Selma

Tonight I saw Selma, starring David Oyelowo and Carmen Ejogo.

The year is 1965 and a team of activists, led my Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., are planning a march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama to fight for their right to vote. The Civil Rights movement is brimming with electricity and the South is having none of it.

In this film, we see Dr. King (Oyelowo) like we never have before: vulnerable, hesitant, guilty—even remorseful. He's still the hero we all recognize, but here, Director Ava DuVernay shows him for the human he was. Imperfect, troubled, brilliant and thoughtful. Oyelowo resembles him so much that each frame of the movie feels like one more step into a time machine. One that reminds us even the greatest of men have their flaws.

His wife Coretta (Ejogo) is also refreshingly real, taking her husband to task for his alleged infidelity, and expressing her (prophetic) fears about his certain death. She's quiet and stoic, but definitely no pushover.

And the film isn't just about the Kings; it's about so much more. It's about everyday people who fought for justice in a time of horrible racial tension. It's about overcoming ignorance. It's about coming to the end of one's collective tether. It's about righting decades of wrongs. It's about growing an America we can all be proud of, someday.

The film filled me with such rage, I only wish I'd been alive at the time to march alongside the group (I would be born 10 years later, unfortunately). Today's demonstrations, which are sadly still necessary, just don't seem to possess the same conviction these noble Americans had.

Our present day protesters don't have the organization, the discipline, the strength of spirit that those in the 60s worked so hard to perfect. Instead, the core good people that mobilize for change now are overshadowed by the directionless, needy idiots who only want to be sure their mug makes it to social media.

Everyone should see Selma. If not for the history lesson, than for the reminder that justice is worth the fight at any cost.

And we still have so far to go.

~~~

Forrest Gump

This morning I saw Forrest Gump, starring Tom Hanks and Robin Wright.

The 20th anniversary presentation in IMAX showcases the classic in better-than-ever visual clarity and sound. And somehow I thought my multiple viewings of the film these past two decades would make me immune from the obligatory flow of tears that always accompanies it, but I was mistaken.

The triggers for me are the same as they always have been (SPOILERS):  Forrest can't find a seat on the bus; the kids throw rocks at young Forrest; Jenny says goodbye to Forrest in Memphis; Mama's sick; Lieutenant Dan arrives at the wedding; Forrest talks to Jenny under the tree; little Forrest boards the school bus.

I can still smell the stale room in gritty New York before the New Year. I can still feel the heavy Southern air as Jenny and Forrest dance to "Sweet Home Alabama." I can remember the fear in the world as John Lennon and President Reagan were shot (those historical parts of the story I'm actually old enough to remember).

I grieve for those who lost soldiers in Vietnam; for anyone who was abused by a parent or a school bully; for everyone who has felt that they are not adequate; for children who miss their mothers; for years lost with a romantic love; for all who were lost to AIDS before we knew how to treat it.

For a movie that is so often lighthearted and funny, it really can wreck you.

It wrecked me today as harshly as it did when I saw it as a college student in 1994. And I'm okay with that—it's simply my primal response to the genius of Robert Zemeckis and Tom Hanks and Robin Wright and tragic music by Alan Silvestri.

Regardless of what the haters might say, it still holds up.

~~~