Do the Right Thing

Do the Right Thing (Spike Lee, 1989)

"Now, watch and I'll show you the story of Life..."

It's been 22 years since Spike Lee launched his "Our Town" in Bed-Stuy, with Rosie Perez's aggressively pneumatic dance to Public Enemy's "Fight the Power." Twenty two years since the critics came out of the screening at Cannes saying that Lee's movie would foment race riots throughout the Summer, rather than cause the orderly lines around the block it did. Twenty two years since Lee debuted his movie about a particularly special day in the battle between Love and Hate: the hottest day of the Summer, the best day that Sal's Pizzeria ever had, the day Da Mayor (the late, great Ossie Davis) did another heroic thing in his life.

The day the music died.

And the worst day that Sal's Pizzeria ever had.

And someone's responsible—the least responsible member of the community.Do The Right Thing is Lee's version of Thornton Wilder's "Our Town" (but not with slices of middle-American white-bread life) and everyone (but everyone) thinks they're the Stage Manager. It's Charles Schulz's "Peanuts" with attitude, as all the characters have one aspect that defines their personality and, like the strip, something radical has to happen in order for them to break out of their self-inflicted stereotypes.* And maybe grow up.

The diverse, huge cast and series of one act diversions is a culmination of something Lee's been saying since the beginning and folk of all types have been mis-reading. It's not about black versus white versus Latino versus Korean versus Jewish. It's "us" against "them," cop versus citizen, young versus old, man against woman, and this particular pizza, forged in the heat, can be sliced all sorts of ways, but probably not equally. Because when it comes to hate, there's no such thing as fair.

Except your fair share of it.

What it is is the age-old tribal struggle of the pissing match between privilege and entitlement and who thinks who's got what. Everybody marks their territories with lines of death that no one can cross. And on the hottest day of the year, those lines get mighty stinky.

The last words of Lee's previous film, School Daze, are the first ones in Do the Right Thing: "Wake Up." In the previous film, they are hollered by Dap (Laurence Fishburne) in frustration and desperation, a protest. In DTRT, it's the reveille of Mister Senor Love Daddy (Samuel L. Jackson) at the start of his shift on We Love Radio, but the context is the same. Become awake. Become aware. Don't sleep-walk. Look alive. It's a warning, but still a wake-up call.  Open your eyes, people.

The wandering begins along the streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant color-filtered through Ernest Dickerson's floating lens.  Ugly attitudes have never been so beautifully filmed, approaching M-G-M Technicolor in its vibrancy and beauty.  The crowds ebb and flow, clash, curse and break apart, some wander like vagabonds, while others, acting as a Greek chorus, stay planted and observe and trash-talk. Locations vary between street and stage, at time, sometimes appearing to be aflame with color from the heat...but the constant music (like the American Graffiti soundtrack) emanates from boom-boxes and radios and the nearby station, mixing genres and styles—a polyglot of aural wallpaper, something for everyone. 

Do the Right Thing might not be Lee's most accomplished work—I think that might be Malcolm X, for its breadth and depth—but, it is the one that shows his love of movies. Take for example, the bling-knuckled demonstration by Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn)of Love and Hate, taken with few differences from The Night of the Hunter:

The Mitchum soliloquy ends with the old woman saying "I ain't ever heard it better told," whereas Lee's Mookie, after an uncomfortable pause, sums it up dead-pan comically ("There it is, Love and Hate") and non-committally (as he is wont to do until the end). Mookie is the fraying thread that holds the film together, despite his lack of ambition and any sense of active responsibility—Lee habitually plays characters in his films that are morally problematic (as opposed to M. Night Shamyalan's parts in his own films). He pairs him up with John Turturro's Pino (racist with no dolby and nor squelch and no backbone), when Sal treats Mookie's sister (Joie Lee) as a treasured customer. For both Mookie and Pino, the kindness crosses the line, is suspect and turns the heat up a bit on their attitudes. It's the one thing they agree on, but for different reasons (Pino, because she's black; Mookie, because she's family).

