'Star Wars' as America's Wars
Also, Reviews of 'Crash,' 'Monster-in-Law,'
' Layer Cake' and, in Brief, 'The Longest Yard'

By Esther Iverem
SeeingBlack.com Editor and Film Critic

Talk about these movies and Black film issues! Click here.

In Brief: The Longest Yard: On the heels of "Spanglish," Adam Sandler continues to expand his on-screen persona beyond that of a mentally challenged White guy. In this prison flick, he plays a former NFL quarterback who is committed to a federal prison where football games are staged to satisfy the personal obsession of the warden. The introduction of sports allows for all kinds of truisms or stereotypes about the superiority of the Black athlete, the ruthlessness of cheaters, and how sports games often have far more to do with what is happening off the field than on the field. The repeated ridicule of prison homosexuals is really tired, but the football game climax, required of this genre, has lots of the required drama for die-hard fans of the gridiron.—Iverem

'Star Wars' as America's Wars

In the final production for his iconic "Star Wars" series, director George Lucas has combined a dazzling display of special effects, human transformation and stark lessons about the ease of transforming democracy into evil empire.

Really. If you have any doubt about the political underpinnings of these films, those doubts should fade by the conclusion of "Star Wars: Episode III—Revenge of the Sith." Lucas has not only saved his best movie-making for last, he has also thrown his biggest political punch in this series originally conceived as a response to the Vietnam War and then President Richard M. Nixon. This riveting episode, the final prequel to the original trilogy that began with the 1977 "Star Wars," chronicles the eerie transformation of the young Jedi knight, Anikan Skywalker, into the evil Darth Vader. As Vader, we know he will enforce the military might of the republic as it evolves into a naked and brutal aggressor. (Sound familiar?)

It's all here. Anikan's wife, Senator Padmé, (Natalie Portman) wonders out loud about how a democracy can change into something else. At some point, she sits in the stadium-like Senate hall and watches in disbelief as the notorious Chancellor Palpatine whips the legislative body into war frenzy with boldface lies. "This is how liberty dies," Padmé says with disdain. "With thundering applause." And then there is Anikan himself, declaring in an egotistical rage, "If you are not with me, then you are my enemy," which sounds a lot like George Bush's "for us or against us" sound bites in reference to his so-called war on terror.

There are blistering battles in space, on land, and on a burning sea of lava. The firepower and choreography of fighter ships are spectacular in their terribleness, yet, like a computer-manipulated air assault, cool and mechanical. The intensity and realism of the fight scenes bring to mind the title of the Chris Hedges book, "War is a Force that Gives us Meaning" and reinforce awful the attractiveness of violence. There is the haunting effort to hunt and kill the brave (and diverse) Jedi Knights, sort of like Plato calling for the death of all poets, the only ones who have a chance of revealing and overturning the evolving wrong world order.

Big ups to Ewan McGregor, who plays Obi-Wan Kenobi; Samuel L Jackson, who makes the on-screen screwface of the year while in a fight to the death; and to of the creators of Yoda, who continues to move that little green body to kick some serious butt. (And, by the way, these battle scenes, as well as the overall set design, make the effects in the first "Star Wars" movie, though groundbreaking in their time, look like student work, sort of.)

The film is weakest in its wooden intimate moments between Anikan (Hayden Christensen) and Portman, who have never developed an onscreen chemistry. Yet perhaps such awkwardness is appropriate for the interactions of a man who shuts down his own soul. Aside from the hairstylish Princess Leah, "Star Wars" has always suffered from a dearth of any women of consequence. And in this final piece of the puzzle, as we wonder what it could be that chases good-hearted Ani to the dark side, we learn that it is his fear of losing the woman he loves. He tells himself that it is love that drives him, yet his fears makes him easy emotional prey for the manipulative Chancellor Palpatine.

