By Ezra Stead
Do the Right Thing, USA, 1989
Malcolm X, USA / Japan, 1992
Bamboozled, USA, 2000
Directed by Spike Lee
For twenty years now, ever since his debut feature She’s Gotta Have It in 1986, Spike Lee (b. 1957) has been one of the most innovative and provocative directors of his time. As expressed numerous times throughout his many films, Lee’s highest goal is to â€œwake upâ€ and uplift all oppressed and deluded people, but he has an understandably primary concern for his own people, the African-Americans who have been abused and misrepresented in the United States ever since before it was even called the United States.
Many critics have accused Lee of the same bigotry his films abhor, citing in particular three of his best films â€“ Do The Right Thing, Malcolm X and Bamboozled â€“ as being counterproductive and causing, rather than alleviating, the tensions between various races, but particularly between blacks and whites. Yet all one has to do is view these films to see Lee’s love of all humanity; each one of these films is an eloquent cry of pain at the inhumanity bred by racism in anyone, of any race.Â
Do The Right Thing (1989) is an often funny and always heartfelt look at bigotry and racial tension. After a red-gelled, highly stylized opening sequence to set the tone of the film, which, according to Lee in his book on the making of the film, is designed to have â€œpeople in the theaters sweating as they watch,â€ the first image is a close-up of Mister Senor Love Daddy (Samuel L. Jackson) saying, â€œWake up!â€ This phrase is common throughout Lee’s films and clearly has a deeper meaning than the literal one attached to Love Daddy’s dialogue.
The character of Mookie (Lee) is, in part, a symbol of one of the primary ways to uplift the Black race; as Mookie says, â€œI got to get paid!â€ This is his driving motivation, an idea explored over ten years later in Bamboozled (2000), which examines what a person (of any race) should or should not be willing to do in order to get paid. In Mookie’s case, he is willing to put up with the racism of Pino (John Turturro) in order to stay gainfully employed. Even Sal (Danny Aiello) is, in effect, the benevolent plantation owner: he is kind to Mookie, Da Mayor (Ossie Davis) and his black customers but, like many slave-time plantation owners, lusts after Jade (Joie Lee) and, ultimately, is not above using racial epithets and even equating the life of a black man (Radio Raheem, played by Bill Nunn) with a piece of property (his business, Sal’s Famous Pizzeria).
On the more revolutionary side of uplifting the race is the gradually developed trinity of protest: Buggin’ Out (Giancarlo Esposito), Radio Raheem and Smiley (Roger Guenveur-Smith). Buggin’ Out is seen as something of a joke in the neighborhood, as evidenced by his rather pointless and ineffectual confrontation with the white yuppie Clifton (John Savage), who scuffs his Air Jordans, as well as by the reactions of various neighborhood people to Buggin’s suggestion of boycotting Sal’s.
Radio Raheem is the one who actually commands respect in the neighborhood; this is shown particularly in two scenes: the boom box battle between Raheem and the Puerto Ricans, and the Night of the Hunter (1955) homage in which Raheem tells Mookie the story of Love and Hate. Ultimately, it is Raheem that actually incites the conflict, as Public Enemy’s â€œFight the Powerâ€ blares from his boom box, driving Sal into a fit of racist madness. The classic â€œVertigo shotâ€ (zooming in while simultaneously dollying out) is used in conjunction with extreme low and oblique angle photography to enhance the discord of the scene.
When the fire department comes, they train their hoses on the rioting people first, showing how little has really changed since the civil rights demonstrations of the 1960s. When the crowd turns on the owners of the Korean market, they escape destruction by saying, â€œMe no white. Me black.â€ This is based on a real life incident recounted in The Autobiography of Malcolm X: during the â€œlong, hot summer of 1964, Korean shop owners escaped the destruction of their business by posting a sign in the window saying, ‘We colored, too.’â€ As Sweet Dick Willie (Robin Harris) says to Coconut Sid (Frankie Faison), â€œYour ass got off the boat, too.â€
The influence of fellow New York filmmaker Martin Scorsese is evident in Lee’s work, particularly in these three films; all three build tensions which eventually erupt in violence, just as in early Scorsese films like Mean Streets (1973) and Taxi Driver (1976). Like Taxi Driver, Do The Right Thing has a coda showing the aftermath of the violence; this represents the circle of life. When Da Mayor says, â€œWe’re still standing,â€ he speaks for oppressed people all over the world, and particularly for African-Americans. This is followed by a pan over to Mookie as he prepares to stand tall before Sal. The two are shot from an extreme low angle, making them pillars of their respective races and viewpoints, not unlike Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten in Citizen Kane (1941). Under the surface, tacitly, Mookie apologizes and Sal forgives him and, in a way, vice versa, a conclusion that was more blatant in the original shooting script, in which Sal reiterates Da Mayor’s advice of â€œalways try to do the right thing.â€ This deceptively simple bit of dialogue is the heart of the film’s conflict: who is to say what â€œthe right thingâ€ is?
