The Boys in the Boat

Pulling Together in Swing-time

or

Depression and (Water) Displacement and Ripples in Time

 

As a University of Washington alumni, I know all about "The Boys in the Boat" (the legend, not the book or movie, although I know them, too). The UW Shell house still sits on the Montlake Cut* like a shrine of dessicating timbers and peeling, faded paint. But despite the appearance, no one would have it any other way. Because that is where it happened and where it started. Like the ancient armories that still haunt our nation's cities, it is there as a reminder, and is one of the more precious buildings on the campus, despite its humble beginnings and its lack of marble and columns. Those other buildings are more impressive in their architecture, but they don't have the memories varnished into them like the shell house has. It's a Historical Monument in Washington State, nestled as it is among the weeds and well-pooped-on concrete of the cut itself, which separates Lake Washington from Puget Sound and the ocean beyond. A former airplane hangar built in 1918 to house seaplanes and teach WWI pilots, it was repurposed for the UW rowing team to house the rowing shells. They nearly tore it down in the 1970's—when I was going to school there—but cooler heads prevailed, and they're even thinking about restoring the thing. For me, I think that'd just upset the quiet. And the history.

George Clooney has been working on The Boys in the Boat for ten years off and on after M-G-M acquired the film rights for the best-selling non-fiction novel (by Daniel James Brown) from the selling of the assets of the Weinstein Company. One can see why he wanted to do it. Tim Egan in his review for the New York Times said it best: "'The Boys in the Boat' is about who we used to be. And who we could still be. Like the best history, its then and now wow factor is both embarrassing (to the present) and inspiring (to the future)." 

The true story of nine Depression era young men, who were underdogs in every aspect, they applied to the University of Washington Husky rowing crew just hoping for extra cash in their pockets—for the central figure, Joe Rantz (played in the film by Callum Turner, evoking a younger, less contemporary Ben Affleck), it meant he could continue paying the University's tuition pursuing an engineering degree—and a rent-free residence on campus. Rantz had been living in an abandoned car in a Seattle Hooverville, and had been on his own since the age of 15. He was about to be kicked out of the U-Dub if he couldn't make up the other half of his tuition. A notice on a bulletin board suggested opportunity and he took it. He needed the job.

The school's rowing coach, Al Ulbrickson (played in the film by Joel Edgerton), was under pressure to re-energize the program after some disappointing seasons, and took a chance on finding new blood with his bulletin board notices. He already had a varsity team, but he was looking for a back-up crew in a junior varsity team, and he needed options if he wanted to compete. He wanted to keep his job.

But, there's something about synergy. These guys with everything to lose have to build up their endurance, brave the blisters and calluses and the brutal Northwest mornings and form a team and a rhythm where they're perfectly in sync in order to cut like a knife through the water without any hesitations, off-timing, or mistakes that might undercut the boat's momentum. Add in a slightly non-conformist coxswain in Bobby Moch (Luke Slattery) and you have an interesting mix...if nobody screws up.

Well, SPOILER ALERT** they go on to win gold in the 1936 Berlin Olympics against the best in the world—after qualifying against well-funded Ivy League crews ("That's something money can't buy" the coach says at one point.)—as well as threats from UW Husky boosters that Ulbrickson is championing his junior varsity squad over the legacy varsity team (the jv's are faster, give me a break), and Ivy League snobbery about whether the rightful winners, although poor, should be going over to Berlin when the losers could afford the trip. There are so many potential compromises and double-crosses in the theme of legacy and office politics that there seems to be a constant struggle just to achieve one's goals despite working harder. There is also the internal pressure on the athletes who suffer from imposter syndrome, performance jitters, and an ill-timed flu.