It's all here. No one that I know of has ever has ever lauded Lucas for being a feminist. And certainly Star Wars has reinforced the notion of White men as the rulers, and tyrants, of the universe--and their dark side and black cloaks as evil. But, in this final effort at least, Lucas has gathered all of his light and explosive magic, his trinkets, toys and creatures, to pose important questions that dwarf his deficiencies, and that now stare this planet in the face. —May 19, 2005

A "Crash" of Race Reality

An auto wreck is a mighty metaphor for American race relations in this multi-layered and revealing film by Paul Haggis. Set in Los Angeles, where a myriad of folks co-exist but never touch, "Crash" tells the interlocking stories of a variety of people, including police officers, a television producer, a District attorney and his wife, a store owner, a locksmith and two carjackers. All are striving but flawed humans. No one is noble—or a noble savage.

One factor that sets "Crash" apart from other films that attempt to dissect American racism, is the honesty and intimacy of the dialogue–the White gun dealer who refers to a Persian customer as "Osama," the White wife who assumes a Latino locksmith is a gang member, a Black wife who ridicules her light-skinned husband's authenticity as a Black person—and as a man.

Even if we are unaccustomed to being privy to these conversations, these moments are emotionally true—and often emotionally raw. Thandi Newton, the bi-racial British actress who many of us would not consider to have a strong Black identity, plays here one of the most emotionally searing parts, in recent memory, that conveys the accepted social, physical and sexual abuse of Black women in the United States. She plays the wife of a television show producer (Terrence Dashon Howard) who finds his position of being his own man under assault, literally, at every turn. Then there is Don Cheadle, in the role of a police investigator who balances upward mobility with the reality of his disfunctional family background. Finally, Larenz Tate and rapper Ludacris team up as another version of L.A.'s finest—a pair of bold and seasoned carjackers.

There is plenty that is Black to see here that feels authentic, even though the film is written and directed by a White man. It certainly has more to say about race than any other recent theatrical release. Perhaps its audacity in this regard will put it outside the good graces of White film critics who believe that people do not talk or feel this way in real life. Perhaps they have become so used to race being handled as a joke, most especially if it is a Quentin Tarantino-type joke, dripping with "political incorrectness," sarcasm, irony and brutality. Most of all, these critics don't want to be reminded of the pervasiveness and true evil of racism, or to be reminded that racism is power over people's lives everyday. They want stories like Clint Eastwood's "Million Dollar Baby," that satisfy their own sense of the superiority in strength and morality of Whites. What do these "agendas" have to do with movie-making, they ask. Are we talking cinema or politics?

Well, we are talking both, all in one breath. And so is "Crash."
—May 6, 2005

Fonda as a "Monster-in-Law"

Some sleight of hand is afoot in "Monster-in-Law," which marks the return of Jane Fonda to the big screen after 14 years. Sleight of hand, I say, because somehow, despite being unbelievable and catty, this film still manages to pull a rabbit out of its hat.

That rabbit is obviously Fonda, whose eyes still sparkle and who, at age 67, unapologetically shows the wrinkles with the smiles. She plays the part of Viola Fields, an aging and recently canned television talk show host who tries to foil her only son's new romantic relationship. Fonda's portrayal of that particular type of neurotic, manipulative and phony woman of privilege has moments of sheer wit and comedy. In combination with asides from Viola's assistant, played by the funny Wanda Sykes, this routine definitely has some jokes.

That positive being said, "Monster-in-Law" also suffers on many fronts from its own successes. It has drawn two actresses with a decided social profile outside the realm of movies and while Fonda rises to the occasion as a comedic actress, it is still hard to imagine her, or her counterpart, Jennifer Lopez, engaging in such a silly catfight. As the story bounces along, too tense to generate consistent laughter and too absurd to be taken seriously, it sort of takes the tenor of a soap opera, with Fonda operating as the wicked Mrs. Chandler from "All My Children," and Lopez being any hapless ingénue silly enough to cross her path.