That complexity belies the simple tale of Love and Hate, pointedly, and Lee's entire film offers a tragic counter-point. It's never sure who to bet on in the fight, as both sides will take rounds and both sides will sustain damage. And we might not even know when the fight is over.

But I ain't ever seen it better told.

In 1999, The Library of Congress inducted Do the Right Thing into The National Film Registry, just 10 years after its debut, and the first year it was eligible.

* One character—Danny Aiello's top-lined Sal—is consistently inconsistent, due in part to Aiello's ad-libbing  sections of Lee's script, which Lee allowed him to do, perhaps to build dramatic tension about what the man is going to do.  We'll look at a key scene—and how it differs from Lee's script in this Sunday's "Don't Make a Scene."

Don't Make a Scene: Do the Right Thing

The Story: In the hub-bub, swelter and melee of Do the Right Thing, random acts of kindness are jumbled up with a constant beat-down as ever-present as the rattling bass-thump from a boom-box. In Spike Lee's version of "Our Town: Bed-Stuy" tossed with mixed (and salty) "Peanuts," a kind word is part of the stew of curses, a kindness is looked on with suspicion and rarely reciprocated.

There are many locales where the events of the film take place, but the most happen at Sal's Famous Pizzeria, which on this hot Summer day will see its best day and its worst night.  Run by Sal Fragione (Danny Aiello) and his two sons, Pino and Vito (John Turturro, Richard Edson), the pizza place is where everyone comes to get a slice. Twenty-five years in the neighborhood, Sal's is a hub of activity, not all of it good.

This scene is one shot, one take, but it's not as scripted.* At some point, Aiello and Lee agreed that the actor could ad-lib parts of his dialong, and, as a result, the character of Sal becomes a little more soft, more paternal towards his customers...and maybe a bit clueless where his son gets his anger (we've seen Sal get into some heated discussions before this scene, and we'll see more). It makes Sal a bit inconsistent in his attitudes, but then...maybe you can blame it on the heat.

The Set-Up: Hot town. Summer in the city. The tensions that already run high are simmering on the sidewalks and streets of Brooklyn. There's a break in the activity at Sal's and time for a father-son chat.

Action!

INT: SAL'S FAMOUS PIZZERIA--DAY

Sal takes a seat at one of the tables.
SAL: I'm beat.
Pino sits down next to his father.
PINO: Daddy, I been thinkin'. Maybe we should sell this place, get outta here while we're still ahead...and alive.
SAL: You really think you know what's best for us, Pino?
PINO: Couldn't we sell this and open up a new one in our own neighborhood?
SAL: There's too many pizzerias already there.
PINO: Well, maybe we could try something different.
SAL: Wha..What am I gonna do? What am I...That's all I know. What am I doin'? I been here twenty five years. Where am I goin'?
PINO: I'm sick of niggers, it's like I come to work, it's "Planet of the Apes." A bad neighborhood. I don't like being around them, they're animals.
SAL: Why you got so much anger in you?
PINO: Wired that way.
PINO: My friends, they laugh at me, they laugh right in my fuckin' face, they tell me go to Bed-Stuy, go on, feed the Moulies.
SAL: Do your friends put money in your pocket, Pino? Food on your table? They pay your rent? The roof over your head? Huh?
Pino is quiet.
SAL: They're not your friends. If they were your friends, they wouldn't laugh at ya.
PINO: Pop, what can I say? I don't wanna be here, they don't want us here.
PINO: We should stay in our own neighborhood, stay in Bensonhurst.
PINO: And the niggers should stay in theirs.
SAL: I never had no trouble with these people.
SAL: I sit in this window every day. I watch little kids get old. And I seen the old people get older. Yeah, some of 'em don't like us. But some of them do. I mean, for Christsake, Pino, they grew up on my food. On my food.
SAL: And I'm very proud of that. Well, you may think it's funny, but I'm very proud of that.
SAL: Look, what I'm tryin' ta say, son...is that Sal's Pizzeria is here to stay.
SAL: I'm sorry. I'm your father, I love ya, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.
SAL: (chuckles) How ya doin'?
SMILEY: Hi, Sal! Two dollahs.
PINO: Get out!
PINO:(Pino raps hard on the window) GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, MAN! Get the fuck outta Here! (Pino gets up and goes ouside)
SMILEY: Two dollah's Sal.
PINO: Whatsamatter? Get outta here. Get the fuck outta here, man.
BYSTANDER: Hey, hey, hey, HEY!
PINO: Every day, it's the same shit. Hey, what? So there? Get a fuckin' job! Why don't you get a fuckin' job, man! Go to work! Get outta here. Get OUT!
PINO: See what I'm sayin'?