Lee underscores this conflict with the film’s closing quotes, showing Malcolm and Martin’s differing viewpoints on the use of violence in the struggle for respect and human rights. However, the final image in the film is that of the two great leaders smiling and shaking hands, showing that these two viewpoints are not entirely irreconcilable; each individual has a choice of with which they agree. As Lee says in the aforementioned book on Do The Right Thing, co-authored with Lisa Jones, â€œYep, we have a choice, Malcolm or King. I know who I’m down with.â€
Indeed, Malcolm X (1992) may be the film Lee was born to make. Ever since he read The Autobiography of Malcolm X for the first time, he had a vision for the film. He says in his book By Any Means Necessary: The Trials and Tribulations of the Making of Malcolm X, co-authored with Ralph Wiley, â€œit was because of Do The Right Thing that a man named Marvin Worth â€“ who had the rights to the material on Malcolm’s life â€“ sent … a letter saying he wanted me to direct the film.â€ At that time, the project was being developed by Norman Jewison, a white filmmaker. According to Lee’s book, after some debate, Jewison told Lee, â€œI don’t know how to do this film, I can’t lick it,â€ and wished him luck.
The results are incredible, a 70 millimeter epic shot in New York, L.A., Africa and the Middle East with an excellent cast and a great script based on an earlier version by no less a writer than James Baldwin. Though its scope is much larger, Lee retained the integrity and strength of Do The Right Thing by employing much of the same crew, including cinematographer Ernest Dickerson, costume designer Ruth Carter and production designer Wynn Thomas. In this way, he brings an epic story of great magnitude down to a human level.Â
The title footage of Rodney King, intercut with the American flag, has the same effect as the fire hoses in Do The Right Thing: it makes the viewer ponder just how far we’ve really come since the days when leaders like Malcolm had to fight for the human rights of their people. The opening tracking shot of Shorty (Lee) walking down the street in Boston is also reminiscent of Mookie’s walk down Stuyvesant street; since both characters are played by Lee, the implication is of the filmmaker personally taking you on a journey through his film.
Lee’s treatment of interracial relationships is important in all three films. In Do The Right Thing, both Mookie and Pino hate the fact that Sal is attracted to Jade. In Bamboozled, Dunwitty (Michael Rapaport) thinks he has â€œa rightâ€ to use the word â€œniggerâ€ because he has a black wife. In Malcolm X, we see Malcolm’s (Denzel Washington) deep-down hatred of his white girlfriend Sophia (Kate Vernon) in the scene in which she feeds him eggs. Malcolm resents the fact that she is with him because he is black; this treatment is similar to his status as a novelty, or mascot, in school, where he â€œwas unique … like a pink poodle,â€ as quoted from The Autobiography of Malcolm X, as told to Alex Haley (1965).
Later, when Malcolm is doing cocaine with Sophia and West Indian Archie (Delroy Lindo), he plays around with a gun, unknowingly pointing it at himself. This action symbolizes his self-destructive behavior at this point in his life. Archie’s finger-â€œgunâ€ retort foreshadows the conflict between them, as well as the tragedy and violence that ultimately overtake Malcolm’s life.
