I am a movie connoisseur. I’ll watch movies
in any genre except horror, and now because real life is so filled with violent
images, I stay away from movies with extreme violence. I watch movies for
enjoyment but also for knowledge. Even movies that are purely entertainment
contain life lessons. This is a three-part series on movies I’ve seen recently.
They are part movie review, part social commentary. Do you agree or disagree
with my views? What movies have made an impact on you? I’d love to hear your
thoughts in the comment section. As always, thanks for reading.
There was a chorus of discontent
around the docudrama, Detroit by the
Academy-Award winning director, Kathryn Bigelow when it opened. Black folks had
issues with a white director and missing Black women. Some call it a horror film,
and someone I know left the theater before the movie ended. I decided to see it
anyway and form my own opinion. I refused to read any articles or movie
reviews because I didn’t want to be influenced by the thoughts of others.
I had seen Bigelow’s Hurt Locker, and thought it was
excellent. So, I knew that the movie wouldn’t sugarcoat what happened at the
Algiers Motel in July of 1967. Civil unrest plagued the city. There was
rioting, looting and snipers taking shots at the police and National Guard who
were charged with restoring order.
It was the 60s and racial tensions
were at an all-time high. Some young Black people were partying at the hotel and
amongst them were two white women. When shots rang out, Detroit police officers
thought it was a sniper and rounded up everybody. The sadistic officers were determined
to coerce a confession out of the party goers by any means necessary.
It was unflinching unrest and
brutality in your face. The only things filling the screen were looting and
rioting, burning buildings and brutalized bodies. I was exhausted before the
movie ended and was ready for it to be over. It was literally black and white. No
slices of life. We got our asses beat and killed. No justice. The End.
The violence against Black bodies
was so unrelenting that by the end I was numb. The movie focuses primarily on
what happened at the hotel and the trial after. So, all the characters are
flat. They are not complex human beings with lives beyond the walls they find
themselves trapped behind. The characters are victims which leaves little room
for understanding and/or empathy. It's a voyeuristic look at Black pain.
Though we live in the spaces of oppression,
we are more than our bruised and battered bodies. We are more than chalk
outlines on the ground. There is ecstasy in our agony and pleasure in our pain.
Watching the unrelenting brutality of the police officers was too much. After
about 90 minutes I had nothing left in me to feel for characters not because I
didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t afford to. Disconnecting became an act
of self preservation because the movie is 2’22” minutes long and it mirrors
what is happening today.
Things happen to us as a result of
racism and discrimination. But it is not the sum of our existence. The Soul of
Black people is missing from this film. In the midst of our trauma we live. We
love. We laugh. We’re not hiding in the shadows; we’re moving toward the light.
