On June 25, 2013, the Supreme Court struck down Section 4 of 1965's Voting Rights Act, the law largely recognized as the most substantial legislative product of the Civil Rights Movement.
Nearly a month later, on July 19, President Obama made headlines after claiming that "Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago."
And on Aug. 16, "The Butler," the latest star-studded production from director Lee Daniels, opened in American theaters, nearly eclipsing its $30 million budget in a single weekend.
"The Butler" tells the story of Cecil Gaines (Forest Whitaker, "The Last King of Scotland") as he completes the odyssey from the sharecropping fields of Georgia to the domestic quarters of the White House, where he serves as head butler under seven American presidents from Eisenhower to Reagan.
Audiences see the effect of decades' passage not only within government offices but also in the Gaines household, vivaciously inhabited by Cecil's wife Gloria (Oprah Winfrey) and his sons Louis (David Oyelowo, "Jack Reacher") and Charlie (Elijah Kelley, "Hairspray").
As the turbulent second half of the 20th century passes, Cecil and Louis are separated by their beliefs about race relations in America, at first with typical generational disagreement but eventually in bitter estrangement.
In a film flawed by a certain degree of blockbuster contrivance, the Gaines family, in both its tragic and triumphant moments, remains remarkably believable.
Cohesively capturing over 50 years of political and personal history is no small feat, one audiences probably haven't seen done this well since 1994's "Forrest Gump."
Guided by a similar spirit of cinematic populism, the audience may be doubled over in laughter at one moment and choking back tears the next.
Daniels usually accomplishes his narrative goals, even if this requires he resort to comfortable predictability.
The soundtrack and costumes, for example, are precisely what one would expect: when Cecil's son Louis becomes involved in the Black Panther party, it's no surprise his girlfriend sports an afro like Angela Davis or that Louis wears a beret. Painted in such broad strokes, characters in "The Butler" (but especially Louis) often become caricatures of the political ideas and images of the decades in which they live.
This predictability is also partially true of the film's dramatic performances. Winfrey is a delight: effortlessly intimate, vulnerable and truly funny – in effect, she is herself, which is both the strength and weakness of her performance.
Whitaker is a dramatic juggernaut as the film's title character, the solid and unwavering emotional center of the film. In some ways Daniels' direction underserves the brilliance of Whitaker's performance.
Why heavy-handedly employ music or voice-over narration (which Daniels frequently does) when Whitaker's subtlest gesture, a flicker in his eyes or indication of bodily discomfort, more than suffices to convey what it feels like to be Cecil Gaines?
The scene in which Daniels is best served by his directorial heavy-handedness is when he juxtaposes images of Louis participating in a sit-in while at college in Nashville, Tenn. in the early 1960s with a state dinner Cecil is serving at during the Kennedy administration.
As Louis and his fellow non-violent resistors are beaten, mocked and eventually jailed, Cecil participates in the pageantry and glamour of an American Camelot.
The contrasts drawn in this scene are over the top, but they are also largely historically accurate, not to mention artfully executed and genuinely moving.
American movies about race have sold tickets and, not unimportantly, won Oscars for the past half century.
The question that must be answered in this situation – which will indubitably persist this year with readily predicted (and not undeserved) nominations for Whitaker and Winfrey – is who is really being rewarded by this process, and why?
When Octavia Butler won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her portrayal of the irresistible Minny Jackson in "The Help," she won it for playing a domestic worker in a film with a white female protagonist – a case not so different from the first time a black actress won that award, in 1939, when Hattie McDaniels won for her role as Mammy in "Gone with the Wind."
One of the most refreshing aspects of "The Butler" is that it openly acknowledges its confrontation of racial issues without inserting a white protagonist as a comfortable proxy for mainstream American audiences.
Yes, this is progress, but how much?
As the events of the past summer have shown, the cinema offers only the briefest respite from the realities of the streets and ballot boxes of America.
No matter how entertained they are, audiences should remember that equality cannot be purchased at the box office or rewarded as a statuette.
– By Logan Lockner
Photo courtesy of Follow Through Productions
Read More
Trending
