft evasion, stripped of his title and suspended from boxing until the Supreme Court overturned that decision four years later, moving to the voice of Malcolm X who states eloquently, “When you take twenty million black people and make them fight all your wars and pick all your cotton and you don’t give them any real recompense, sooner or later their allegiance towards you is going to wear thin,” with Stokely Carmichael (now Kwame Ture) acknowledging, “America has declared war on black people.”  This sets the stage for a rise of Black Power within the Civil Rights movement, with foreshadowing footage of Angela Davis and Black Panther Party co-founder Bobby Seale reminding us of the promise of freedom made to blacks serving in the Civil War and WWII, only to have that promise broken when the war supposedly ended.  As for non-violent protesters, Lee reminds us that the Ohio National Guard opened fire on white students protesting the war during the Kent State shootings of 1970, killing four and wounding 9 others, while less than two weeks later, two black students participating in an on-campus protest were shot dead by police in the Jackson State killings, where no one was held accountable afterwards, with no arrests, yet these murders stirred anger across the nation, triggering an immediate and massive outrage, including 100,000 protesters descending upon the nation’s capital in Washington, D.C., leading to the student strike of 1970 when more than 4 million students on campuses around the country participated in organized walk-outs at hundreds of universities, colleges and high schools, the largest such strike in the history of the United States.  These events from half a century ago mirror the outpouring of rage filling the streets today with protests challenging the entire history of racist police violence and the long-standing nationwide policies that support it, as 99 percent of killings by police officers since 2013 have resulted in no convictions, where the struggle for racial justice has again become headline news.  

If only the rest of the film was as incisive as the opening, which may be studied in film studies classes by future generations, instead becoming a delirious retelling of John Huston’s THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE (1948) mixed into the war film genre, colonial misadventures that are inextricably linked, with a group of former 1st Infantry Division Viet Nam soldiers returning the site of their wartime experiences to complete some unfinished business, retrieving the body of one who was lost, finally bringing him home, with a few other issues playing out as well, mixing the present with flashbacks of the past, including infamous atrocity footage, as these men, now in their senior years, relive their pasts, still haunted and affected by the war, with Lee revealing the severity of PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) among black soldiers who were largely sent to the front lines.  Each curiously named after the Motown group The Temptations (Eddie Kendricks, Otis Williams, Melvin Franklin, Paul Williams, and David Ruffin, while the name of their writer/producer was Norman Whitfield), the four survivors meet in the hotel lobby in Ho Chi Minh City, including Paul (Delroy Lindo), Otis (Clarke Peters), Eddie (Norm Lewis), and Melvin (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), with Paul’s son David, Jonathan Majors from The Last Black Man in San Francisco (2019), surprising him at the hotel, worried that he needs someone looking after him as he hasn’t been himself.  Even more baffling, they visit a nightclub called “Apocalypse Now,” decorated with posters of the film (an actual place according to Lee), all of which feels extremely surreal.  While their stated goal is to officially retrieve the remains of a fallen comrade, their former squad leader Stormin’ Norman (Chadwick Boseman), whose profile enlarges during the flashbacks, as he was a revered figure, literally the conscience of the group, becoming the moral centerpiece of the film, educating them on ideas that matter, suggesting “War is about money.  Money is about war,” with blacks exploited on both fronts, “Every time I walk out my front door, I see cops patrolling my neighborhood like it’s some kind of police state.  I can feel just how much I ain’t worth,” insisting they remain in solidarity as a group, a fighting team that always has each other’s backs, suggesting in union there is strength.  Lee takes issue with prior war films and their whitewashing of history, as they largely exclude the presence of black soldiers, specifically films like John Wayne in THE GREEN BERETS (1968), the only Viet Nam war film made “during” the war, Sylvester Stallone in his RAMBO franchise (five films from 1982 to 2019), and Chuck Norris in MISSING IN ACTION (1984), generating a prequel and a sequel, all hugely popular films, also publicly taking issue with Clint Eastwood’s recent foray into the genre, FLAGS FROM OUR FATHERS and LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA (2006).  None of the Hollywood films feature the grueling combat experience from the perspective of the black men sent over to fight, openly mocking these films in a heated discussion about trying to “win the war” back home by literally changing the outcome, Lee is bringing to light just how “white” these movies were, telling a mythic feelgood story of victory, while omitting the fact that 32% of the combat troops fighting on the front lines were black, with Melvin acknowledging, “They put our poor blackasses on the front line, killing us off like flies,” mowed down with impunity, making the ultimate sacrifice, but receiving no recognition in Hollywood.  Lee pays tribute to Milton L. Olive III, an 18-year-old soldier who died in combat and the first black soldier awarded a Medal of Honor for his service in Vietnam, jumping on a grenade to save the lives of others in his unit (who were present during the posthumous award ceremony), and James Anderson Jr. the first black Marine to be awarded the Medal of Honor, both making the identical sacrifice.  Rather humorously, Lee starts their journey down the river with the surreal, over-the-top musical reference from Coppola’s APOCALYPSE NOW (1979), Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” The Ride of the Valkyries in Apocalypse Now (1979) – YouTube (4:50).  Rather interestingly, what starts out as a seemingly relaxing boat ride grows more intensely out of control the farther they get down the river, growing apoplectic in short order from a persistent food vendor. 

