Milk

written by Dustin Lance Black
directed by Gus Van Sant
Starring: Sean Penn, James Franco, Josh Brolin, Emile Hirsh, Diego Luna, Allison Pill, Victor Garber, Lucas Grabeel and Joseph Cross

Confession time: I don't like biopics. I actively loathe them sometimes, with a few very select exceptions. Don't they always seem a bit formulaic? I mean, seriously, what did we learn from La Vie en Rose that we couldn't have learned from Walk the Line or Ray or (going back even further) The Rose (if you consider that a biopic, which I do). Isn't the story the same? Singers come from humble beginnings, stumble along the way, get involved in drugs, and either break free or remain ensnared? What about films like A Beautiful Mind or Nixon or (yawn...) More of the same. That is why Milk is such a breath of fresh air. It will make convertees out of the biopic naysayers. It announces itself early on, proudly and unapologetically gay and gay and gay. This is a gay movie about the beginnings of the fight for gay rights, pioneered by one very charismatic, very courageous and very openly gay leader--Harvey Milk. None of this "this is a film about people. This is a film about human rights." Wrong. I mean, yes, I suppose it is, but that's missing the point and only further goes to obscure the issue. Harvey Milk wouldn't have wanted the film classified that way. He would have said, loudly and proudly, "this is a gay film." Those who say yes, welcome. And those who in all of their bigotry and single-mindedness dare to say no can go home and watch the world pass you by. This film is gay and it isn't making any apologies, nor should it. This is the film Gus Van Sant set out to make. The result is his best work in many years (possibly since Drugstore Cowboy) and one of the best (if not the best) performance of Sean Penn's career.

The film begins with Harvey Milk (Penn) meeting cute with Scott Smith (James Franco) in New York City on his birthday. He's about to turn forty, working in the insurance business, and still very much closeted. The two meet, make love and talk about life and making a difference. They run away to San Francisco together, where they try to open a business and are met with opposition and discrimination due to their sexual orientation. This sparks Harvey Milk's decision to go into politics. A decision that changed history. Dustin Lance Black (staff writer for HBO's "Big Love") weaves a taut and concise screenplay, focusing on the important moments in Milk's life. His love affair with Smith, which was strained by his political career. His subsequent tryst with an unstable young man named Jack (Diego Luna) and his recruitment of such young activists like Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch) Dick Pabitch (Joseph Cross) and Anne Kronenberg (Allison Pill). It also chronicles the beginning of his struggle with fellow San Francisco city supervisor Dan White (Josh Brolin), his would be assassin. Van Sant's handling of the material is restrained and sensical, yet artful at the same time. Despite the gay subject matter, which will admittedly turn some people off, this is probably one of Van Sant's more accessible films, stylistically speaking.

Regarding Sean Penn, his portrayal of Harvey Milk is one of studied perfection. If you've watched archival footage of Milk speaking (watch "The Life and Times of Harvey Milk"), you will notice how close attention Sean Penn paid to the details. But he also goes beyond the Capote and Ray Charles-esque mimicry that so easily impresses and passes for greatness these days. He makes Harvey Milk into his own fully realized creation, completely losing himself in the role, and understading the character inside and out. The film also boasts great supporting performances from Emile Hirsch (probably most surprising. I was very skeptical initially when I heard he was playing Cleve Jones) and James Franco who reduces Scott Smith to alternate moments of empathetic smolder and twinkled-eyed optimism. Franco is actually perfect for the role of Scott Smith, as Penn is for Harvey Milk. They look at one another, from the first meeting in the Manhattan subway tunnel, to every glance shared in the movie, and it is clear why they love one another. Sean Penn as Milk is warm and inviting, loving and accepting. And Franco's Smith is alight with promise and adoration, with one of those smiles that causes his entire face to smile. Initially, many pundits singled out Josh Brolin as a probable contender for a supporting actor Oscar. He is serviceable and impressive, building on his ever more impressive resume, but his work impresses the least here. This is, at last, a biopic that feels relevant. The death of Harvey Milk at the end of the film hangs in the air, the tragedy so thick you can almost taste it, much like Propostion 8's passing. But, it is not an ending. It is beginning. A win is possible.

