“Malcolm X” (1992)
“By any means necessary.” So said Malcolm X, also known as Malcolm Little, also known as El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz. What does “by any means necessary” mean, in the context of today’s current events? It means that politeness cannot be the guiding light of the American populace when it comes to enacting serious political change. When one is dealing with fellow citizens who earnestly believe that certain nonwhite/female/nonbinary members of our society simply do not have a right to exist, tapping someone politely on the shoulder just won’t cut it. X himself was a titanic presence: a former criminal, a folk hero, an advocate for Black America, and ultimately, a wealth of contradictions. You’d need an actor of some stature to be able to embody him convincingly, and watching Spike Lee’s sprawling 202-minute biopic, it’s hard to imagine anyone else other than Lee’s frequent leading man Denzel Washington in the role. Temperamentally speaking, Lee is well-suited for this material. Like X, Lee is averse to false politeness. The director is also an (occasional) critic of mainstream civil rights movements, and he understands that using a megaphone can be more effective than whispering in someone’s ear. “Malcolm X” is one of the great movies of the ’90s: an American epic whose message we must heed today now more than ever.
“Higher Learning” (1995)
The film world lost a giant when John Singleton passed away in April of 2019. Singleton was one of the great Black filmmakers of the ’90s: he was just as comfortable directing humanist street melodramas like “Poetic Justice” and “Baby Boy” as he was overseeing action-packed genre flicks like the 2000 “Shaft” remake and the gritty thriller “Four Brothers.” “Higher Learning” is Singleton’s angriest movie, even more so than “Boyz N The Hood.” In “Higher Learning,” Singleton takes aim at white nationalism, liberal hypocrisy, and the festering xenophobia that swims in the blood of the collective American subconscious like a parasite. “Higher Learning” understands that college is where ardent young academics are given the freedom to espouse their ideals. In that regard, “Higher Learning” presents viewers with an intriguing cross-pollination of warring ideologies in the form of a charismatic Black athlete (Omar Epps), a wallflower who begins questioning her sexuality (Kristy Swanson), and a lost, insecure young man who finds himself drawn towards a bourgeoning neo-Nazi movement (Michael Rapaport, of all people). “Higher Learning” is a timely film of community demonstrations and public shootings and invective-filled standoffs, one whose disgust with racist complicity is as palpable as the rage of its characters.
“La Haine” (1995)
“La Haine,” a pivotal, jittery slice of French neo-realism from director Mathieu Kassovitz, is a film whose title roughly translates to the word “hate.” Hate is something we’re seeing far too much of in today’s headlines, whether it be in the form of white nationalists descending upon peaceful protestors, or the endless stream of bile that is regularly pushed out into the Twittersphere by the current President. “La Haine” is not necessarily a film about hate, but it is a film about the power of anger. Kassovitz’s narrative feature debut speaks the language of the dispossessed: its heroes are characters that polite society has either forgotten entirely or willfully turned their backs on. The film opens with footage of riots in Paris before going on to introduce its three main characters, a Jew, a Muslim, and an African-Frenchman, all of whom must endure contentious and occasionally violent encounters with the local law. “La Haine” is a movie that unfolds within ruin and rubble, and the remains of what once was, and Kassovitz’s empathy for those who choose to stand up to government-endorsed tyranny is both tangible and profound.
“Summer of Sam” (1999)
At first glance, “Summer of Sam” reads as Spike Lee’s love letter to one of his creative heroes, Martin Scorsese. It’s a wild story, packed with sex, sadism, and punk rock grime, that beautifully evokes a working-class Italian-American community in 1970s Brooklyn living in mortal fear of a serial killer: David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam himself, who was racking up a body count during one of the hottest summers on New York City record. The film, which could have been mere lurid sensationalism, is actually a companion piece of sorts to “Do The Right Thing,” mostly in that it’s another story of an ethnically divided borough teetering on the precipice of an uproar. Lee’s movie understands the frightening power of the mob mentality, and how deviation from a narrow, aggressive, heteronormative standard invariably makes one an “other,” and therefore, an enemy. The film also understands how searching for a scapegoat in times of despair frequently only begets more damage. Like “Bamboozled,” “Sam” has aged better than its 51% score on Rotten Tomatoes would suggest. It’s a film that offers a terrifyingly recognizable glimpse at a society, our society, that has become brutally divided along lines of race and class.
