Saturday, September 27, 2008
On Spike Lee
filed under: miracle at st. anna, spike lee
I could write blind for an hour about Spike Lee. Baldwin said something about discovering that you’re a writer rather than deciding to become one, and peeling the layers back to my own realization took me till the age of 22. I had published three comic-book fan letters, wrote to and was published in Right On! (“Where can I write to Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis?”) as a kid, blah blah. But not till seeing School Daze my high school senior year, renting She’s Gotta Have It and gobbling up Spike’s “making-of” books did I think of writing as a career, and here I am. Spike mentioned some- where in She’s Gotta Have It: Inside Guerilla Filmmaking that if you wanna make movies, get your writing game up. He said Hollywood was more likely to let you direct what you wrote if your writing was strong. You could always just direct other people’s stories, but that’s not that Fellini/Woody Allen/Scorsese shit (though they all occasionally did, yeah, direct things they ain’t write). And “what I really want to do is direct” like everybody else – hold me to that in five years – so I started taking writing more seriously. Nobody in my fam made a living off anything artistic, so that was another hurdle to clear, but like I say, here I am.
The Spike Lee retrospective at the Cinémathèque Française ends Sunday, and Miracle at St. Anna just dropped today in the U.S. I published something on France, race and the Spike Lee film festival over on TheRoot.com today. In the closing weeks, I made it out to Summer of Sam, When the Levees Broke and, last night, the highly underrated He Got Game. Like the first crop of films I saw for the second, third time earlier this month, some new things stood out to me in bas-relief. Like:
- The opening shots of baskbetball playing in the sticks of Americana over Aaron Copland orchestra music in He Got Game. What other director would score a movie to two different soundtracks by Aaron Copland and Public Enemy? (Their last good album, by the way.)
- The dead bodies and dead babies floating in Levees. I’d only seen 20 minutes of this one on a visit to NY last year. The four hours was harrowing, not for the length, but for the… experience. I missed Katrina, I was half a world away. With the hurricanes and the $700 billion financial crisis, tell me I’m wrong about America going to hell. (OK, I’m being dramatic.)
- The great disco in Summer of Sam! The soundtrack doesn’t even have the best stuff. “Running Away” by Roy Ayers; “Let No Man Put Asunder” by First Choice; Machine’s “There But For the Grace of God Go I.” I’d seen the movie twice before and never noticed Grace Jones’s version of Edith Piaf’s “La Vie en Rose” before, because I just discovered it here like two years ago.
- I wasn’t a father the last time I saw He Got Game. Don’t know about you, but I’m good for putting myself in the place of the protagonist when I see a movie. If you watch films this way, then any flick with father vs. son drama will dredge up your daddy issues. And we’ve all got strong emotional stuff tied to our parents, positive or negative. The plot has pull; messed up that it didn’t make its money back, despite the then-almighty Denzel.



t.tara at 4:05 AM on 09/27/08:
With you there, brother. When I met Spike, I stammered and failed to make an impression but hopefully I make it up with the words. Anyways, the most underrated movie for me, always, is “Mo Better Blues.” It was pure accidental/prepared genius. From the colors, the story (I still get girls who can’t figure out if Indigo or Clarke was the b*tch), the music and the Brooklyn love – I, in my Detroit swagger, lost my mind. It was the first time I got lost in a movie. I’ll shout you out the review for St. Anna when I see it. Stay up!