The release of Milk has been raising questions about whether it could have affected the outcome of the Proposition 8 referendum in California had it been released earlier. Obviously it's a question that can't be answered, but I offer a stern "no" as a short reply. A film like Milk has a built-in audience. The type of person who needs to be swayed into voting no on Prop 8 will not see, nor will they be persuaded by a film like Milk. As pessimistic as it sounds, I do not think there is any help for a person that thinks that homosexuals aren't entitled to the same civil rights as other Americans. I'm sick of this whole, "we want to marry, we want to love" crap. That's so not the point. How about this? Homosexuals deserve the right to marry, for WHATEVER reason they choose, the same way that straight people can and do get married for any number of reasons, some beautiful and flowery, some bullshit. The arguments against always start the same. "I have no problem with homosexuals." Bull. Shit. It's a qualifier. I noticed a number of fanboys who enjoyed Neil Patrick Harris in the Harold and Kumar movies. I've heard way too many times than I care to admit, some variation on the sentiment "Neil Patrick Harris is awesome, even if he is gay." As if gay is some kind of malignancy that underwrites all other good qualities. As if gay itself is a possible deal-breaker weighing down an otherwise good person. It's offensive. There is no separate but equal and Milk, both the film and the man make that powerfully clear. This is one of the best films of the year, and is certain to be a best picture nominee and it could bring home the win (knock on wood.) But make no mistake Tony Curtises and Ernest Borgnines of the increasingly irrelevant, dying off old generation of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences. This is a gay film. If you don't like it, then fuck off and go home. I hear Birth of a Nation is on Turner Classic Movies.

Grade: A-

Can the Academy Atone for its Sins?

As I look ahead to this year's schedule of movie releases, Gus Van Sant's biopic of slain openly gay San Francisco city supervisor Harvey Milk titled simply Milk stands head and shoulders atop my list of most anticipated films (I will have a more comprehensive list of my most anticipated films later). The film's cast is looking great on paper—Sean Penn as Harvey Milk (say what you will about the man, the actor is still top notch), Josh Brolin (criminally overlooked in the awards arena this past year for No Country for Old Men) as Milk's murderer Dan White, James Franco as Milk's lover (he was great on Freaks and Geeks...right?), with Emile Hirsch and Diego Luna (soon to be featured right here in my Can We Talk About column) to boot. And then there's Mr. Gus Van Sant himself, who at the very least, creates interesting, if flawed work (we're ignoring Psycho for the moment).

Could Milk be the critical hit of 2008?

It is almost impossible to looking forward to November 2008 and Milk without also looking back at 2005 and Brokeback Mountain. Confession time—I'm still bitter about Brokeback's loss to Crash, even though it happened more than two years ago. This is not simply due to my insistence that Brokeback was far and away the best of the five, certainly not to be unseated by Crash. Let me explain. More often than not, my favorite film of the year is not even nominated for best picture. When films like Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind and Chicago win best picture, sure it sucks, but I can get over it and move on because at least there was some indication leading up to the big night that these films would eventually be crowned. But in the case of Brokeback, where it seemed like the Academy might finally get it right and then decided, with no precedent whatsoever, to go so totally wrong, it felt like an incredible tease. Add to that the fact that Brokeback's loss was likely due to widespread homophobia in the Academy (we've all heard the infamous Tony Curtis quote by now) and you make for one very unhappy blogger.

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Something's off about this equation...I call shenanigans

If Milk comes anywhere close to living up to its expectations, it may very well be where Brokeback Mountain was three years ago—raking up a slew of awards and honors, that is, not necessarily losing the best picture Oscar (more on that later). If the film does poise itself as a serious Oscar contender, I promise that you will hear talk of the Academy simply rewarding Milk as a means of atoning for the Brokeback loss (whether it does end up being the best film of they year or not). It occurred to me that the Academy is just like young Briony in Atonement. I can picture a bitter, homophobic Academy looking on with unease as Brokeback Mountain flirted dangerously close to being the first “gay” film to win the best picture Oscar, much in the same way that Briony spied Robbie and Cecilia by the fountain and eventually in the library. So a lie was told—the lie that Crash was somehow--in some backwards, fucked up universe--a better film, effectively separating Oscar and Brokeback forever. What a lie it was...