It's all so earnest and old-fashioned and Clooney leans into it like he's actually on the oars himself, hearkening back to an era where money was tight, people were desperate, but still managed to have the dignity to pull together rather than fly off, self-centered and self-absorbed, in the interest of "looking out for No. 1." Sure, I can get all cranky and say that the film lacks suspense (See **), and that Clooney, with his limitations on "where to put a camera on a racing shell", can't quite generate the adrenaline surge an audience expects in these things. But, I think I'd be missing the point of the picture—that people should be working for something better than themselves. And the more fat and sassy you get, the more it weighs everybody else down. It's a message that should resonate with all Americans these days, but, instead, I think that, cynically, it will be met with suspicion...and from circles that the film SHOULD appeal to.

But, the world is topsy-turvy now, so much so that Orwell would be shocked and appalled (and be forced to say "you can't make this crap UP!"). But, the bottom line is these guys were winners. They won the gold. They beat the odds and outlasted the hurdles placed before them by lesser mortals. 

 And nobody can argue with that.

* The indigenous Duwamish tribe had a word for the area that would be dug out to become the Montlake Cut—sxWátSadweehL , which is Salish for "Carry a Canoe."

 

** C'mon, this happened in 1936. The book's been out since 2013. At some point, there's a statute of limitations for spoilers on historical fact. Blame me? Blame yourself!  

The Green Knight (2021)

Getting Ahead for Christmas

or

Won't You Tell Me What's Gawain On...

 

I'm a big fan of the works of director David Lowery (Ain't Them Bodies Saints, Pete's Dragon, A Ghost Story, The Old Man and the Gun) which are diverse and visually strong and striking. He makes movies that respect viewers and give them something lovely to look at and something to chew on. They're not exactly "easy sells" for the studios, but with The Green Knight, we're getting as close to a super-hero movie as Lowery is ever going to get.

 

And it's a stunner.

 

It's the old Arthurian legend, "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" written 700 years ago by an anonymous scribe, who tells the story of a young knight-lite, who accepts the challenge of a Christmas intruder at Camelot, and, in a year's time, must pay the price of retribution.

 

It's a story about honor and self-sacrifice, which is also a tough sell at the box-office these days.

But Lowery has taken the basic frame-work, done a lot of research, read the interpretations (like Tolkien's) and put a spin on it that has been there all along, but folks might not have recognized because they were concentrating on the men-folk.

At the time of the film's beginning, Gawain (Dev Patel) is hardly a noble knight, rarely spending time at the court of Camelot, although King Arthur (Sean Harris) is his Uncle, and, instead, holding his own court at the local brothel, where his regular partner is Essel (Alicia Vikander). She loves Gawain, but is quite aware of their difference in stations. Indeed, when she suggests that nothing would make her happier than being his lady, Gawain responds with silence.

Visiting his mother, Morgan le Fay (Sarita Choudhury), on Christmas, she gives him grief for not attending the King's holiday feast and he relents, only to find that the King requests him to sit by his side during the proceedings. Quite an honor, but why? Unbeknownst to Gawain or anyone else, his Mother has been performing a ritual in her tower, which may or may not have produced a guest at the gate. A gnarled, wood-veined figure, The Green Knight, rides on horseback into the hall full of royalty, knights and the famous round table, with a challenge.

Is there any knight so bold and so brave to take him on in a fight? But, before you answer, there's a catch: Should that knight survive, in a year's time, he is beholdened to travel to the Green Chapel, where whatever blow the strange figure has received will be reciprocated in kind. Gawain accepts the challenge and the King hands him Excalibur for the task. To Gawain's surprise, the Green Knight kneels and bears his neck...and Gawain chops off his head with one swift stroke.

But the Green Knight does not die. He picks up his head, reminds Gawain of his obligation and leaves...laughing. The die is cast. The challenge is clear. It is not so much besting the Green Knight as it is making good on the promise to accept the fate that awaits him and keep his appointment. With (as the film's chapter title says) a "too-quick year"'s anticipation of the event, he who undertakes the journey to the Green Chapel must truly be a brave knight...and a man of his word. But, is that Gawain? He hasn't demonstrated such nobility before.

