https://55nvidlist.blogspot.com/2019/08/fri-30-aug-blackkklansman-2018.html

BlacKkKlansman is a 2018 American true crime blaxploitation film directed by Spike Lee and written by Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, and Lee. The film is based on the 2014 memoir Black Klansman by Ron Stallworth. The film stars John David Washington as Stallworth, along with Adam Driver, Laura Harrier, and Topher Grace. Set in the early-1970s Colorado Springs, the plot follows the first African-American detective in the city's police department as he sets out to infiltrate and expose the local Ku Klux Klan chapter.
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Here's a thoughtful review...
https://www.vox.com/culture/2018/5/15/17355432/blackkklansman-review-spike-lee-david-duke-charlottesville
Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman draws a ham-fisted line from white supremacy’s past to its present
Alissa Wilkinson@alissamariealissa@vox.com
Midway through Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman,
mostly set in the 1970s, a white cop explains to the Colorado Springs
Police Department’s only black cop that the way to push racist
ideologies to the average American who doesn’t consider himself racist
is to slip it in beneath other issues, like immigration and crime and
affirmative action and tax reform.
Then someday, he continues, Americans will just elect someone who embodies those ideals.
The black cop — Ron Stallworth (John David Washington),
our hero — expresses astonishment at the idea that Americans would ever
do such a thing. His colleague shakes his head in warning. No, it will
happen, he says. Just you wait.
At the film’s world premiere in Cannes, this scene got big laughs — which is obviously the point, since it’s now 2018 and a man beloved by out-and-out racists,
including outspoken white supremacist and former Ku Klux Klan grand
wizard David Duke, was elected on a platform that embodies just those
ideas. The past is never dead. It isn’t even past.
But if BlacKkKlansman’s historical memory of
American racism is right on the money — it’s even based on a true story!
— its way of drawing out those parallels is far less on target.
BlacKkKlansman isn’t wrong about the evils of
white supremacy. But it’s pretty sure you, out in the audience, aren’t
going to get it unless it spells out the message in blinking neon
lights. And even then, the film seems to fear you might miss the point.
BlacKkKlansman draws a strong — really strong — line between past and present
Arguably, nobody who doesn’t already agree that white supremacy is bad is going to see BlacKkKlansman.
In fact, if there’s anything we’ve learned over the past few years,
it’s that most white Americans will howl if you suggest that they
subscribe, in any way at all, to racist ideas, or participate
uncritically in systems in which white people benefit. (Plenty also
embrace white supremacy openly, as it turns out, but they’re definitely not going to see this movie.)
The movie seems to want to shake up the audience, to open
their eyes to the dangers that the KKK specifically and white supremacy
more broadly pose to not just black Americans but Jewish Americans and
others who oppose the “white Christian” agenda, as the film’s white
supremacists put it.
BlacKkKlansman aims to accomplish this not only
through its story, but with two bookends. The first is a quick prologue
set some time in the 1950s, with Alec Baldwin as a man recording a
blatantly racist PSA about the insidious “spread of integration and
miscegenation” propagated by the “Jewish puppets on the Supreme Court,”
except he keeps stumbling over his words and barking at an unseen woman
helping him film.
The second is a series of images from the white
nationalist march on Charlottesville, Virginia, on August 11, 2017, and
the aftermath, including President Donald Trump’s infamous “on both sides” remarks and footage of the car that plowed into a crowd of counter-demonstrators, killing Heather Heyer.
At a press conference following the film’s Cannes
premiere, Lee said that Charlottesville happened after the film was
finished, but he made the decision to append the footage (and asked
Heyer’s mother for permission to use her daughter’s image), thereby
drawing even clearer parallels between the story told in the film’s
center section and events today. White supremacy and the KKK haven’t
gone away. They’re right there in front of us, on the news.
That’s all correct and virtually indisputable. It’s what happens in the film’s main stretch that renders it ineffective.
BlacKkKlansman is about an undercover sting operation that makes fools of the KKK
The bulk of BlacKkKlansman is Stallworth’s story, based on his book Black Klansman.
