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During my viewing of “Detroit,” the latest film directed by Kathryn Bigelow and written by Mark Boal, I reached a breaking point that I wasn’t even aware I had reached. I was so disturbed by what I had witnessed that I burst into tears as I walked out of the theater afterward.
That which got under my skin was not the unrelenting violence inflicted on black bodies or the conflagrated devastation caused by the Detroit riots, but the emptiness that lurked beneath the surface of both of those experiences. Having watched “Detroit,” I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not interested in white people’s perceptions of black pain. White filmmakers, of course, have every right to tell stories that draw attention to the real and imagined histories of racism and police brutality that have a disproportionate impact on Black people in the United States. “The Color Purple” comes to mind as one example of a film by a white filmmaker about a subject that is unique to the black experience that I have found to be moving. Though the film was directed by Steven Spielberg and produced by Quincy Jones, it was based on the novel of the same name by Alice Walker. ‘Detroit’ was created by white creatives who did not understand the significance of the images they focused on with an unwavering gaze. They directed, wrote, produced, shot, and edited the film.
“Detroit” is ultimately a jumbled film with an ugliness that is reflected in both its visual craft and its narrative structure. Bigelow is skilled at making the sharp crack of a police officer’s gun against a black man’s face seem dramatic, but she is clueless when it comes to the meaning of the emotional scars left behind or how they echo through the history of the United States. It has nothing to say about race, the justice system, police brutality, or even the city that gives it its name. “Detroit” is a hollow spectacle that displays rank racism and countless deaths, but it has nothing to say about the city that gives it its title.
As the film progresses, it builds up to an extended sequence based on a true event: a police raid at the Algiers Motel in 1967 Detroit, which resulted in the deaths of three young black men and the beatings of nine other people, two of whom were white. A shakiness pervades the narrative as it begins, painting a picture of the civil unrest and riots that characterized the city of Detroit at the time before dumping the diverse cast of characters into a volatile situation at the Algiers Motel. After the blood has dried and the scars on the survivors’ bodies have begun to heal, the narrative rushes through the investigation, trial, and aftermath of that fateful evening. An ever-increasing reliance on newspaper clippings and actual newsreel footage intended to provide meaning and gravitas only serves to highlight the absence of a thematic center that would lend the film any weight is revealed.
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It has become Bigelow’s life’s work to focus on the particular textures of American masculinity. For this reason, her earlier work, whether it be the sublime and unapologetically silly “Point Break” or the gloriously intense “Near Dark,” is a particular favorite of mine. In light of this background, the superficial understanding of character is particularly noticeable. The film makes a passing reference to the ways in which black and white men are pitted against one another, but it fails to acknowledge the historical context in which this conflict has its roots. Consider the scene in which the two white women, Julie (Hannah Murray) and Karen (Kaitlyn Dever), are discovered hanging out with a black man, played by Anthony Mackie, who has recently been honorably discharged, just as the raid on the motel begins. This takes the film into complex territory about stereotypes of black men, the perceived value of white women, and the fear of white men, all of which the film is ill-equipped to deal with in a meaningful way.
While John Boyega’s performance as Melvin Dismukes, a security guard who accidentally assists the blatantly racist cops and armed forces who are aware of civil rights violations occurring but do nothing to stop them, has received the most attention, his character is far too passive to make much of an impact. Melvin becomes complicit in their horror by upholding his authority as a figure of authority and assisting these white cops in their efforts. Boyega is a charismatic actor, but he delivers a lackluster performance, despite the fact that the script is the more problematic aspect of the film. Mark Boal avoids addressing the question of Melvin’s involvement, but he does leave an intriguing story on the table. Algee Smith emerges as the film’s standout performer, infusing his character with a soulfulness and yearning that grows more heartbreaking as the film progresses. However, even his performance is frequently undermined by the film’s direction.
