Monday, December 21, 2020

Taking a small axe to a big tree

Safe to say that the most towering achievement in filmmaking this year is Steve McQueen’s highly-personal “Small Axe” series of five films, now appearing on Amazon Prime, about the experience of West Indian immigrants to the UK (the so-called “Windrush generation” brought over after WWII, and its progeny).  This is a remarkable and creditable way to use the clout of his Best Director Oscar for 12 Years a Slave.  The series takes its name from a Bob Marley song, and could be taken to mean a small insular community taking on the institutional forces of racism and bias.
 
Mangrove (MC-90), like Stonewall, refers to both a place and a movement:  a small Trinidadian restaurant in Notting Hill, and the uprising of a marginalized community in response to police brutality.  After a loud but peaceful protest against official harassment, which turned violent when the police attacked, the Mangrove Nine were charged with “riot and affray.”  The first half of the movie follows the restaurant becoming a community center, and attracting the attention of some racist cops (pardon me, bobbies), and the second half is taken up with the Old Bailey trial of the protestors, reminiscent of, but an interesting contrast to, the contemporaneous Trial of the Chicago 7. 
 
Lovers Rock (MC-95) takes a totally different tack, portraying one night’s house party in the 1980s era of the eponymous musical genre, which bridged reggae with Motown and foretastes of hip-hop.  Not welcome in British pubs and clubs, new immigrants from the Caribbean mingle with the children of an earlier generation to celebrate their distinctive sound and the mixing culture it evokes, both sensuous and rocking.  The film puts you right in the middle of the dance floor, participating in the ecstasy and the passion for 70 intense minutes.  Also on Prime is the documentary The Story of Lovers Rock, which fills in a lot of background and context, especially on the Janet Kay song “Silly Games,” which features so prominently in the McQueen film.  After the doc, I watched the party film again, with another whole level of appreciation.  It’s a profound revelation as well as a visceral experience.
 
The next two films in the series depict the contrasting life arcs of two real individuals.  Red, White & Blue (MC-84) follows Leroy Logan (powerfully portrayed by John Boyega) as he leaves behind a career as a forensic scientist to enter law enforcement, on an unlikely quest to reform institutional racism from within.  In counterpoint, his father determinedly pursues his day in court after being beaten by a pair of bigoted cops on a bogus parking violation.  Two strong Black men who can’t see eye to eye despite their deep bond.  Only when seeing the character’s name listed as a consultant in the closing credits did I realize that this was the true story of a real-life superhero.
 
Similarly, it was only after watching Alex Wheatle (MC-77) that I learned that the title character would become the prize-winning author of numerous YA novels, even an MBE.  An outcome hard to imagine after the dire story of his beginnings in foster “care.”  His story intersects with other Small Axe films when at 16 he’s a founding member of a “sound system” like that in Lovers Rock, and at 18 he’s incarcerated for participation in the Brixton riots of 1981.  This is the slightest film of the series, but still packs a punch.
 
Education (MC-88) is short as well, and a bit more didactic, but also rings with an implicit autobiographical authenticity, about a preteen boy who is bright but dyslexic.  As a West Indian, he is shunted aside into a school for the “educationally subnormal,” which is just a dumping ground.  But his sorely overworked mother takes up his cause and becomes an activist, for a group providing supplementary schooling for those underserved by the government, something McQueen himself benefited from.  So this concludes a cycle of films about institutional racism with an affirmation that a small axe can chip away at a big tree, and hope to take it down.
 
Each film works in its own right, but collectively they become a masterwork.  [Closed captioning strongly recommended for all of them, since the patois is hard to penetrate.]
 

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