Stallworth is the first black cop in the CSPD and at first is subjected
to the indignities of working in the Records Room and taking the casual
racial insults of an obviously terrible colleague.
Eventually he talks his boss into letting him go
undercover, and he ends up at a meeting of the Colorado College Black
Students Union, at which former Black Panther leader Stokely Carmichael (Corey Hawkins),
now going by the name Kwame Ture, is speaking. He wears a wire so his
fellow officers can listen in and figure out if Ture is inciting
violence. He also meets the BSU president, Patrice (Laura Harrier),
and while trying to work her as a source, he starts to fall for her,
even as she and her friends talk angrily about the injustices they face
at the hands of cops.
The evening is successful enough that Stallworth is
transferred to the intelligence unit, where he spins up an undercover
investigation into the local KKK chapter, led by the charismatic Walter
Breachway (Ryan Eggold).
The chapter is mostly made up of faintly (and not-so-faintly) ignorant
rednecks who prattle on about their own superiority and sense of
grievance that their pure white ways of life are being distorted and
corrupted by the Jews and the blacks. (They use a different word.)
Stallworth is a skilled code switcher, and on the phone
he’s able to convince Breachway that he’s a white American who hates
black people and wants to join the KKK. But going undercover at an
actual meeting of the Klan (or “the Organization,” as they call it) is
obviously impossible. So he enlists his fellow cop Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver) to be his white double and actually go meet with Breachway and his cronies.
Zimmerman is Jewish — a group the KKK hates as much as
black people — but he’s been “passing” for white all his life, and he
pulls it off for the sting as well. As the pair find their way inside
the organization, they discover a violent plot against members of the
BSU.
But in a much weirder twist, Stallworth also strikes up a phone acquaintance with David Duke himself (played, brilliantly, by Topher Grace),
with whom he chats on the regular about white supremacy and the wrongs
incurred on white Americans. Duke is coming to Colorado Springs.
Hijinks, as you might imagine, ensue.
BlackKklansman makes its point but lets its audience off the hook too easily
Frankly, as a white woman, I simply don’t know how this
film will play to black audiences. It presents a conflict between two
main points of view regarding black characters — that of a black man
who’s chosen to be a cop and a black woman who can’t imagine that choice
— but the politics there are complex and intense, and they’re left
ultimately unresolved.
But I watched the film in a predominantly liberal-leaning
white audience at its Cannes premiere, a demographic that tends to love
Lee’s work. And by my lights, the biggest problem with BlacKkKlansman
lies in its white characters and their effect on its white audience
members. That’s not necessarily because they’re caricatures; even casual
watchers of the news or readers of the internet in the past two years
(such as myself) have discovered that behaviors we might have considered
“unrealistic” onscreen in the past — say, a group of white young men
marching with torches and shouting, “Jews will not replace us” — aren’t fiction at all.
But if the movie aims to make complacent white people
feel uncomfortable about their role in the current American turmoil, it
fails spectacularly. The KKK members are, to a one, obviously terrible
people, but they’re also just really pathetic. They say “circumstanced”
when they mean “circumcised.” They tell extremely dumb jokes. They
harbor delusions of grandeur that are in painfully comical contrast to
their reality. They’re misogynistic and pompous and stupid.
So naturally, nobody in the audience is going to identify
with these men, or the white women around them who are grateful for
having been given a meaning and purpose in life. Nor will they identify
with the racist white cop, the “bad cop,” as Flip calls him, who
eventually reaps what he sows.
The other group of white people in the film are the rest
of the police, who are pretty much fundamentally good guys. When
Stallworth joins the force, most of them are still willing to put up
with racist attitudes or not take the KKK’s threat too seriously.
They’re uncritical about this, but over the course of the film, they
become a bit more willing to at least eradicate the racism in their own
ranks.
BlackKklansman gives its white audience an out:
Most any white audience member is going to find their avatar in these
folks, the good cops who toss the bad apple. But now it’s 2018, and we
all consider ourselves very woke about race. Like the good cops in the
movie, we’re well-intentioned but a little more enlightened! And that’s
only natural given the ensuing decades, right?