Arthur has something to say about it: "I don't know any great man to march to death before his time...do not waste this." And so, Gawain sets out to make his way to The Green Chapel. For the journey, his mother braids a girdle that, she says, will prevent any harm to him while he wears it. That doesn't guarantee, of course, that he will be completely safe. Along the way, he is robbed of his horse, the Green Knight's battle-axe, and the girdle, and left bound and gagged while the robbers caper off.

It is here that we see a neat visual story-telling trick from Lowery cluing us in to the sort of man Gawain is—and giving us a better handle on the story he's trying to tell. The director's camera circles the woods where Gawain is helpless and once we've made the full revolution, we come across him again—a full skeleton left to rot. Circle again and Gawain is there, still alive, flesh AND bone, but now, with the vision of what could be if he does not act, he painfully crawls along the ground to his sword in order to attempt to cut his bonds.

Lowery will pull this idea again, later in the film, showing us an alternative future should Gawain falter, and that he has a choice to make if he is to succeed in his quest. He is not an instinctual knight, of pure thought, bold, brave and chivalric. He can go either way, and it is his choice that will decide his fate, to take action and do the right thing, the honorable thing, the sacrificial thing, the knightly thing.

On his journey he will meet a ghost (and do it a kindness), encounter giants and trust their counsel, meet a companionable fox, and encounter a castle that offers welcome, but also a tempting means of escape. But, he goes on, rewarded by his trials by getting back all that was taken from him.

It's a weird, fantastical tale, told with simple, startling images that are in danger of distracting from the story's point: given a choice, would we do what is right, what is noble, or would we chicken out, be weak, give in to our baser instincts, or be lazy slobs and not disciplined, principled actors. It's a question that we should put before all of us, if we have the wherewithall to listen, to admit that we might be wrong, might be weak, and that we can do better, whether it's not to cut someone off in traffic, or withhold that snarky tweet, or consider the fate of others as we would our own.

 

Gawain is put to the test. So are we all, even if we bear no armor, wield no axe, and will never have poetry written about us.

Zero Dark Thirty

Written at the time of the film's release.

"You Know That Thing We Talked About"
or
How Are Things in Tora Bora?

Writer Mark Boal and director Katheryn Bigelow have made the two most important dramatic films about The War on Terror: the 2009 Best Picture Oscar Winner The Hurt Locker and now, Zero Dark Thirty, which covers the behind the scenes investigations to track down Usama bin Laden and the subsequent Operation Neptune Spear in Abottabad, Pakistan.

The film originally started as a feature about the carpet bombing of Tora Bora, and the field work leading to the decision and was scheduled to begin filming when the raid occurred. Immediately, the other film was shelved, and Boal began writing this, incorporating his research from the previous work which dovetailed with the earlier effort. It's a fascinating, troubling story of human beings waging war on an intimate level, trying to secure threads of information on a specific target, while also trying to keep track of new terror acts that might occur any time, any where.

It focuses on one woman, a CIA analyst named Maya (played by Jessica Chastain)—her IM handle is "Maya173", but "Mark Owen," the nom de plume of one of the Navy Seals participating in the raid, refers to her in his book "No Easy Day," as "Jen." Maya is book-smart, street-savvy, but must learn "the ropes," literally, of interrogation by any means necessary. She is trained in the way of torture by Dan (Jason Clarke), who has been at this for awhile and has it down to a science—the speech "If you lie to me, I will hurt you," the loss of control, the humiliation, the physical and mental stresses, the releases from which information may come. Dan offers to keep Maya out of it, but she demurs. She will participate. She will actively sweat information out of the "detainees" in the euphemisms for prisons like "CIA Black Sites." "You are not being fulsome in your replies" she yells as she slams her hand in the interrogation table.  And when she's not participating, she's poring over other interrogations, reams of intelligence, and being a general pain in the rear to her superiors and colleagues. For station chief Joseph Bradley (Kyle Chandler), the job is to walk the razor's edge of politics and prevent more terrorism—he doesn't even care about bin Laden anymore, as there are too many attacks he's trying to prevent—every attempt that gets by is a failure.