Once they reach the nearest site of newly discovered plane wreckage unearthed from a recent mudslide, they hike into the jungle on their own, carrying with them a lifetime of repressed memories, growing more incendiary as the film develops.  Their solidarity is continually tested and fractured from unfolding events, where Paul in particular seems to be falling apart psychologically, losing his bearings, growing more violently paranoid, where he’s unable to separate his war trauma from reality, perfectly expressed by the mere fact he’s a black man wearing a MAGA hat and supports Trump, revealing his pervasive anger and already damaged state of mind, yet he has the group’s unflagging support, but recurring flashbacks continually take him backwards in time, obsessed with losing Norman, the one he was closest to, blaming himself for his death, even after the passage of time.  The war footage, however, takes us back to an era when the Vietcong were viewed as the bad guys, which resurfaces again here, as they have violent encounters with a modern era Vietnam militia who blame them for killing their parents and uncles.  Let’s remember, from their perspective, this was the American War, as Americans came from afar to kill as many of them as possible with a steady stream of bombs, poisoning the jungle foliage with napalm and Agent Orange, causing a myriad of health problems for future generations, including birth defects, skin diseases, and cancer, not to mention the social stigma attached to the mixed race children left behind who were a constant reminder of that horrible war, clearly ostracized and dehumanized and left to fend for themselves.  Lee attempts to blend together all points of view, even bringing in a few French holdovers from a colonial era preceding the arrival of the Americans, where he attempts to achieve an artistic transcendence, but the results are mixed, as Americans are continually perceived as the heroes in an American film, once again creating negative stereotypes of Vietnamese, who always get devalued and misconstrued.  There is verbal dialogue making reference to former American atrocities, such as the My Lai Massacre where hundreds of unarmed South Vietnamese civilians, including women, children, infants, and babies, were assaulted and murdered by dozens of American soldiers, yet only one of the participants, Second Lt. William Calley, was convicted of a crime, found guilty of murdering 22 civilians, serving only three-and-a-half years, all of them under house arrest (The Ghosts of My Lai | History | Smithsonian Magazine).  It’s a cliché to say war is madness, but that clearly is an example of unmitigated madness.  As the film plays out, it veers into that psychologically deranged territory, with Delroy Lindo providing an especially off-the-edge, excruciatingly agonizing experience, basically reliving the Vietnam War through a tortuous, modern era lens, still plagued by ghosts of the past which are literally eating him alive, speaking directly to the camera at one point, still finding no relief.  An underwritten character in American history, fighting on the front lines, but earning no respect at home.  How do you reaffirm faith in a country that has pledged equality but sent firehoses and dogs on you as a reminder of just exactly where you stand?  While it’s a marked improvement upon MIRACLE AT ST. ANNA (2008), Lee’s previous war film, this spends too much time with guns blazing and literally creating new massacres, which hardly feels acceptable, as audiences may grow numb to this military overkill.  Much better is the intricate crafting of the characters, where the acting is superb, with each having a moment to shine, including the presence of Hanoi Hannah (Veronica Ngô Thanh Vân), a Vietnamese voice on the radio speaking to American troops in English during the war, informing them of the death of Martin Luther King, taunting them by questioning why they’re fighting for a country that discriminates against them at home and exploits them abroad, with the war ultimately pitting poor Vietnamese children against poor American kids who have no reason to dislike each other, or view one another as enemies, suggesting there’s nothing worse than dying for no reason, proclaiming the war immoral.  While the psychological aspect of the film is fertile territory for exploration, and Lee is to be commended as one of the few to reassess history in this way, yet the overlong imagery of soldiers meandering through the jungle bickering among themselves just doesn’t carry the same weight or generate the same enthusiasm as that scintillating opening montage, getting bogged down after a while, where the early intensity level becomes diluted and mainstreamed, yet closes with the eloquence of Martin Luther King quoting Harlem Renaissance poet Langston Hughes (Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes - Poems ...).