Every laugh in the movie is at the expense of the dumb
racist yokels and their dumb racist yokel ideas; the film’s biggest
laugh scene involves David Duke, the biggest dumb racist yokel of them
all, getting the wind knocked out of him. That laugh feels uncomfortably
self-congratulatory. Aren’t we glad we’re not like them?
Yet the point of BlacKkKlansman seems to be that
laughing at the KKK, dismissing them as an irrelevant group of backward
morons, is what got us Donald Trump. That’s likely the idea behind
appending the Charlottesville footage to the end of the film (something,
again, that wasn’t in the original plan for the film), which includes
Duke’s vocal praise of Trump.
You could argue that the tag is a rebuke to the laughter,
some kind of meta-commentary on how we still don’t get it. But the
film’s characterization of the KKK members is so broad and so obvious
that it never wanted us to take them seriously in the first place.
That’s all underlined by the film’s ham-fisted attempts
to make us see that this story from the 1970s is really about America in
2018; the KKK members stop just short of donning red MAGA hats (they
have white hoods instead). A room full of KKK members shout, “America
first! America first!” There’s the scene where the white cop explains to
Stallworth that someone will someday be in the White House who hides
his racism beneath policy. And when Duke declared that “it’s time for
America to show its greatness again,” the (mostly European) audience
guffawed knowingly.
Reality in 2018 can be ham-fisted, to be sure; the
writers of history seem to have jumped the shark. But this comes across
less as a rattling recognition of the harmony between past and present
and more as a very dark inside joke that we’re all meant to get. Ha, ha!
Racists sounded the same back then as they do now! Something you’ve
never noticed before!
BlacKkKlansman participates in the history-making potential of cinema while criticizing it
A much more interesting idea is floating around in BlacKkKlansman, one that, if pursued, might have made for a much more effective and unnerving film.
At one point, Patrice and Stallworth argue about
blaxploitation and representations of black people in films and how
those help or hurt the position of black Americans. Images from those
films appear onscreen, not just as illustrations, but to remind the
audience of characterizations from these very movies — which at times
Lee leans into, tracing a line between black cinema from the 1970s to
his own representation of black people in this film.
Later in the film, there’s a long discourse from Harry
Belafonte, speaking to the BSU about the 1916 Waco lynching of Jesse
Washington, about how the release of D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation shaped
national attitudes about black people, revived the KKK, and led to
horrible mutilations and deaths. Woodrow Wilson even played the film at
the White House, he reminds the BSU students, and called it “history
written with lightning.”
The scene is intercut with Duke and the KKK chapter watching The Birth of a Nation,
hooting and fist-pumping like they’re at a sporting event cheering on
their heroes, which, in fact, they are. But it’s Wilson’s quotation that
hangs in the air.
Cinema has powerfully shaped American notions about race,
creating and fostering stereotypes that bleed off the screen and into
policymaking, onto the campaign stage, and into the voting booth. The
film’s take on the influence of The Birth of a Nation is not exaggerated. Coupled with the discussion of blaxploitation films and black heroes, it’s powerful.
Because this is all happening on a movie screen, there was a great opportunity for BlacKkKlansman
to unsettle those in its audience who are cinephiles, as well as more
casual moviegoers — the film is more accessible than many of Lee’s more
recent offerings — by reminding them that it’s not just obviously racist
movies with obviously racist aims that are at fault. There’s a host of
reasons that images are powerful, but when we participate in them
uncritically, they can cause real damage to real lives. A film that
traffics in depiction of stereotypes contains the rich possibility of
exploring that with its audience, showing how they, too, are culpable.
Instead, the film settles for taking pot shots at Trump, whom everyone seeing the movie likely already
finds odious and dangerous, and at the KKK, which you’d have to be
totally oblivious to disregard in 2018. It’s not wrong. It’s just so
obvious that it leaves room for a ponderously predictable net effect. BlacKkKlansman reinforces what we’re already angry about. And it makes us feel glad that we, at least, see through the pathetic lies.
BlacKkKlansman premiered at the Cannes Film Festival
in May and opens in the US on August 10, one year after the white
supremacist march in Charlottesville.