But, for Maya, bin Laden is an obsession, her white Muslim whale, and it takes a zealot to find another zealot. She'll veer off into other investigations, particularly when some of her own are killed in an attack, but time only intensifies her resolve, almost becoming a mania, and her patient investigation is off-set by a gloves-off approach to her superiors (when asked her role in the briefing by the C.I.A. director—at the time, Leon Panetta—played by James Gandolfini, she replies "I'm the m#####-f##### who found this place, sir"), almost as if her persistent pressure torture techniques are being applied up the chain.* The Obama White House dithers over action until absolute proof is obtained that bin Laden is held up at the Abottabad compound, but Maya is resolute. When more cautionary analysts give the odds at 60%, she defiantly ups the odds to 100%—"Okay, 95%, because I know certainty freaks you guys out." But, it's that certainty that fuels Seal Team 6 in their mission—in the videos below, she's specifically mentioned and lauded in Mark Owen's account.

It is a fascinating movie, but a draining one, starting with torture scenes and ending with a recreation of the raid as it went down, shot mostly in tense disorienting night-vision. The character of Maya, or "Jen" or whoever she is, is a fascinating one, a portrait of obsession and the toll it bears—she's repeatedly told that she looks "terrible" throughout the movie—and when she lashes out at her superiors for their lassitude, or just plain pusillanimousness, there is a definite sense of someone unhinged—controlled, but pushed to the breaking point. A fury waiting to unleash, she is our version of a Holy Terror, a match for her enemies, and one can't help but wish her peace...suspecting that it will never happen.

2020 Addendum: Zero Dark Thirty came under some attack at the time of the release for its presentation of torture and its techniques and the implication that information obtained by it led to the critical information that led to the Abottabad raid. The movie is vague enough and the information so voluminous that one comes away with the impression that it wasn't critical to the intel (indeed, the location was confirmed by other means). As for the portrayals being an endorsement of torture, that's a little hysterical—to not portray it would have been 1) a whitewash of what was going on and 2) leaving out a specific chunk of the shaping experience of Chastain's "Maya"—one might just have well kept out the car-bomb attack that killed her colleagues. The character is driven by her experiences, hardened by them...and by her personal need for revenge. Her torture training is part and parcel of it. 

I came away from the film seeing a revenge drama that ended up, not in triumph, but in hollowness. The dead are still dead and the threat is just as real. There's no "Mission Accomplished." Just an "X" placed in a ledger that never empties.

I'll repeat what I said in the asterisked point. Zero Dark Thirty walks such a fine line that one can see whatever they want to in it.

The FBI's notice of bin Laden's death and the Situation Room during the raid.
Bear in mind, one helicopter went down during the raid.

* There are torture scenes, but they're not commented on, and any politicizing of it is so much hot-air—one can see in the film any position they want.  It walks a very fine line, merely presenting, and if someone tries to see their point of view in it, they're merely counter-projecting.  

Red Sparrow

From Russia, With (JLaw)ve
or
Welcome to the Trump Nightmare

If prostitution is the world's oldest profession, "honey-trap" is probably the second. That conceit of deceit is such a useful tool of spy-craft (and entertainment about it) that one doesn't need look over the "spy" or "thriller" genre even shallowly before running into it (the first review of this month featured Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler from 1922 which had it, and in Hitchcock films, there's Notorious and North by Northwest, it's in the second of the James Bond films and the first of the novels and on and on and on). In films, the concept has always been played for romance, cheap thrills, and instilling some sense of sex and intrigue and the potential of betrayal into the thriller mix. It's a trope of the movies and thrillers, for god's sakes.

