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| Scene from BlacKkKlansman |
By the age of 61, most storied filmmakers have done their best work and are in the "safe" era of their careers. Not Spike Lee. While his career has never been nothing short of abrasive and confrontational, his latest BlacKkKlansman is a film that comes like a foot knocking down a door. Much like the general discourse, he's mad at the problematic race relations of the modern era and wants to have a blunt discussion of why we should be angrier about it. Over the course of his film, he has created one of the most delightful, uncomfortable, prophetic, energetic, scary films of his career. Even from its title, which alludes to the Ku Klux Klan characters at the center of the story, it doesn't come subtle. But on the bright side, Lee is one of the few old hats that are angry with a purpose, and it's so nice to have a film this immediate to prove the value of art to change discourse, provided everyone stops and listens.
One of the smartest moves that Lee does in the film is his ability to frame the 1970's Klan organization around two of the most problematic, romantic films of the Confederate South: The Birth of a Nation (1915) and Gone With the Wind. Both have been staples of film for almost a century, but here they're affronts to an entire race. Upon seeing the footage of Scarlett O'Hara walking the battlegrounds underneath a Confederate Flag, it's symbolic of a bigger death. It's the rise of racism in a defamed group, threatening to kill anyone not associated with "White America." This is exactly why the punchline of BlacKkKlansman isn't so much that the Klan is an embarassing group of individuals, but that they were all taken down by a black cop named Ron Stallworth (John David Washington), who with the help of coworker Flip (Adam Driver) learns their secrets and begins to deconstruct their bigotry.
It would be one thing if Lee's film was needless fantasy, showing a black man killing a racist jerk. However, Lee has made himself public - such as in relation to his thoughts on Django Unchained's rewritten history - and this isn't going to take things lightly. This did happen and it was awful. It's here that the excess begins to get laid on thick, reflecting Lee's desire to comment on the race relations in every form, such as Ron's relationship with black student union Patrice (Laura Harrier) who takes issues with the "pigs." This is a fraught 70's that plays with police procedural and blaxploitation aesthetics while finding the humor and terror in both genres. There's humor in seeing Ron perform karate in his office during every break in the case, but it's confronted by the lingering dread of being neglected either by the Klan for his race, or by Patrice for selling out to the white man.
It should be noted that the film never gets too comfortable for long. Even Flip, who is secretly Jewish, begins to doubt himself as he openly mocks people with Antisemitic language. The film uses every word, and it doesn't end when it feels like too much. It keeps going to the point that the audience wants to strangle Klan Grand Wizard David Duke (Topher Grace) along with Ron. That's the power of Lee, whose excesses have been hit and miss in the pass. Here, they're all guided to reflect a monotony that blacks have faced in America for decades, even centuries because white people simply romanticize films like Gone With the Wind. Even David Duke admits that he can tolerate blacks, but refers to his personal assistant/slave as "My own Hattie McDaniel." These films inform the characters, and Lee isn't subtle about The Birth of the Nation's ability to destroy civil discourse in one of his most jarring yet effective scenes in the entire film.
More than anything, this film works because it feels angry. Regardless of the things that don't work, Lee clearly has captured an emotion that he has lived with and has reflected in almost all of his work. The idea of a superior race (perfectly counter-argued by the slovenly, always drunken brilliance of Paul Walter Hauser) goes from being a joke to a contrivance by the end, and makes it tough to argue for racism. Lee has a power that it manages to overshadow its sometimes lack of depth, finding the joy in seeing how blacks and whites get along on every social level. Maybe it's not the most profound take on the matters, but its directness makes it one of the most raw nerve experiences out there. It wants to make everyone uncomfortable, and it makes it an even bigger surprise that it got a wide release. If nothing else, it reflects a desire to start a conversation.
It's not a wild prediction to suggest that racism is still a major problem in the United States. Lee knows that better than most filmmakers who mince words in more commercial packages. It's why his vibrancy makes the message louder and clearer. What hurts more than anything in the endless epithets is that this is the world that exists and continues to exist. If it's not addressed in our media, how can it ever be expected to change. What's to learn from The Birth of a Nation if it's just considered a groundbreaking work of art? Lee is striving for a deeper, more in depth conversation that breaks free of things like the Klan taking power again. It's up to the audience to listen and make a difference. Whether or not you agree with his approach, he does it so well that it's bound to leave you a little bit shattered.
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