The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Longtime friends, actor Jimmie Fails (left) and director Joe Talbot

Hunter's Point

proposed new development plan

construction site of the Chase Center, the new Golden State Warrior's stadium

THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO             B+                  

USA  (121 mi)  2019 d:  Joe Talbot

Remember your truth in the city of façades.

―soapbox preacher (Willie Hen)       

Winner of the Best Directing award for a U.S. Dramatic Film at Sundance, also picking up a Special Jury Award for Creative Collaboration, this is a slow and mysteriously paced morality play that may strike viewers differently, challenging our collective view of humanity, as we bear witness to ordinary yet invisible crimes taking place before our eyes, yet no one is held accountable, as the system is rigged favoring the wealthy.  While no one gets off easy here, some pay a bigger price, and that would be the effect on black families in a city that has split them up and nearly driven them completely out of the city under the banner of urban renewal and neighborhood improvement, yet what they’ve driven away is an entire culture of black people who are completely erased from history, viewed as displaced souls living in a state of limbo, historically marginalized to the poorest neighborhood in the city, a region contaminated by toxic waste, where the government clean-up drives real estate prices through the roof, making it impossible for blacks to continue to afford living in San Francisco.  The film is a long and anguished lament, a requiem for a lost dream, specifically the gentrified Fillmore District and the Bayview-Hunter’s Point neighborhoods, both thriving blue-collar regions predominantly populated by blacks and other racial minorities, where thousands of blacks migrating from the South after WWII sought jobs in the Naval shipyard in Hunter’s Point, but the shipyard closed in 1974, with the Navy convicted for illegal disposal of hazardous substances, leaving decommissioned radioactive ships sitting dry docked in the harbor for years while a notorious toxic-spewing PG & E power plant poisoned the air until shut down in 2006, creating a highly toxic industrialized wasteland that is completely isolated from the rest of San Francisco.  A baby born here has a life expectancy a staggering 14 years less than one born in Russian Hill, plagued by generational poverty, pollution, substandard housing, declining infrastructure, gang violence, limited employment and racial discrimination, yet this region comprises more than a fifth of the city’s black population.  This is the neighborhood that writer James Baldwin once called “the San Francisco America pretends does not exist.”  Yet none of that had the impact of land-hungry developers, where of all the cities in the world this one notoriously becomes the poster child for gentrification, as well-compensated Silicon Valley tech workers surge into the city, driving up prices, completely transforming the city’s character, driving away longtime residents.  With blacks comprising more than 13% of the city’s population in 1970, that number has dropped to less than 6% today.  Between 2010 and 2015, the number of jobs created in San Francisco outnumbered the number of houses built by a ratio of more than eight to one, with the tech industry reigning supreme, where only the wealthiest could afford to live there, where the median monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment is $3700, and 81% of all homes now cost at least $1 million dollars.  Catering to billionaires and tech companies (San Francisco is home to more billionaires per capita than anywhere else on Earth), the city has been averse to addressing pressing issues like homelessness, drug prevention, or much needed affordable housing.  In the contaminated clean-up areas of the shipyard (which remain an eyesore with posted yellow caution/no trespassing signs), new townhome prices range from $775,000 for 740 square feet, and $1.5 million for a two-bedroom, while just north along the bay, nothing stands more symbolically alluring than the brand new basketball arena built for the Golden State Warriors basketball team, a fixture in Oakland for more than 50 years, now moving across the bay into the glitter of this newly transformed neighborhood, yet this massive multi-billion dollar redevelopment project displaces rather than benefits existing neighborhood residents, creating 12,500 new homes, 4 million-plus square feet of office, commercial, and retail space, 300 acres of open parks, trails and fields, but not a single rental unit.           