That's why it's so damn amusing to see all the "Aunt Flo's" on the internet having their hissy-fits and purple hemorrhages over Red Sparrow, the new spy thriller (based on a book—the first of ANOTHER trilogy—written by former CIA op Jason Matthews), re-teaming director Francis Lawrence (he did the Will Smith I am Legend and Water for Elephants) with his "Hunger Games" star Jennifer (no relation) Lawrence. The difference is Matthews wasn't working to amuse, but to paint a darker, colder, and more realistic "take" on the sordid business of finding an opponent's weak-spot and exploiting it, a strategy that employs all sexes and permutations. The "honey-trap" business was the first to embrace the LGBTQ community without any discrimination, whatsoever (as opposed to our military who preferred homophobia to national security after the 9-11 attacks by dismissing much-needed Farsi translators if they were gay). This is a point that Red Sparrow brings up, but does not exploit. If they had, I think there would have been less squawking about Jennifer Lawrence and the bloody violence and the sexual manipulation. Maybe. Maybe, it's because people don't like their romantic tropes and fairy-tales punctured.

Dominika Egorova (Lawrence, Jennifer Lawrence) is living the good life in Moscow. She is the prima ballerina at the Bolshoi Ballet, toasted by everyone, and feted by party officials. The position provides a good apartment downtown and medical care for her Mother, Nina (Joely Richardson), who is suffering from...we're never sure what. During her performance at the opening gala, her dancing partner, Konstantin (Sergei Polunin) lands on her leg, snapping it, effectively ending her career...and with that, will go the apartment and her Mother's care.

Dominika is approached by her Uncle Vanya (heh...oh, he's played by Matthias Schoenaerts) who is high up in Soviet Intelligence. He is (of course) sympathetic to Dominika's plight, but gives her a chance that she might be able to take care of her Mother. He has a little assignment: He wants her to seduce a Party official and replace his phone with one provided by the SRV, so they can plunder his information, but also track him and...maybe find out his voting patterns. It's sure not anything to do with Russian orphans. Just saying. He also tells her that her rival at the Bolshoi is now the prima performer, and has long been rumored to be involved with the dancer who broke Dominika's leg. It is Vanya's opinion that Dominika was "I, Tonya'd"

Dominika sneaks into the Bolshoi one night, not completely healed from her leg injury, walking on crutches. When Konstantin and her rival, Anya, are finished with their practice, she waits, and finds them in the sauna snogging. Using her cane, she attacks Anya, breaking her jaw, and beats Konstantin, effectively crippling him. Vonya notes the coincidence of the attacks, but says nothing. Dominika has a job to do.

Once she is back on her feet, a dress is provided, a room booked at a swanky hotel, and a time when the official, Ustinov, will be there. She is given the phone, but has no idea what the device will do. Her main concern is attracting the attention of Ustinov. She needn't have worried...Ustinov has left his party and is buying her a drink within two minutes of her sitting at the bar.

It is simplest of matters to convince Ustinov that she will do what he wants if he can provide medical assistance for her Mother...but she doesn't anticipate how aggressive a predator Ustinov is. Before she can even think about replacing the phones, Ustinov is attacking her. But, he is interrupted by a masked figure wrapping a wire around his throat and strangling him, his blood falling on Dominika who can only look on with horror. The masked man, an assassin named Simyonov (Sergej Onopko) tosses her some clothes, a motorcycle helmet, and an escape route past Ustinov's guards, and brought to a secure location where she is told by Vanya that the rendezvous was always going to be a "hit," that she wasn't informed to get her cooperation and, now that she's the only witness to the murder, her life will be in constant danger from intelligence officers...unless she becomes one of them. Dominika has no choice but to be sent to "Sparrow School."

