Selma

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Ava DuVernay/Starring: David Oyelowo, Carmen Ejogo, Tom Wilkinson, Giovanni Ribisi, Wendell Pierce, Dylan Baker, Tim Roth, Cuba Gooding Jr., Oprah Winfrey and Martin Sheen

It seems no matter how many times we see the historic Selma to Montgomery march depicted in movies or documentaries, it never fails to stir and inspire wonder. That so many were willing to risk their lives to right a wrong and so many were willing to kill to preserve the unjust status quo leaves one with a sense of awe. We've seen many demonstrations and marches since then in this country, but so few have had as much at stake as the Selma to Montgomery march Martin Luther King Jr. led in 1965.

What distinguishes this film from others on this subject? For one, none of them had the ferociously talented actor David Oyelowo in the role of King himself and none had a female African-American in the director's seat. But DuVernay's film is distinctive in other ways, for it dramatizes Dr. King's opposition quite poignantly and shows us a powerful leader who wasn't infallible.

DuVernay shows us widespread, systemic racism; political bodies that permitted the flagrant disenfranchisement of blacks, particularly in the south.

Contrasting scenes open the film; in one, we see Dr. King preparing to receive his Nobel Peace Prize award; fussing with his fancy tie while his wife Coretta (the lovely and talented Carmen Ejogo) listens to her husband talk about how his fancy suit might be regarded with suspicion back home. In the other scene, we see young black girls in their Sunday best, descending church stairs. As they chatter innocently about hair styles, a shocking bomb blast not only obliterates the church but takes the lives of the little girls. We see their dead bodies amid the rubble and ruin that was once their house of worship.

The beginning is very effective; we see the world honor an American black Reverend while in another part of the world, an oppressive, white culture metes out violent aggression against black children. The act of brutality is a powerful reminder of the virulent anti-black sentiment that gripped the south in the 20th century and how determined local and state governments were to deny blacks even basic rights, such as the right to vote.

It was voting issue that was foremost on Dr. King's mind as he and his fellow activists hatched a plan to protest the denial of black voting rights in the south. In a scene where Dr. King and President Lyndon Johnson (an excellent Tom Wilkinson) discuss the issue, Dr. King is reminded that the right to vote is law though he is quick to remind Johnson in turn how that right is flouted by southern white-dominated governments.

As the idea of marching from Selma, Alabama to the capitol in Montgomery develops, we see what King and his followers faced as Johnson dithered, FBI Director and Dr. King opponent J. Edgar Hoover (Dylan Baker) tapped civil rights activists phones and monitored their activities (with Johnson's consent), and Alabama Governor George Wallace (Tim Roth) brainstormed with his aides on how to thwart both voting rights and black activism in his state.

We also see some dissension among black leaders about how best to demonstrate; knowing every protest invites violence and murder.

I found DuVernay's King to be refreshingly human and anti-hagiographic. Though we see Dr. King's impressive attributes; eloquence, diplomacy, restraint in the face of violence, fierce determination, and compassion; we also learn something about his infidelities. In a scene where Dr. King and Coretta listen to an FBI-crafted tape recording intended to intimidate and humiliate the Reverend, we hear what is supposed to be one of his numerous affairs in progress. Though King denies the affair, Coretta knows better; she realizes she can only salve her wounded pride by eliciting a vow that he isn't emotionally involved with the other women.

The scenes between Dr. King and Johnson are also illuminating. Though Johnson did support civil rights legislation, he also resisted the Reverend's frequent pleas more vigorous action. I really liked Wilkinson and Oyelowo in the White House scenes; both actors are compelling as the exchanges between Johnson and Dr. King become increasingly heated and tense.

The early marches without Dr. King prove to be violent. The first march is halted at the Edmund Pettus Bridge; demonstrators are chased, beaten and shot and in a subsequent, ill-advised march where the press was absent, protestors were again beaten and at least one murdered. Dr. King organizes a another march from Selma to Montgomery but halts the procession on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. In a subsequent scene, he explains the halt as a safety measure, citing the authority's ability to cut off the group from support if the bridge is crossed.