This is simply the backdrop to the film, which may or may not be known by viewers ahead of time, but the film title says it all, based on the life of Jimmie Fails (playing himself) who follows a journey to reclaim his childhood home in a neighborhood his family can no longer afford, addressing what happened to so many other black families because of redevelopment and the lack of affordable housing.  Given a surreal twist at the opening of the film, hazardous waste is being cleaned up in the harbor with government workers wearing full protective gear while children are running free on the sidewalks, unaware of any potential health risks, where the contrast between the two is a portrait of the haves and the have-nots, as the children along with local residents are offered no protection whatsoever in a neighborhood they once called home.  This just offers a whiff of what comes next.  Conceived by two best friends from childhood, the director Joe Talbot (who is white) co-wrote a film inspired by the real-life story of his friend, Jimmie Fails (who is black), wearing the same red plaid jacket throughout, giving him an almost mythical appearance.  Accompanying him is Monty (Jonathan Majors, who is nothing less than a revelation), always seen with a pencil in his ear, jotting down notes and drawing revelatory pictures in his notebook, where the two have an unshakeable relationship built on trust, sleeping in Monty’s grandfather’s house (Danny Glover), who happens to be blind, watching old movies on TV, which turns out to be the noir thriller D.O.A. (1949) similarly set in San Francisco about a man who eerily narrates his own impending death (which may as well be the theme of the film), with Monty describing the action for his grandfather, who doesn’t miss a beat.  Outside on the curb is a group of heavily tattooed young men, a kind of Greek chorus of Hunter’s Point, offering a touch of authenticity with street commentary on everything that transpires, often getting into heated discussions among themselves, continually trash-talking, where Jimmie or Monty, targeted and derided by the group, will often break them up.  Waiting for a bus that never comes, they decide to hop onto Jimmie’s skateboard, taking a lengthy journey across town, navigating the hilly streets of the city, beautifully expressed in an extended shot from cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra that accentuates the city’s dynamic energy and diversity, much if it seen in slow motion, creating a dreamy effect, yet it’s a fascinating montage of unique aspects of the city, characterized by that individualistic bohemian element that still exists.  They end up paying a visit to an old historical Victorian house in the Fillmore District where Jimmie regularly provides the outdoor upkeep, although the kicker is the current residents get extremely angry at his presence in their home, threatening to call the cops, growing righteously indignant whenever he turns up, though Jimmie seems fixated on taking care of that home, which we learn was built by his grandfather after WWII, but the family couldn’t keep up with the payments, so Jimmie’s been through a circuitous path through the foster care system, living in group homes, spending most of his childhood away from the custody of his parents, never really having a place to call home, with his family splintered and spread all over, so he does yardwork and paint trimming to keep that house looking good, despite the owner’s objections.  Unexpectedly, the home becomes vacant due to an inheritance squabble resulting from a death in the family, where it may remain in housing court litigation for years deciphering the rightful owner.  With this fortuitous, almost fairy tale opening, Jimmie and Monty move in, making themselves squatters (who strangely have rights in California) in an otherwise empty home.