Dominika has another term for it: "whore school," but for her safety and her Mother's, she goes to the remote location, where she is greeted by "Matron" (Charlotte Rampling) and she is told that her "body belongs to the state," and she and her fellow-recruits, male and female, will be taught espionage skills and the fine art of manipulating human beings to their purposes. But, first, they have to be broken down, their past lives forgotten, their attitudes erased, their inhibitions discarded—they belong to Mother Russia now, which (as Matron explains) must take the place as the supreme power of the world, given the breakdown of the West.

It's at this point, that it all clicked into place for me; Red Sparrow is merely Ian Fleming's From Russia With Love from the "honey-pot" point of view. The scenes with "Matron" have an eerie, creepy similarity and Rampling's play-book for her performance in her role is very similar to Lotte Lenya's (she played the Russian Colonel Klebb, who recruits the girl—also a former ballet dancer—to the task of seducing a spy from the other side). And, damn, if that isn't the exact-same assignment Dominika is given; a CIA agent, Nate Nash (don't laugh...he's played by Joel Edgerten) has been making regular contact with a Soviet spy named Marble (??) but after a suspicious meeting in Gorky Park that had all the appearances of some form of trap, Nash managed to escape getting caught and has fled the country. His contact has made it plain that he will only deal with Nash, who is now stationed in Budapest, and it is up to Dominika to find the agent and find out who "Marble" is, so that he can be eliminated. Just like From Russia With Love. But, without the gadgets. Or the quips. Or the train-fight. Not even an exploding helicopter.

One of the handful of times Lawrence smiles in the film.

Or the fun, for that matter. You can count on one bloody hand-print how many times Lawrence smiles in this film—her face is usually a determined inscrutability, a mask that hides what she's thinking or where her loyalties lie, which is important to the drama, and her words? She says what will gain her the most advantage, saying what everyone wants her to say.  But, it is a tough film and Dominika is ruthless, but not in an action-cartoon sort of way (like Salt or Atomic Blonde or even as "the Black Widow" is presented in the Marvel films. The fights are not balletic, the violence is...messy and bloody. There is one particularly grueling fight that seems to take as its inspiration the killing of Gromek in Hitchcock's Torn Curtain—not as stylized, though—that has its central thesis just how hard it actually is to kill someone.  

In fact, the film is brutal in ways that will make you wince...a lot. Matthews wanted to portray a more realistic spy-world where water-boarding is just a prelude for nastier ways to extract information and it is anything but glamorous. In fact, be prepared to be repulsed. There are no "nerve agents" in Red Sparrow, but the deep-rooted Soviet animus inherent in such attacks—as recent as last week's in Salisbury are very much evident. The graphic garrotings and flayings employed by the Simyonov character are merciless, and, in fact, the whole movie's tone is that way, even that of the movie's protagonist.

But it feels more "right" (or should we say "appropriate") for the movie to take this tact when morality is the farthest thing from any objective being portrayed. It's a world of blackmail and cold manipulation, and even if it does have a "kicker" that might be satisfying to an audience, one can take no pleasure in it...or the movie.

Director Lawrence makes the thing look great and he has a good cast—I haven't even mentioned that Jeremy Irons and Ciaràn Hinds are in it as high Russian functionaries—Edgerton is a bit bland, but then, he's supposed to be, and Lawrence manages to make her sparrow vulnerable when she needs to be (in the first part of the film) and deliberately opaque during the rest of the film's course, while, for the most part, keeping her Russian dialect—as tough to sell (think of Cate Blanchett in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) as any accent there is. She's always interesting to watch, always making tough choices, and capable of even making her state-run little monster relatable.

Loving

God's Law
or
Loving, Simply Loving ("It's an Easy Choice")

Evolution isn't a theory, it's a fact. It is as sure as life and death, which are the main driving engines of the process. The strong survive and the weak die. Those who can adapt, live. Those who can't adapt become the dust of history. It was ever thus. And to deny it is foolhardy. And if you think I'm wrong, stop taking that medicine you're on. Take your chances with Nature.