Do the Right Thing

Words by Spike Lee (and Danny Aiello)

Pictures by Ernest Dickerson and Spike Lee

Do the Right Thing is available on DVD through the Criterion Collection.

*
INT: SAL'S FAMOUS PIZZERIA--DAY


Sal takes a seat at one of the tables.


SAL I'm beat.


Pino sits down next to his father.


PINO Pop, I think we should sell this place, get outta here while we're still ahead...and alive.


SAL Since when do you know what's best for us?


PINO Couldn't we sell this and open up a new one in our own neighborhood?


SAL Too many pizzerias already there.


PINO Then we could try something else.


SAL We don't know nuthin' else.


PINO I'm sick of niggers, it's a bad neighborhood. I don't like being around them, they're animals.


VITO Some are OK.


PINO My friends laugh at me all the time, laugh right in my face, tell me go feed the Moulies.


SAL Do your friends put money in your pocket? Pay your rent? Food on ya plate?


Pino is quiet.


SAL I didn't think so.


PINO Pop, what else can I say? I don't wanna be here, they don't want us here. We should stay in our own neighborhood, stay in Bensonhurst.


SAL So what if this is a Black neighborhood, so what if we're a minority. I've never had no trouble with dese people, don't want none either, so don't start none. This is America. Sal's Famous Pizzeria is here for good. You think you know it all? Well, you don't. I'm your father, you better remember that.

BlacKkKlansman

Politics is Another Way to Sell Hate
or
You've Got No Skin in This Game

Any time Spike Lee does a movie, it's an event; he's one of the few filmmakers who can actually be called a "stylist" (along with Spielberg, Scorsese, and a handful of others), who even as he explores the story-telling form, advances film-language, expands the vocabulary and moves the art forward, stylistically, artistically, and in the form of content and how it can be effectively communicated to an audience.

His new film, BlacKkKlansman—based on a true story (or, as expressed in the film, "this joint is based on some for real, for real shit") tells the story of Ron Stallworth (played in the film by John David Washington, son of Denzel) who, working as the "first black recruit" in the Colorado Springs police department, decides to investigate the local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan—or, as it was preferred to be called internally, "The Organization" or "The Secret Society" (all in the interest of removing any "stigma" that might be associated with white supremacy or Neo-Nazi's of the past and selling bigotry and racism as inoffensively as white bread).

Now, how would a black officer do that, specifically? Well, it turns out, it takes a village, and making sure that you're targeting village idiots.

After Lee does some priming back-story for the youngsters—in the form of Alec Baldwin portraying a racist cleric making a propaganda film (for comedic effect, we get the out-takes) against a projected backdrop of D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation—we see young Stallworth—his 'fro is perfect—going to a job interview at the Colorado Springs precinct, where he is being considered as its first black officer, a position he is warned, that will make him the district's Jackie Robinson, breaking barriers but also having to endure the resistance of his fellow officers ("Do you really think a police officer would call me that?" he asks, rather naively, in front of dumbfounded interviewers). 

Well, he's a perfect candidate, a credit to his race. The thing is, the duties for the barrier-breaking first black officer is to work in the basement records department fishing for files on demand. As he tells his captain (Robert John Burke) this is not what he signed up for.