Their initial euphoria is ecstatic, like the answer to their prayers, feeling liberated, as if for the first time.  One of the more humorous scenes involves Jimmie who is touching up a 2nd floor window when an architectural tour group comes by on Segway scooters with Jello Biafra as the tour guide, (former lead singer of the Dead Kennedys), offering his own appraisal that the house is over 100 years old built in the late 19th century.  From his lofty perch upstairs, Jimmie begs to differ and sets the record straight, revealing it was hand-built by his grandfather on a lot he purchased after the war, refusing to purchase a home vacated by Japanese-Americans sent to internment camps, which seems to convince no one, but rather than create a scene, they simply move on to the next home on the tour.  It’s this kind of reality that drives the film, creating an alternate narrative, something that goes against the grain, featuring a couple of offbeat characters that exist in their own world, connected to friends and their dispersed family, but equally disconnected, where no single truth prevails, continually challenging the prevailing order, from the toxic contamination to the urban renewal, with various city officials less than candid on the subject, offering their own spin on the story, with residents continually sold short by those elected to represent them, selling out to the moneyed interests in the end, who have a way of making sure they line their own pockets.  This version of “progress” is at odds with what families experience as they’re living through these issues, with residual effects, like traumatic scars that continue to fester, where the dream never matches the reality.  Among the most potent scenes is the use of nostalgia in the song San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair), Michael Marshall San Francisco YouTube (3:09), an updated variation of the old Scott McKenzie song from the peace and love generation in the summer of love in 1967, San Francisco - Scott McKenzie - YouTube (3:02).  This dream gone wrong is essentially what the film is about, as all that was promised never materialized, instead it was a nightmare to live through, with other people reaping the benefits of “progress” while blacks continually lagged behind, literally driven from their homes one by one, family after family, until the film title is no longer a metaphor but an existing reality.  This is a film honoring those who grew up in this city, who lived through the experiences and survived, still holding their dreams intact against all odds.  What’s uniquely distinctive about the film is that it shows a vulnerable side of black men as friends, which goes completely off the rails of black stereotyping, creating a thoughtful and ponderous film, one that continually questions what’s taking place right before our eyes as we bear witness to an American style ethnic cleansing (mirroring what happened to Japanese-Americans), where moneyed interests are allowed to simply take what they want, irrespective of the consequences.  This film highlights those racial consequences with poetic candor, examining the black soul that’s being displaced, brilliantly expressed in a one-man show staged by Monty, a blistering monologue providing multiple points of view, becoming a haunting exposé of racial injustice that’s done legally and within the limits of the law.  It recalls the provocative Barry Jenkins film Medicine for Melancholy (2008) that followed the amorous musings of a bright and sophisticated black couple wandering the streets of San Francisco in a prolonged first date, wondering what was happening to their city then, adding the eloquent appraisal of Michelle Alexander’s subsequent book The New Jim Crow, 2010, revealing how blacks are fundamentally incarcerated and disenfranchised at levels exceeding the post-Civil War Reconstruction era.  Among those affected are Jamal Trulove, one of the Greek chorus who meets a tragic end in the film, who in real life was arrested in 2010 for the shooting death of his friend and sentenced to 50 years to life in prison, spending six years in maximum security prisons until his conviction was later overturned in 2014 and Trulove was acquitted, discovering the two arresting officers “fabricated evidence and failed to disclose exculpatory material,” resulting in a $13.1 million dollar settlement from the city for wrongful arrest.  Intensely personal stories showing people continually falling through the cracks create the delicate fabric of this film, which is simply not what you’re used to seeing, told in a distinctly different way. 

 

Accompanying links:

One out of every 11,600 people in San Francisco is a billionaire - Vox   Theodore Schleifer, May 9, 2019

How San Francisco broke America's heart - The Washington Post  Karen Heller, May 21, 2019

The Racist Origins of San Francisco's Housing Crisis | The New ...  Lexi Pandell from The New Republic, May 31, 2019