Do The Right Thing-Spike Lee

Spike Lee and his library of work, to me, has always fit in snug amongst a slew of other directors that have widespread acclaim, pack a murderer's row of talent in their films, and seem to be regaled universally by their peers—every factor of which I doubt I will ever understand the reasoning behind.

This strange category includes Woody Allen, Ari Aster, Wes Anderson, M. Night Shyamalan, and Spike Lee. Every single one of which I consider to be outrageously overrated.

I suppose you could add Kevin Smith's name to that list as well, as, of his films, the only one I like is Clerks. But, unlike the aforementioned, at least his other titles are somewhat palatable. Barely. But palatable nonetheless.

The following words aren't written for shock value, but are merely genuine to how I feel, and I am sincere in saying that I never found Woody's films to be humorous, consider everything that Ari makes total garbage, Wes Anderson's characters written and directed as lithium zombies, M. Night to be riding well beyond the treads of one single blockbuster released over two decades ago, and Spike Lee's films to be nothing more than bitter vignettes with discordant jazz playing in the background.

Being a hip hop head, I know it's considered borderline sacrilege to say anything negative about "Do The Right Thing", but make no bones about it, just like everything else Spike Lee directs, this movie suck's, in about every aspect.

There is no flow from one scene to the next. Only chopped up vignettes where lunatic characters sputter obscenities over one another, drink beer, loaf, and get into everyone else's business. But, then again, maybe that was the way neighborhoods were in old New York. I know my street growing up had a sense of community that seems to have dissolved in the digital age along with Compact Discs and Payphones. But I highly doubt Spike's brush to be painting with any semblance of accuracy. Every single neighbor seems like they are freshly released from Bellevue and were dumped on this little block to eat pizza and argue. The persistent tension, shouting, arguing reminds me a little of this last (and lost) season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, where, much like Do The Right Thing, it reaches for authentic and spontaneous dialogue and realistic scenarios where the main characters have no other choice but to react in a blow-up, but instead turns out to be contrived lunacy where multi-layered "Fuck you's!" "Fuck that's!" "Oh, fuck this's!" are peppered into the air and we're supposed to believe that this is how normal everyday people function.

Get real.

Not to mention, much like Aster identically recreates the grieving mother at the tombstone in Hereditary with Florence Pugh on the couch in Midsommar, Spike recycles the same scene with that fourth wall garbage where characters vomit racial epithets into the camera. Granted, this is the first instance. But it is almost recreated verbatim in 25th Hour when Edward Norton curses the world in the bathroom mirror. Which I consider to be a mark of a poor craftsmanship, and much like time-thefting Mookie, lazy film making.

What bothers me above all of the other things about Spike Lee's films is the discordant jazz music that always hums in the background like an out of tune instrument. None of it ever fits the scene being played out and is just flat out annoying. He does this same shit in Clockers when Mekhi Phifer and Harvey Keitel exchange dialogue with the revolving camera. It drove me nuts then and does so ever more in Do The Right Thing. It's like a needle being screeched across a blackboard.

I know this film is championed as being the defining moment in film history where hip hop and social justice came together to shed the light on societal ills. But I hated it. And prefer much superior products of delivery from directors that dwarf(ed) Spike Lee in the cinescope arena (John Singleton, The Hughes Brothers, Ernest Dickerson, Cord Jefferson). I know Ernest was a pupil of Spikes, and had a hand in creating Do The Right Thing, but so far as I am concerned I feel as if he carried the torch to far greater distances than Spike.

Much like everything Spike creates, this was nothing more to me than incoherent, embittered art house shit. And if this was some sort of love note to Bedstuy, be sure to put a stamp on the envelope that says return to sender.

Stars: 1/2*

Verdict: Pass

Cousins: A Bronx Tale, Juice, Sleepers, The Basketball Diaries, Clockers, Carlito's Way