"..get some Black pictures on those walls!"

Before he can begin his story, Spike Lee must dismantle the rules of classical Hollywood cinema.  Opening credits roll over Public Enemy's “Fight the Power,” a ballad of modern black history, while Rosie Perez, in boxing attire, thrashes in a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues.  The credits dissolve upon the characters introduced in the opening “action” sequence, now languishing in the heat.  They have desires and goals, but seem unable to act upon them.  Conventional Hollywood narratives use history as a mere backdrop for stories and characters.  In Do the Right Thing, history motivates action, or inaction, and characters are the backdrop for a scorching day in 1980s Brooklyn.  Lee suggests that we cannot bend the times to our wills; rather, we must acknowledge the reality of the times, despite our yearning for easy cinematic resolutions.

The story's protagonist is the neighborhood itself, shot through tilted camera angles and set to a haunting soundtrack.  Its inhabitants, who have been saddled with every imaginable communication impediment and interruption, spout obscenities and blast their TVs and stereos.  The constant miscommunication among characters mirrors Hollywood's miscommunication of and with minorities.  Dominant culture cannot "make sense" of the black experience.  The social system itself does not make sense.  Nor can black experience be squeezed into the narrow parameters of conventional filmmaking, even on those rare occasions when black artists are involved.  It's not enough to change the players.  Lee wants to change the game.  Many perspectives and narrative forms are required if the goal is truth.  Just as Mookie destroys his employer's business, Spike Lee leads a rebellion against his industry's standards.  The pizzeria walls must be stripped of glossies in order to make room for black pictures.  And when the pictures finally appear, they are those of activists, not actors.

essay by Monica Ganas
panel discussion following the screening: David Holmes, Lisa Harper, Dan Hodge