Then, a breakthrough: he's asked to go undercover at a speech given by radical Stokely Carmichael (Corey Hawkins), presented by the Colorado Black Student Union. See who's there, find out what the speech is, see if Carmichael, who was with the Black Panthers, is going to be stirring up any trouble in town. Stallworth will be the plant—as he's the only black officer—with the operation to be run by two other undercover cops: Jimmy Creek (Michael Buscemi, and, yeah, he's just like his brother) and "Flip" Zimmerman (Adam Driver). They wire Stallworth up for sound and monitor his activities, including chatting up the head of BSU, Patrice Dumas (Laura Harrier, from Spiderman: Homecoming), all in the interest of research, of course.

Patrice and Carmichael get roughed up after the speech, when she and Stallworth hook up at a bar later, and he asks her enough questions that she starts to suspect that he's a cop—"pig" is her word, and he tells her he doesn't use that term. But, he's clearly interested in her and she in him—it's too bad that this is the part of the story that's completely fictional, but it does give Lee a chance to openly contrast the merits of changing "the system" from within and without, using Ron and Patrice for point-counter-point.

His jaunt undercover lands him a promotion to detective, where he gets to decide what he wants to investigate—he doesn't want to do the drug detail—but a recruiting ad in the local paper for the KKK gets his attention. He calls it, gets a voice-mail, leaves a message. He gets a reply about joining "The Organization," to which he expresses enthusiasm using racial slurs and his fear that his sister is dating his sister and his revulsion at the man "touching her pure lily-white body." That sells him to the recruiter.

One little problem: Ron makes a rookie mistake on the phone call by giving the guy his real name. Since Ron is (ya know) "black" there is the distinct possibility (not certain, though) that the Kluxers might suspect something suspicious if he actually goes to one of the meetings himself. So, the police force decides to put its collective head together and decide that a white detective should  maybe go in his place, posing as Ron. In a line that evoked the biggest laugh in the theater, Ron says "With the right white man, anything is possible!"

It's decided that detective Flip will be Ron at the face-to-face meeting, as he has the closest sounding voice to Ron (Jimmy Creek, frankly, sounds like Steve Buscemi!). That has its own potential danger, even for a white guy—Flip is Jewish. But, then, whoever they pick would probably have something about them to offend the KKK. As Flip-Ron gets indoctrinated amid the misfits making up the small Klan chapter, Ron-Ron steps up his game, keeping Flip surveilled during his encounters, and keeping in touch with The Organization, developing a phone-relationship with Wizard David Duke (Topher Grace). Between the work of the two "Stallworth brothers," they raise their creation's prominence in the KKK, to the point where "Ron Stallworth" is in line to become the local chapter's next leader.

Things come to a climax when Duke comes to Colorado Springs to meet "the boys in the hoods" while the chapter plans to bomb another meeting of the Student Union. And, as if there isn't enough going on, Ron-Ron is picked by his boss for the job of protecting Duke while he's in Colorado Springs. Why any police captain in their right mind would do that is one of the biggest "Oh, Really?" moments in the film. 

The thing is...it really happened that way.

This is one of the least mannered films in Lee's career. It's as if the absurdity of the situation allows him to let loose of the clasped-tight reins that he usually keeps on his films. Maybe it's the setting or the time-frame, as he and cinematographer Chayse Irvin use a 70's pallet and some of the forms of 70's blax-ploitation films (split-screens, anyone?) to evoke the era. There's an almost Brooksian verve in the presentation of Ron-Ron on the phone, contrasted with the constant tension of Flip-Ron at his meetings. The KKK are never shown as less than dangerous, but concurrently shown as less than organized and structured, like a glorified Scout troop without a den-Mother.

But, loose as it might be, it still comes with a strategically designed "all-stories-come-together" climax that is as deft as anything Lee has made in the past, where stakes are high, and resolutions are not as easy as they may appear. And, once again, he caps it with a coda that easily transitions to current affairs, set to an amazing rendition of "Mary, Don't You Weep"—by Prince—that moves and reverberates long after leaving the theater.

Rest in Power, indeed.

BlacKkKlansman won the Grand Prix at this year's Cannes Film Festival.