Betty Shabazz (Angela Bassett) is one of Lee’s strongest female characters. Though it is a relatively small role, she is an important and prescient force in Malcolm’s life, seeing the Nation of Islam’s betrayal even before Malcolm, who correctly predicted his own death. When Malcolm does realize his own betrayal, the scene is extremely evocative, with its crucifix-like composition of the window frame behind Malcolm as he prays; the backlighting shows Malcolm as a prophetic figure. When Malcolm visits Elijah Muhammad (Al Freeman, Jr.) after his infamous remarks on the assassination of John F. Kennedy, we see for the first time signs of Muhammad’s bronchial asthmatic condition; it is as if Malcolm’s remarks caused this condition, an implication that shows the mutual disappointment between the two men.
Throughout the film, Lee intercuts black & white footage of Washington as Malcolm, as well as actual historical footage, to lend the film a sense of authenticity. Nowhere is this technique better used than in the Mecca sequence, some of which was shot in 16 millimeter, perfectly emulating footage of the real Malcolm X in Egypt, which we see at the end of the film. Lee had to fight tooth and nail with the Completion Bond Company to actually shoot overseas. As he says in By Any Means Necessary, â€œHow can you have 160 minutes of Malcolm saying white people are blue-eyed devils and then not go spend the time and money to shoot the pivotal moments that caused him to turn around on that thinking?â€ Lee’s vision persevered, and the film is decidedly better for it.
At the Audubon Ballroom, the applause at the beginning of the scene is cross-faded, making it sound vaguely like a siren. This indicates the impending violence of Malcolm’s assassination, which is rendered with just the right amount of intensity: shocking but tasteful. Bassett’s portrayal of Betty’s grief is absolutely heartbreaking, as is Ossie Davis’s subsequent reading of his eulogy for Malcolm; cut together with footage of the real Malcolm X, this is one of the most moving scenes in film history. One of two quotes that end the film is Malcolm saying, â€œYou haven’t done the right thing!â€ in a small self-referential moment that ties the film to Lee’s earlier masterpiece. The other is the final image in the film; after Nelson Mandela and a group of South African schoolchildren illustrate the significance of Malcolm’s life and teachings to today’s world, Lee cuts to actual footage of Malcolm delivering the final words, â€œby any means necessary,â€ a credo by which Lee makes his films at 40 Acres and a Mule Filmworks.
Bamboozled, the 15th Spike Lee joint, is his first film even cut on video (Lee prefers the 35 or 16 mm Steenbeck flatbeds), let alone mostly shot on it. Cinematographer Ellen Kuras used consumer mini-DV cameras to achieve a television-like feel for most of the film. The TV show itself, Mantan: The New Millennium Minstrel Show, was shot on 16 mm to give it a higher production value than â€œreal life,â€ while the bulk of the film was shot on multiple low-end digital video cameras, in part for budgetary reasons. One advantage of shooting with multiple cameras â€“ sometimes as many as fifteen at once â€“ is that every scene can then be shot in one or two takes without destroying spontaneity or hindering the actors’ ability to improvise. As Rapaport says on the DVD, â€œIt’s almost like shooting a play.â€
Bamboozled opens with the sounds of ships creaking on ocean waves, together with Stevie Wonder’s song, â€œMisrepresented People,â€ which creates a sense of history that is very important in a film about a modern-day revival of an old racist tradition: the minstrel show. The first spoken words we hear are a dictionary definition of satire, read by Pierre Delacroix (Damon Wayans). We later find out that his exaggeratedly precise diction and, in fact, even his name, are fake. He, like other major characters in the film, are satirical caricatures, or stereotypes: he and Sloan (Jada Pinkett-Smith) represent the so-called â€œUncle Tomsâ€ in the white corporate power structure; Dunwitty represents the white media’s appropriation of black culture (as Lee says on the DVD commentary track, â€œYep, Dunwitty is definitely a ‘wigger’â€ â€“ a slang term for a white person who emulates stereotypical black behavior to the point of unconscious mockery); Big Blak Afrika (Mos Def) and the Mau-Maus represent the uninformed pseudo-revolutionaries of the rap world; Manray (Savion Glover) and Womack (Tommy Davidson) are probably the most realistic characters in the film, though, as Lee says of Dunwitty, â€œI’ve met people like this.â€ When Manray and Womack become Mantan and Sleep n’ Eat, their personalities are abusively exaggerated until they too are caricatures of their former selves.
