Milk: It Does A Body (Mind and Spirit) Good.

A review of Milk.

Milk, written by Dustin Lance Black and directed by Gus Van Sant, is a deeply affecting and profoundly moving film. The film itself is not without flaws, but the experience of seeing it was nearly perfect. I can’t recall another movie-going experience when there was such enthusiastic, sustained applause at its conclusion. Milk would be affecting whenever it might be seen, but the synergistic timing of its release in the wake of the passage of Proposition 8 in California heightens its relevance as well as its odds of dominating in the upcoming awards season.

One of the triumphs of Milk is in what it avoids – it could easily have become an aptly-named, self-fulfilling prophecy, “milking” its viewers for their most sentimental, basic feelings of pity. Instead, Milk has churned itself into a beautiful, multi-layered piece, one that forces you to deeply identify at one point or another with someone or something in the film. I know I’ve seen a truly great movie when I am not only moved and entertained by the experience of seeing it, but I also learn something. Perhaps it is my own ignorance of the history of the gay rights movement and of the politics of the ‘70s, but, though I knew the film had its own agenda, I really got a sense of what a struggle it was (and continues to be in much of the world) for gay men and women in the ‘70s to exist, to survive, let alone be accepted.

Milk follows the story of Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), the first openly gay person to be elected to public office in California. After four unsuccessful attempts (and the redistricting of San Francisco) over as many years, Milk and his motley crew of true believers finally accomplish their goal and get Milk elected to the office of Supervisor of the City of San Francisco. But the victory is not without sacrifice, as his single-minded drive ultimately costs Milk his relationship with Scott Smith (James Franco), who the film suggests, is the love of his life. Milk is short on details of Harvey’s life prior to meeting Scott in New York City in the early ‘70s, which is one of my complaints about the film. I appreciate the detail with which Milk depicts his political career through to its tragic end, but, as a biopic, it feels fairly incomplete. While the script is sprinkled with a few lines here and there to give the audience a sense of his family history (i.e., the fact that he was never able to come out to his parents and only came out to his brother after they had passed), it left me wanting to know more, in particular more about what drove his activism.

Milk devotes a great deal of detail, however, to Harvey’s fight to defeat Proposition Six (a California ballot initiative which stated that any public school teacher “advocating, imposing, encouraging or promoting” homosexual activity could be fired) in 1978. The parallels between the battles waged over Proposition Six in 1978 and Proposition Eight in 2008 are truly uncanny. In both cases, the parties seeking to discriminate used reprehensible tactics, invoking fear, and more specifically exploiting children to invoke that fear. Yet, the powerful unity that resulted in the successful defeat of Proposition Six in 1978 versus the failure to vanquish the same spirit of hatred in 2008 made me wonder if perhaps something I believe I read on Andrew Sullivan (of The Atlantic)’s blog (The Daily Dish at andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com) was correct – that acceptance isn’t won by couching it as a civil rights issue, but rather by gay people proudly proclaiming themselves and their commitment to their partners. In that way, more people could overcome their fear and see that the majority of them know a committed gay couple who deserves equal rights and access to marriage just as much as any heterosexual couple.

I shall step down from my soap box and note that I particularly enjoyed the moment when Harvey stepped upon his. There were so many great moments and artistic choices to appreciate about this film. Director Van Sant’s stylistic use of opera worked well at times, and felt a bit over the top at other times. The city of San Francisco itself felt like a vibrant character and the use of historical footage was masterfully interwoven. Sean Penn gave an utterly brilliant performance, making you forget he was Sean Penn and completely inhabiting Milk. James Franco was terrifically understated as Scott, conveying volumes with a slight smirk and a shake of the head, carving out more and more of a distinct identity for Scott as the film progressed. Emile Hirsch’s Cleve Jones was incredibly entertaining. I was a bit concerned by his first scene’s introduction of his character, as it was more caricature than character, but the more we got to know Cleve, his unique energy and voice became apparent. Josh Brolin (as Dan White) and Victor Garber (as Mayor George Moscone) also gave strong, noteworthy performances. The one weak link for me was Diego Luna’s portrayal of Jack Lira. It felt too theatrical and staged, and I needed it to feel a bit more grounded and real in order to connect with what Milk experienced through that relationship. The off-balance nature of the character was so exaggerated that it made me wonder how accurate a portrayal it was.

I was also left wondering whether the tape recording used as a framing device was an artistic invention. The very fact that Milk made me want to know more is, to me, the sign of a successful piece of art. I feel as though I’ve seen this year’s Best Picture winner. While it is true that I have a soft spot in my heart for the biopic genre, I think that the quality of this film combined with its eerie electoral timing makes it a lock. Given the California political landscape, I’d be surprised if Academy members don’t take this opportunity to make a statement of their own. So I urge you to make a statement with your wallets and go see this wonderful film in theaters sooner rather than later.