Selma: The Whole World Was Watching

Now that the Oscar ceremony is over, the sound and fury surrounding the movie Selma has largely subsided. All the points of controversy, among them the film’s take on President Lyndon Johnson and the failure of the Academy to nominate director Ava DuVernay and star David Oyelowo, are now pretty much moot. Certainly, I was as surprised as anyone that Oyelowo won no nomination for his stirring, convincing portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King. In a year when the portrayal of real-life heroes (Alan Turing, Stephen Hawking, Chris Kyle) was being richly rewarded by those with prizes to give, Oyelowo’s work certainly merited recognition. Which was why, of course, the Oscar broadcast was at pains to feature Oyelowo throughout the evening. (I’ve got to say—I loved that maroon tuxedo.)

With the question of statuettes now out of the way, I should add that I’m deeply grateful for Selma. Not so much for its aesthetic achievements, mind you, as for its contribution to the historical record. Needless to say, no feature film can ever hope to be 100% accurate. In telling a story that will connect with viewers over a two-hour period, filmmakers necessarily cut corners and make mental leaps. Still, even those of us who were alive during that tumultuous era need reminding of what happened, and why it did. One key function of movies is to give us visual images that allow the past to live on. With Black History Month just wrapping up, it seems high time to salute Selma for putting before our eyes (even in a necessarily truncated form) what went down on Alabama’s Edward Pettus Bridge in March 1965. What happened fifty years ago has much to teach us about today’s racial divide, and I thank DuVernay and company for the memories.

My viewing of Selma is part of why I approached Marvin J. Wolf’s recent publication, I Will Vote, with excitement. Wolf, a veteran journalist and my colleague in the Southern California chapter of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, started out as an aspiring U.S. Army combat photographer. In early March 1965, because the Army needed him at Fort Benning,  Wolf headed in his own car from Los Angeles to Georgia via U.S. Highway 80. His route took him through Montgomery, Alabama. As he approached Selma, fifty miles west of Montgomery, on the morning of March 9, he was surprised to see this normally sleepy country town crawling with cops. He soon learned that Dr. King was in the vicinity, supporting a voting rights demonstration that had quickly turned ugly. (Around the time Wolf arrived, a white Unitarian minister named James Reeb died from injuries inflicted by white racists who’d been deputized by Jim Clark, the notorious sheriff of Alabama’s Dallas County.)

Wolf had with him only three rolls of film. (Remember film cameras?) He shot as many photos as he could, capturing the image of neatly-dressed black protesters, solemn-faced white clergy, alert news reporters, and policemen feeling the heft of their nightsticks. Wolf was particularly taken by the earnest face of a black female college student wearing a button that announced, “I will vote.” Then a rock was thrown in his direction, and a giant of a deputy in bib overalls knocked him to the ground. He prudently left town, and those three rolls of film were forgotten for almost fifty years. How fascinating to see now what he captured then.

By the way, Marv has another new non-fiction book out, Abandoned In Hell, The Fight For Vietnam's Firebase Kate. Old journalists never die . . . thank goodness!  

To look at the Civil Rights era from another perspective, check out my colleague James McGrath Morris’s new Eye on the Struggle: Ethel Payne, the First Lady of the Black Press. It’s gotten terrific reviews, and I look forward to reading it myself.

On Martin Luther King Day, a Hero’s Journey

Despite my best intentions, I haven’t yet seen Selma, a film on which I was counting to freshen my memories of the Civil Rights Movement and Dr. King’s central role in preaching the gospel of non-violent resistance. It’s been many years since we  UCLA students were lucky enough to see and hear Dr. King in person. On a beautiful sunny day, he spoke at an outdoor rally attended by thousands of campus folk. He galvanized us then, and I’ve been looking forward to seeing David Oyelowo (so surprisingly snubbed by Oscar voters) in this historic role.

Members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the bestowers of Oscars, generally dote on heroes, of which Dr. King must be considered a shining modern example. But more and more, lately, they’ve also been giving Oscar kudos to men who play real-life figures with severe flaws, whether physical or mental. Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing, Eddie Redmayne as Stephen Hawking, Steve Carell as John du Pont: all earned Oscar nominations for tormented roles. Bradley Cooper too has been honored for taking on a biographical part, that of sharpshooter Chris Kyle in American Sniper. Though I know the backstory, I haven’t seen that potential blockbuster, so I’m not clear on whether the heroic aspects of Kyle’s character outweigh the darkness of his life and death. Which leaves Michael Keaton, who in Birdman fascinatingly negotiates the distance between superhero and actor with feet of clay.

I hardly blame African-American movie fans for feeling upset that a bona fide hero from their community has been overlooked. There’s an unfortunate assumption in this country that black men mostly confine their heroics to sports arenas and musical performance venues. While on the treadmill at my gym, I was watching the lead-up to Sunday’s big football play-off games. (Hey, while exercising I’ll watch just about anything, the better to distract my mind from the sweat equity I’m trying to build.) Football, at its best, inspires a lovely camaraderie between black and white, both on the field and in the broadcast booth. I saw articulate African-American pundits, many of them former sports heroes in their own right, oohing and ahing over the abilities of young African-American tackles and running backs. As a player, if you can play well and refrain from mauling lesser mortals during your down-time, a hero’s welcome awaits you.

At the movies, most biopics starring African-American leading men focus on athletes and musicians. In 2014 alone, there was a Jimi Hendrix biopic (Jimi: All is By My Side), and one featuring the hardest working man in showbiz, James Brown (Get on Up). Having recently read Inside the Godfather, a compilation of anecdotes by Brown’s son Daryl and Michael P. Chabries, I know that the very talented Brown led a life chockfull of torment. Oscar, anyone? But though there has been high critical praise for the lead performance of Chadwick Boseman (who’d also played Jackie Robinson in 42), the film did not soar. 

Not many big-budget films dealing with black history feature someone known for his mind, rather than his muscle or his musical chops. In 2013, Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom was also pretty much ignored by Oscar voters. The star of that film, Idris Elba, is a powerful and attractive actor. He’s also British (as so many of today’s top black actors seem to be), and I have a hunch he could step into James Bond’s wingtips in a few years. It’s good to see black actors starring in heroic biopics, but there’s no reason they can’t be our fantasy heroes as well.