Funny way to start out this review of Loving, the story of two people who changed the law of the land just by loving each other, and knowing right from wrong. When Barack Obama was elected President, it was a pivotal moment in our Nation's history. It wasn't because he was the first African-American President—that merely knocked down a false-wall that had been up a long time and was due to collapse under its own stupidity. No. What I found significant was that Obama was the child of what used to be called a "mixed race" marriage. Pop was black, Mom was white. And 42 years before his election, such a marriage was deemed illegal in more than a third (16) of the United States until 1967 when the Supreme Court voted unanimously to overturn "anti-miscegenation" laws. That means that that particular prejudice was erased in slightly more than a generation. And that IS significant. That's fast. That's good.

Writer-director Jeff Nichols is fast, too. This is his second film release of 2016, after the quite good sci-fi story Midnight Special, released in April of this year—Loving premiered at Cannes in May and reached wide release in November of this year). The true story of Richard and Mildred Loving (yes, that was their name), who married on July 11, 1958 (at the time, 24 states of the Union had anti-miscegenation laws). they were arrested and jailed five weeks later because Virginia, their home-state, did not consider them married and because he was white and she was black.* "That's no good here," the arresting officer told them, they were charged with the crime of "cohabiting as man and wife, against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth" and the presiding judge over the case agreed, citing (in the appeal to hid decision done in 1965) that "Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his [arrangement] there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix."**

The Lovings were, essentially, banished from the state for 25 years and told that if they returned to the state and insisted on staying married, they would be thrown in jail. They were put on probation for just enough time to leave Virginia (they had married in Washington, D.C., where it was not illegal and subsequently moved there, isolating themselves from family and friends, or face imprisonment).

The Lovings were together, but they weren't home. As they became a family, and children joined them, Mildred became concerned that the kids were growing up in an urban environment rather than their country. After one of them was hit by a car while playing in the street. Mildred threw a "Hail Mary:" she contacted then-Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who forwarded her letter to the ACLU, who took on their case and took it to the Supreme Court (you can hear the oral arguments below).

The film Jeff Nichols has made of their story should be required viewing to anyone interested in film, sociology, or who just like a good love story. Nichols didn't have to do much "filling in the blanks" on his film; the "Loving v. Virginia" case is extraordinarily well-documented. There was also a definitive documentary that HBO did a few years ago called The Loving Story, which gathered together all the footage that had been accumulated while the case was going on, as well as personal photos taken by LIFE magazine that had been given to the family. Nichols doesn't have to do anything fancy—the story is amazing enough with just the transcript. He's aided and abetted by Ruth Negga and Joel Edgerton (who's never impressed me before, but whose simple restraint in his performance speaks volumes—I defy anyone to not get chills when asked by one of the ACLU lawyers is there's anything he wants communicated to the Supreme Court and replies: "Yes...just tell the judges...I love my wife."), who quietly make you feel for these people, who never weakened, and remained strong in their love despite, while not being against the world, but, at least, against their country. 

And that's why I started this review talking about evolution. Because if the one thing that's constant in the Universe is change, then you can't rule out love, either. Love lasts longer than hate or prejudice. Love survives politics...is less ephemeral than fashion or ideology. Love lasts longer than the usefulness of words like "miscegenation." Love goes beyond generations. Love changes, dramatically, and the only constant in the Universe is change. Hopefully, it's for the better and love is usually the engine for that change.

And as your Bible says "Love never ends" (but it's been changed to say "Love never dies" in some versions). Love lasts longer than that.

* Mildred Loving identified herself as Native American, rather than African American—her mother was Rappahannock and her father was Cherokee, but really...are we gonna go there?

** To give him his day in court, those views were not precisely those of that judge, Leon M. Bazile, but he cited as his precedent the views of the 18th century biologist Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, who categorized the races based on cranial sizes. Even science (when it is opinion) can be ephemeral when used in an unscientific way. Ironically, Judge Bazile died in 1967, the same year his decision was overturned by the Supreme Court.