Lee and editor Sam Pollard delicately use television techniques such as the â€œMTVâ€ editing style of the inspiration scene, in which we see Dela and Sloan simultaneously thinking of Manray, to evoke the oversaturated, hyperkinetic feel of modern-day media. The over-the-top performances also contribute to this satirical edge, particularly in the pitch scene, in which Dela says, â€œI’ve never really dug deep into my pain as a Negro,â€ and Dunwitty characterizes Keenan and Kel as â€œthe stupidest shit on TV, yo!â€
This is undoubtedly Lee’s most self-referential film: Dela’s original aim is to destroy old-fashioned racist stereotypes by satirically exploiting them, just as Lee is doing with the film itself. Much of this self-reference comes in the form of ad-libs, as when Dunwitty says, â€œI don’t care what that prick Spike Lee says, Tarantino was right: ‘nigger’ is just a word,â€ or when Dela describes a minstrel show as â€œsinging, dancing, telling jokes, doing skits … like In Living Color,â€ a TV show on which both Wayans and Davidson got their start. These and many more self-referential ad-libs might have been lost if the film had been shot more conventionally.
The scene in which Manray auditions for Dunwitty is extremely dehumanizing for all the African-Americans involved, as was the application of black-face for the real-life actors, even for this excellent, socially conscious film (the tears on Davidson’s face in the â€œShowtimeâ€ scene are real). Manray, now officially dubbed â€œMantan,â€ is asked to dance on the boss’s desk, and Dela eagerly gets up, saying, â€œHere, take my chair,â€ in a subtle throwback to times gone by, when blacks had to give up their seats for whites. Glover’s tap-dancing is incredible, and the fact that he can do this for a living is good enough for his character, while the more intelligent Womack is skeptical from the start, but also seduced by the money.
Lee’s influences (including Mel Brooks’s 1968 classic The Producers and Billy Wilder’s great 1950 film Sunset Blvd) are apparent to anyone familiar with them, especially the riff on Sidney Lumet’s Network (1976) in which Mantan screams, â€œI’m sick and tired of niggers, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!â€ Later, Manray amends this to â€œI’m sick and tired of being a nigger,â€ a slap in the painted face of the audience, who represent all of America, especially the media: we symbolically put on black-face, as the audience does literally, by pigeonholing black people into stereotypical roles as performers and entertainers. As critic Stanley Crouch says, historically, â€œthe grand irony … is that it’s as though [black minstrel performers] came and reinforced the bars of the cage they were in, because of their talent.â€ Kuras used blue gels when lighting the minstrel performers in order to suggest the bars of this mental prison.
Though Lee characterizes the Mau-Maus as â€œidiots [who] think they’re uplifting the race by taking a life,â€ he uses Big Blak’s dialogue to express his feeling that â€œgangsta rap is a 21st century version of a minstrel showâ€ (this is, of course, less articulate in the mouth of Big Blak). Lee also uses Sloan’s dialogue to explain why he himself, like her character, collects old racist memorabilia, â€œto remind me of a time when we were considered inferior.â€ Lee kept one of the film’s most important props, the â€œjolly nigger bank,â€ on his desk while writing Bamboozled, and Dela’s office likewise becomes gradually more cluttered with these artifacts until, as if by osmosis, these images overtake his mind and he finally â€œgrowsâ€ black-face. At this point, reality has merged with television, and the scene in which Sloan shoots Dela has a strong soap opera feel to it.
Bamboozled ends effectively as Malcolm X does, with a montage of real historical footage; but, while the shots of Malcolm are inspiring and uplifting, Bamboozled‘s footage from old racist films and TV shows is extremely disturbing, showing that perhaps â€œniggerâ€ is not â€œjust a word,â€ and that these supposedly ancient stereotypes are still being followed in insidiously subtle ways. Dela’s father, Junebug (the great comedy writer and performer Paul Mooney) sums up the basic question of all three films with his elegant cry of pain: â€œWhy do they treat us like that?â€
Ezra Stead is the Head Editor forÂ MoviesIDidnâ€™tGet.com. Ezra is also a screenwriter, actor, filmmaker, rapper and poet who has been previously published in print and online, as well as writing, directing and acting in numerous short films and two features.Â A Minneapolis native, Ezra currently lives in Brooklyn, New York.
For more information, please contact EzraStead@MoviesIDidntGet.com.