The latest movie by producer and director Antoine Fuqua (Pittsburgh, 1966), an Afro-American making big budget movies, should have ‘Police Heroes Over The Brink’ as subtitle.
The movie stars Don Cheadle, Ethan Hawke and the aging American Gigolo star, Richard Gere as cops. And Wesley Snipes as a gentleman crook. The movie miserably fails its intentions, (or not!, depending on how racist its intentions really are) because we never feel any connection with the protagonists, no matter what tender emotions or fatherly cares they profess to have. There is no saving grace. One just hates them to the point of utter indifference about their fait and is relieved to see it over with, and watch them die. I seldom hated a movie so much.
There are three troubled policemen and their stories progress separately. At the final, resolution act, there is a suggestion of the threads coming together, because it all happens in one location at the same time; but they are not. The movie does not work, in spite of good acting, because there is a major flaw in the unity of genre. Although realistic in tone, whenever the protagonists show their skills as policemen, they come off as super action heroes. They never fail to see their hulking attackers and shoot without ever missing and never failing to mortally strike their fumbling victims. Who off course, but wholly unrealistically, instantly die like flies.
This is a subtle hint that the evil group is biologically different, thus inferior, as they die like bugs; not like humans. All gangsters are pure black men. There is only one white on white, and one black on white shooting. All the crooks, save one white police man, and pimps and their whores are Blacks. Blacks are emphatically whore mongering, MTV video clips-type of gangster-Blacks, extremely violent and nothing else. So the Blacks and whites too, incessantly shoot these criminal Blacks who are like throw away creatures. As if they were nothing but cheap, target figures in a shooting gallery. Even the Black, Internal Affairs director tries to induce the white policeman protagonist to lie about a shooting incident by portraying the innocent victim, a Black student (who could have been his son), as a drug criminal. Even this Black, police professional does not give a **** about Blacks. Not even if they struggle to get out of the ghetto, to break the cycle.
Like with Fuqua’s King Arthur(2004) movie, produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, I was greatly troubled by the promotion of white supremacy by a Black director. Because Hollywood movies are never, ever colour-blind, but propagate a racist status quo. There was no person of colour in view in King Arthur, there were some in the production staff, and only pale whites play the Woads, who are supposed to be warrior Celtic people who painted themselves blue but were obviously a historical black skinned nation. Only Merlin, their leader appears in a few scenes black skinned, a Golden Mohr, because of his blue and golden body paint. But Kiera Knighley, a Woad, is just white. The Franks look white and Slavic. And no Roman soldier has anything like a tan, or a native dark skin. So Black directors other then Spike Lee, can only swim with the big fish if they deny their blackness and embrace white superiority. This upsets me, and the more so as I foresee European governments preparing yet another holocaust, but this time against European Blacks, Coloureds and Muslims.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) is also very Black oriented, but although his loving but surrogate Black mother, is middle class and an independent entrepreneur, and he visits black churches; he does not act Black, but white. There is a white clockmaker who is blind and subsequently has a half-black wife. Then there is a Black prostitute for Jeremy to sow his wild oats with. There is plenty of satire of Blacks in the way Blacks laugh at themselves, but nothing like a Black identity otherwise then below whites, being colourful and ready to serve whites. This is emphasised by the sophisticated actors presenting themselves as rather ‘commenting’ on the demeaning ‘Fetchitt’ type roles, then just playing these roles. So whites can perceive an Irish or Jewish identity, but not a Black identity, that rejects white supremacy. Buttons remains a white person and in the end there are none of his Black relatives near him, but his patrician, white wife.
The role of director Fuqua is perfectly symbolised by that of Cheadle, the role of a sell out, a cop who is first prepared to set up, to sacrifice his only friend, who has saved his life, but who he had already spied on as an undercover agent. The message is spelled out; for bad or worse: whites are on top and they view Blacks as ‘monkeys’ wallowing in their ‘monkey ****,’ as how police inspector Ellen Barkin put it to Cheadle. The one good cop is white, but suicidal and helplessly flawed, irrationally trying to turn the sweet, Black neighbourhood whore into an (his) honest woman. Yet there is no explanation forthcoming for his extreme unhappiness. She is differently damaged, and cannot even bear the suggestion of such a relation. The movie could have been saved if the third cop story line by Richard Gere was cut, as it is rather puzzling and perfunctory and has no bearing on the two other story lines. And so leaves us a chance to spent more time with the two other cops and be able to discover some humanity, some worthiness in them.
I’m not a racist and I do not hate whites, they are victims of history too, but in order to be white today there seems to be an overwhelming need to feel and express superiority over Blacks. All the time, and everywhere. Even the nicest white person is conditioned never to overstep this law, to never side with Blacks and risk being treated as a Black and a traitor by his fellow whites. And whites always operate from a position of power. One notice this when one wants to have a rational discussion with whites, and how they summarily dismiss any arguments or proof and rather make you feel bad for bringing any of this up. Upsetting them by trying to have them read several passages from all of Jane Austen’s novels that show that all the protagonists are either sallow (light brown), brown, very brown and black in complexion. Even the personal descriptions of Jane Austen as a ‘very brown’ woman causes them great discomfort, embarrassment and agitation because they cannot tell you in your black face that the whole idea of them worshipping a Black woman is just sickening. They hold out for some clever interpretation by one of their clever scholars that this ‘black’ must have a logical, but very different meaning. Mostly because ‘there were no Blacks,’ they say; and most certainly the few were not part of the gentry or nobility. This they also learn from Jane Austen movies with all the brown and black characters played by very ‘pink’ looking, blue-eyed actors and actresses.
The final message of Brooklyn’s Finest is that Blacks can participate and even get promoted to a subaltern position, if they swallow their pride, betray other Blacks and accept inequality as a law of nature. Me, I could not wait to see them all die and leave the cinema, before the shops close, to buy a rutabaga and some pig feet. Yet I felt humiliated and ashamed, among the people shuffling out the cinema, as a creature that one can just kill off, as even its own kind does not consider him worthy, and I prayed for Mr. Fuqua’s soul.
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This is a subtle hint that the evil group is biologically different, thus inferior, as they die like bugs; not like humans. All gangsters are pure black men. There is only one white on white, and one black on white shooting. All the crooks, save one white police man, and pimps and their whores are Blacks. Blacks are emphatically whore mongering, MTV video clips-type of gangster-Blacks, extremely violent and nothing else. So the Blacks and whites too, incessantly shoot these criminal Blacks who are like throw away creatures. As if they were nothing but cheap, target figures in a shooting gallery. Even the Black, Internal Affairs director tries to induce the white policeman protagonist to lie about a shooting incident by portraying the innocent victim, a Black student (who could have been his son), as a drug criminal. Even this Black, police professional does not give a **** about Blacks. Not even if they struggle to get out of the ghetto, to break the cycle.
Like with Fuqua’s King Arthur(2004) movie, produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, I was greatly troubled by the promotion of white supremacy by a Black director.
I guess Steve Sailor has found his solution for the few positive images of blacks in the movies and tv...Hire a black director.
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