Spike Lee's Magical History Tour

Spike Lee is no stranger to controversy. In fact, he willingly pursues it.

His films have repeatedly jabbed into some of the most explosive issues of race relations in America. He also has a fondness for violating political taboos.

Lee loves to simply argue. His career his been clocked by a multitude of professional feuds. But most of all, he likes to engage the audience in debate — real, hard-driven debates about real issues.

No wonder he's so annoying: he wants to make people think.

Lee speaks at Mershon Auditorium May 20 to kick-off "A Weekend of African American Heritage," sponsored by OSU's Student Events committee. As usual with Lee's presentations, ample time for questions and answers with the audience will insure a lively, spontaneous evening.

Lee's first feature film, She's Gotta Have It, was the surprise hit of 1986. The film's ability to draw both white and black viewers paved the way for the current boom of productions by African-American filmmakers.

Lee's shrewd ability to raise production money from Hollywood while retaining
independent control over his films has served as a model for many other black filmmakers. His habit of presenting himself as the self-ordained spokesperson for African-American filmmakers, however, has often encountered resistance from many of his colleagues.

Lee is more of a Hollywood hustler than he might publicly care to admit. He has a drive for merchandising that rivals that of George Lucas and Walt Disney. While his film Malcolm X was attempting to deal with one of the most important political figures in modern America, he was trying to slap an X logo on every piece of fabric he could hawk from coast to coast.

For Lee, the dividing line between politics and advertising has the bouncy flexibility of a pair of Air Jordan's.

There is no denying, however, that he is one of the more gifted and distinctive
figures currently working in the cinema. That is simply a fact. At his best, in such films as Do The Right Thing and Jungle Fever, Lee can deliver an in-your-face argument balanced with a sense of irony and depth that is rarely given due credit. Even in a weak work such as Mo' Better Blues, his command of visual lyricism almost redeems the film's snail-like pace.

But most of all, Lee is a much-needed agitator. Right or wrong, for better or for worse, he stirs debate. In many ways, he is no radical, a fact that he slammed into head first while filming Malcolm X. Some of the most severe criticism of the film has come from African-American intellectuals. Yet Lee is the person who has forced many issues into a broad public forum.

That alone is an achievement.

Crooklyn

Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to mind your own business. Take Crooklyn, for example. With this, his latest film, a surprisingly mellow Spike Lee makes a sentimental journey back to his old neighborhood circa 1970 – a trip filtered through the innocence and malleability of children, as they grapple with the high anxiety of the adult world. Crooklyn is a slow, subtle and often rewarding movie.

According to Time magazine, however, Lee’s trying to set a social agenda for black filmmakers.

Say what? Even Lee has given up on the idea that he can set any kind of an agenda for anyone else. Besides, if the over-the-hill white boys at Time want to blame somebody for introducing a social agenda into the African-American cinema (as if this were a unique idea), then they should take that issue to Charles Burnett (director of To Sleep With Anger). Lee himself has acknowledged Burnett’s influence on black film making, and in some ways, Crooklyn plays like an extended homage from Lee to Burnett.

Crooklyn is a will-o’-wisp of a movie held together by the slim but tender plot thread of a middle-class Brooklyn family that’s desperately holding on to its economic foothold, while the musician father (Delroy Lindo) takes a slippery gamble in the pursuit of pure music. The family’s held together by the sheer, harsh and often embittered tenacity of the mother (Alfre Woodard in the best role of her career). She frequently comes across as a shrew, but her love for her family extends even beyond death.

At its best, Crooklyn possesses a sense of emotional intimacy and an authentic feel for its place and time that makes it a joy to watch. Despite a few false steps, Crooklyn is a good slice-of-life study.