Also, this Cinderella routine for J-Lo is getting really tired. Maybe soon she can move beyond these roles that keep her in the role of either slyly seeking or needing a man. Maybe for her fans, she is like a modern–day Doris Day but, whereas Day was cast as a social equal to her suitors, Lopez plays the parts of a women of marginal means marrying up into a higher echelon of society (and usually White society, but that's another matter). In this story, she plays the part of Charlotte (Charlie), a temp and dogwalker who quickly meets and melds with a successful surgeon (Michael Vartan). Despite Charlie's claim of disinterest in relationships, she zeroes in on the doctor like a heat-seeking (or should I say, ring-seeking) missile. And, to be fair, he zeroes in on her too. This is supposed to be love at first sight, though Lopez and Vartan don't achieve much of a spark on the screen, and even though it's not clear to me if Vartan is supposed to be foine.

"Monster-in-Law" gets bogged down in J-Lo's well-worn mating territory. If it is true that Hollywood avoids pairing Black male stars with a Black girlfriend ("Hitch" anyone?), then it must be equally said that Latinas—with their racial mutability—rarely if ever get to fall in love with a Latino man on the big screen. Certainly not J-Lo. Perhaps the biggest point of tension in "Monster-in-Law" is this underlying disparity, and the different film worlds of its two biggest stars.

The Euro Gangstas of "Layer Cake"

The British flick "Layer Cake" is a European version of a modern gangster flick—full of sudden and brutal violence with a decided cynical edge. This is one of those movies that wants to beat us up and make us like it. It is a sadist in search of a theater full of masochists. Comparisons to the Quentin Tarantino style make sense. It defies many pro-forma American aspects of gangster flicks, and openly snubs our desire to rout for the latest slob who gets to beat the system.

The central unnamed character, XXXX, is played by Daniel Craig, the model-thin actor whose startling blue eyes look like miniature planets spinning in his head. Sporting his alien eyes, high cheek bones, blonde hair and fashionable style, XXXX is a new-styled yuppie gangster. He has decided that he's dealt enough cocaine and that he's ready to quit the game. To paraphrase Montel Jordan, he's sold a million kilos and he's making the dash. But not so fast, says his boss Jimmy, who wants XXXX to search for a wayward young woman, last seen all hugged up with a crackhead named Kinky. The plot gets complex, and then more complex, when XXXX makes a deal with some amateurs to buy a million Ecstasy pills and finds himself smack in the middle of a nasty drug war.

All along the way, in this story based on a novel and screenplay by J.J. Connolly, there are many American gangster flick conventions defied by director Matthew Vaughn. In a cold light, XXXX and his band of fellow thugs appear more like benign social misfits than hardened criminals. Then they turn around, each of them, and commit some brutal act. Morty (George Harris), XXXX's muscle and enforcer, joins the unlikely madness when what at first seems like an uncomfortable meeting between he and an old friend degenerates into one of the more vicious beatings in recent movie-making. Morty is Black and his presence, like the subtle racism of many of the film's players, is treated very matter-of-factly. Sometimes it is difficult for American ears to understand the British accents and expressions, and some of the plot gets a little convoluted. But no translation is necessary. There is a certain gangster talk, expression and intention that is universal.

XXXX himself is the anti-Scarface—and, therefore, anti all our standard notions about what a true gangster should be. When he holds a gun to his enemy's head, he is like any of us would be—tentative, paralyzed by doubt, fear and the human impulse to create and not kill.

This key moment in the movie is one of those where Vaughn wants us to think of XXXX as a human being, and not as an android. Every film generation and audience gets to pick its criminal heroes. It is important that we identify with and like the criminals, whether Al Capone, Michael Corleone, Tony Soprano, Daniel Ocean or Nino Brown. Vaughn plays very close to the edge of defying our need to like XXXX. By the film's end, you might wonder why you should care at all about him and his motley crew—even if they do get to sell their million whatever and make their dash.

Iverem's reviews of "Layer Cake" and "Monster-in-Law" first appeared on www.BET.com.

— June 1, 2005

© Copyright 2001-05 Seeing Black, Inc. All Rights Reserved.