"Crash was the best. I know it was. I saw it with my own eyes"

Years later, with more time for contemplation, maybe there are Academy members looking back and saying “Good God, did we really name Crash best picture? And over Brokeback Mountain?!” After Ledger's death a couple months back, you had a sort of collective amnesia as celebrities (many of them Academy members) spoke up to pay homage to Ledger, and by extension, Brokeback Mountain, his most accomplished performance. Kind of makes you wonder where all these people were back in '05/'06 when both Ledger and his film lost that fateful evening, but that's another issue entirely. There's something in me that thinks there must be some Academy members who realize how Brokeback's loss almost rendered the Academy irrelevant in the eyes of many, including myself. How else would you explain them getting best picture right two years in a row (The Departed and No Country for Old Men, respectively) following the Crash debacle. None of this is to say that Crash is a bad film, because it isn't. Far from it, in fact. It is simply a film that cannot stand up under the weight of the title that is “Best Picture.” It is destined to join the ranks of Ordinary People, Out of Africa, Dances With Wolves and Shakespeare in Love—films only discussed in relation to the more superior films that were unseated so that they may take their place, undeserving in the pantheon of Oscar's best pictures.

Where does this leave the Academy three years after the fact? What is to be done about Milk? Well, let me just say that subject matter is not all. SUBJECT MATTER IS NOT ALL. I say this twice because it bears repeating and many Academy members (I'm sure they read this blog in legion) are likely to scratch their head at this sentiment, querying “Wait, so you're saying that films about mentally challenged people, female boxers with inhuman hearts of gold and biopics about anyone famous/beloved and or recently dead aren't inherently better? How are we supposed to come to a consensus about what is best?!” Like I've said, subject matter is not all. If Paul Haggis had created a film that was somehow better than Ang Lee's, then I would certainly have advocated for a Crash upset. After all, I was hoping that Sideways would upset the steamroll that was Million Dollar Baby or the complicated marital strife of In the Bedroom would pull through and knock A Beautiful Mind on its simplistic, reductive ass. If Revolutionary Road or Doubt or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or some film that hasn't even entered mainstream radar happens to be better than Milk, then by all means have at thee. If a film's subject matter, or more specifically a gay-related subject matter, is all it takes for a film to be considered “best” then I would have been rooting for The Birdcage, Breakfast on Pluto and Kinky Boots to be winning Oscars left and right in their respective years. Brokeback Mountain really could have gone either way. Its source material doesn't lend itself particularly well to film adaptation, but the fact remains that it was still the best film of 2005, whether people in the Academy who voted for Crash admit it or not—whether they are, as Briony stated “Very very sorry for the terrible distress [they] have caused.”

"I am very very sorry for the terrible decision I made. Seriously. Crash over Brokeback?!"

So what's my point? My point is that if Milk is the best, it should be rewarded accordingly. But IF it is the best (or even among the best), expect to see some combination of the following three scenarios.

1.) The film is rewarded across the board, ultimately winning the top prize, with several dissenters, bloggers, critics and pundits (most of whom will be conservative) stating that the only reason the film is winning so much is because of guilt over the Brokeback loss and a general bias in “liberal” Hollywood towards pushing the “gay agenda.” Yawn. Can't you just feel it coming and aren't you already bored?

2.) The film is nominated everywhere, but never wins because of all the reasons stated earlier in this article and many other articles profiling the Brokeback loss. Except this time, they have the excuse that “we don't want to make it look like we're simply trying to make up for Brokeback loss” to hide behind, further obscuring the real issue—widespread homophobia in the supposedly liberal Academy, Hollywood and the nation at large. This will make way for another frontrunner to sweep—possibly Frost/Nixon. It is, after all a biopic and we all know how the Academy is long overdue in rewarding biopics...especially those directed by Ron Howard. Except not. And not. Apropos to nothing, I'm hoping that the lukewarm response (as far as awards attention goes) to Ron Howard's post-Oscar-win offerings (Cinderella Man, anyone? No? Yeah, me neither) indicates that they're done with him for the time being. If by some twisted, horrific turn of events, Opie happens to win another Oscar, I swear I will projective vomit.

3.) The film suffers the same fate as Brokeback—perennially rewarded until Oscar night where it's viciously unseated, at which point this blogger will be forced to bid you adieu as I will most likely die of simultaneous shock, embarrassment and disappointment. Shock at the Academy's idiocy, embarrassment for how unashamed they are of the same and disappointment of what such an event says about the country in which I live.

Of course, number 1 is the ideal scenario, but if Briony's final monologue in Atonement taught us nothing else, it's that what's done is done. No amount of fictionalization, apologies (real or imagined) and guilt will put right what is already so wrong. A win for Milk would be great, but make no mistake Academy—there is no atoning for what was done to Brokeback.