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Even though there are numerous instances of racism depicted in the film, it is William Poulter’s portrayal of Philip Krauss, a police officer who becomes the Algiers Motel’s ringleader, that is the most sickening. Krauss is a violent individual who is also virulently racist and extremely cunning. He takes pleasure in beating the black men who are aware that he is abusing his power but are powerless to stop him, even as the bodies pile up around him. Despite the fact that Bigelow doesn’t hold back in depicting Krauss’ horror, she also doesn’t go so far as to indict him or the systems that enable men like him to survive.
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Before the film’s release, there was a great deal of outrage when it became clear that black women would play a minor role in the plot. Black women are rarely given the recognition they deserve in films about African-American history. They are marginalized in the film “Detroit.” They are obedient wives who place a gentle hand on their husbands’ shoulders; they are silent spectators in courtrooms; they are sweet motel clerks who have no real significance in the story. In the film, an older black female character delivers dialogue that comes closest to being political commentary: “No way would they do this to white men,” she says angrily to a news reporter looking for a good pull quote.
In reality, “Detroitdisinterest “‘s in black women is the least of its problems, despite the fact that it has spent significant time outside of the Algiers Motel. The film’s lack of soul leaves it feeling grotesque and even a little exploitative in its conclusion. It has been a long-held belief of mine that the way a film is shot can tell you a lot about how well it will treat its black characters. Black skin tones can be a variety of shades, but in this case, they’re often ashen, sickly, and devoid of the complexity that they deserve. Director of photography Barry Ackroyd prefers to work in the pseudo-documentary style, which is characterized by constant jittery, confusing motion. Bigelow and Ackroyd are masters at building tension, and the Algiers Motel incident takes on the tone of a lengthy journey through purgatory as a result. There is such depth and texture to the sweat and blood that drips down the characters’ faces that I could almost smell them wafting out of the screen. When it comes to action, Bigelow is unrivaled, and watching Philip pick off his victims is positively bursting with excitement. This noxiousness is present in the thrills of these scenes, as well as in the extreme close-ups of bruised black bodies because the characters are devoid of any interiority.
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The film’s lack of soul only became apparent to me near the end, when one of the survivors, Larry, is shown singing at a church service in the final scene. The church is important to the black community because it serves as an emblem of both hope and resistance at the same time. However, this scene is shot in the exact same manner as the most disturbing moments at the Algiers Motel. The camera moves in a similar manner to a boxer. It bobs and weaves, never stopping in its perpetual motion. There is an anxious energy and bluntness to Larry’s performance in front of the predominantly black congregation, and it feels out of place.
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After leaving the theater, I overheard a black moviegoer say repeatedly, “This is still happening. ” “This is still taking place.” I only gave him a fleeting glance, but there was a weariness and disappointment in his voice that I recognized in myself. Given how little has changed for black people in America, “Detroit” had the potential to be a valuable, if not a powerful, piece of art that could speak truth to authority. However, it lacks the authenticity required to achieve that status. Bigelow and Boal don’t hold back when it comes to demonstrating how despicable Philip and his cohorts are. However, they do not go so far as to indict them or provide sufficient context for their actions. There are also brief, disconcerting moments in which some white police officers are portrayed in a positive light. At the end of the day, I was left wondering who this film was really intended for. Neither the filmmakers nor the city of Detroit are skilled enough to understand the specifics of blackness or to bring the city of Detroit to life as a secondary character. After all, what’s the point of depicting such gruesome violence if you haven’t got a clue about how that violence came to be, or what it says about a country that hasn’t dealt with the racism that still festers deep within its very soul?
In “Detroit,” an important moment in American history is depicted as a valuable portrait of bloodshed, violence, and importance. The epilogue, which details what happened next for everyone involved and is interspersed with photographs of real-life versions of the characters and the story, makes important social commentary on racism that the filmmakers never quite grasp. Bigelow, Boal, and their collaborators are unable to create a meaningful parallel between this event and the current events that they are mirroring. Watching “Detroit,” I wasn’t expecting to see a period drama, but rather a horror movie. But there is nothing to say about the horror of white filmmakers taking on black history and the violence perpetrated against black bodies with an unwavering eye while saying nothing.
For more personality quizzes check this: The Zookeepers Wife Quiz.