“Bloody Sunday” (2002)
Paul Greengrass’ nervy, bracingly immediate, on-the-ground style of docudramatic filmmaking has earned him the distinction of being a director who is uniquely equipped to dramatize real-life tragedies, whether it be the September 11th attacks in his rattling “United 93,” or Norwegian nationalist terrorism in his last picture, “22 July.” “Bloody Sunday” was the film that introduced Greengrass to most cinephiles, and it remains one of his shocking, fortifying works. Greengrass has a gift for capturing the fracas of a catastrophe unfolding in real-time, which makes him the ideal filmmaker to tackle the Bogside Massacre of 1972: a civil disturbance where British law enforcement officials opened fire on civilian protestors, taking lives and releasing roiling waves of terror and disarray in the process. James Nesbitt is terrific as Social and Democratic Labour Party founder Ivan Cooper, who led the march that resulted in thirteen confirmed dead. The film’s technical credits are also top-notch, but everything is executed in service of Greengrass’ signature form of tough-minded emotional realism. As a result, “Bloody Sunday” has probably aged better than just about any other work from this director’s filmography.
“V For Vendetta” (2005)
Mainstream genre films can be a great Trojan horse, so to speak, through which political filmmakers can sneak messages about dissent, radicalism, and the cost of personal freedom into otherwise recognizable narratives (think of John Carpenter’s “They Live,” only one of the more prominent examples). That’s certainly the case with the hyper-stylized “V For Vendetta,” which imagines a crypto-fascist totalitarian government not too far removed from the one most Americans currently live under. As an adaptation of Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s acclaimed graphic novel of the same name, the film occasionally struggles to strike a balance between blistering social satire and the action movie thrills promised in its trailer. That said, James McTeigue’s film is notable for its visual iconography alone, particularly the Guy Fawkes mask worn by the movie’s namesake anarchist, played with grave, witty creepiness by Hugo Weaving. “V For Vendetta” attempts to tackle a profusion of hot-button issues – primarily media bias, police corruption, and the imprisonment of innocent people – and while the film occasionally bites off more than it can chew, it most definitely does its best with important subject matter.
“The Wind That Shakes The Barley” (2006)
Look, many of us have found ourselves mired in a one-sided online debate with a well-meaning but clueless white person who argues that the oppression that the Irish have experienced over the years is somehow tantamount to the ongoing subjugation that Black and Brown people are routinely exposed to on a daily basis. This argument makes about as much sense as “I condone equality, but could these kooky protestors maybe cut it out with the rioting?” No one said the Irish have ever had it easy. Where do you think the pain in the work of James Joyce comes from? Ken Loach, one of our most socially-minded directors, is a man who grasps this notion. “The Wind That Shakes The Barley” is Loach’s stirring story of two brothers fighting for Irish independence from the United Kingdom, and it’s one of his most rousing, well-acted efforts. Cillian Murphy is characteristically magnificent as a Cork County native who is (spoiler alert) eventually sentenced to execution by firing squad for the mere crime of daring to declare his existence. After all, isn’t that what the protestors who are currently in the streets are doing: asserting their right to live in a society that actually acknowledges their humanity?
“Che: Pts. I and II” (2008)
Before he was a fixture on the t-shirts and dorm room posters of stoned college students, Che Guevara was a medical-student-turned-Marxist-radical who came to personify the Cuban Revolution in ways that still resonate with people today. It’s tough to say what drew director Steven Soderbergh to the subject of Guevara’s life and work, particularly when you consider that “Che” occupies a somewhat peculiar place in this prolific director’s filmography, landing squarely between the lighthearted, escapist “Ocean’s Thirteen” and 2009’s “The Girlfriend Experience.” Perhaps Soderbergh identified with Guevara’s unwavering, iconoclastic spirit. In any case, “Che,” a nearly 300-minute historical epic that is markedly disinterested in standard biopic plotting, is one of the director’s most fascinating works. “Che” is divided into two parts that shed light on lesser-known facets of the famous revolutionary’s life, and Benicio Del Toro, one of our most chameleonic performers, all but disappears into the title role. What “Che” does is allow us to gaze beyond the veneer of empty, performative activism – like, say, how it’s ultimately more valuable to educate oneself on real-life freedom fighters than slapping their likenesses on pieces of overpriced clothing and calling it a day.