Meanwhile, the televised news broadcasts of the first march causes widespread outrage, galvanizing more people, black and white, to join Dr. King's third march, to which both Wallace and Johnson are vehemently opposed.

The climax of the film is the last march and it is interesting to see how many whites and clergyman joined the procession. Some whites, including a Boston priest, lost their lives in the marches. One woman was murdered by Klansmen when driving a car full of protestors afterward.

Throughout the film, we see subtitles unfold across the screen, which give us documented details of Dr. King and his group's activities, culled from FBI surveillance. The information establishes historical fact but also alerts us to the ubiquitous, Big Brother-like monitoring Dr. King and his associates were subject to.

I found much of the film moving. DuVernay wields a camera skillfully; she doesn't get in the way of the story or get cute with elaborate camera angles that might call attention to themselves and which might distract us from the story.
The dialogue was fine but sometimes it seemed a little too self-aware, as if the characters were declaiming on a stage rather than conversing in the real world.

I think Selma is one of the better films I've seen on the 1960s' Civil Rights struggles. Without sacrificing dramatic credibility, it reaches for historical accuracy and shows us a President who hardly wore a halo and a towering historical figure who was hardly blemish-less.

The rash of police brutality in the U.S. in the past year, where the victims were all black, lend DuVernay's film sociopolitical relevance. So much was accomplished in the march on Montgomery, but recent news events tell us we haven't entirely shed the racist skin that was more firmly entrenched back in 1965.

I don't know if Selma is a great film. You might ask me about it in six months. But for now, I think it has power and superb acting and it gives one of the most explosive events in American history the respect it deserves without rendering it an abstract, stately, marble mausoleum of holy icons and one dimensional antagonists.

No matter what one might think of the film, David Oyelowo's brilliance seems axiomatic. I hope Hollywood has the good sense to give this guy more, challenging material.

The Hundred-Foot Journey

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Lasse Hallstrom/Starring: Helen Mirren, Om Puri, Manish Dayal and Charlotte Le Bon

I have to admit; when I first watched the trailer for Lasse Hallstrom's film, I winced like I just tasted an excruciatingly sweet slice of cake topped by treacle, powdered sugar and mashed gummy bear gravy. I thought geez, all the sweets in Willy Wonka's factory seem postively bitter next to producers Oprah Winfrey and Steven Spielberg's joint cinematic confection.

I could the understand the duo adapting author Richard C. Morais' novel, which might appeal to their occasional taste for fluff. It even made sense for them to hire the writer to co-adapt his novel. I could even understand the two producers recruiting Hallstrom, who is no stranger to light as a whisper cinema (Chocolat) but I was downright mystified by their choice to co-adapt the novel: Steven Knight. If that name faintly rings a bell, it's because said co-screenwriter is none other than the writer-director of the darkly offbeat Locke, which briefly flickered on movie screens sometime back in the spring. Whatever inspired an unlikely choice like Knight can probably be attributed to the smarts that have made Winfrey and Spielberg colossi in the entertainment world.

Believe me when I tell you, I came to the film bearing fangs and wielding sharp objects, expecting to slice and rend flesh. I expected to slash the film as a Great White tears surfers with its lethally-sharp rows of dental death. Not only did I expect to loathe the film, I wanted to detest and abominate it too.

But to my surprise, the film slowly disarmed me; overcoming me with its seductive and irresistible (and I don't use that word casually) charm. I was lulled into what felt like a sweet stupor, as if I had toked an opium pipe in the theater.

The story of a restaurant-owning, Indian family who are forced to flee their Mumbai home and their country for the politically safe environs of Europe seems more like the overture to something provocative and tragic. But as the tight-knit family wanders the European continent, a harrowing incident involving failed brakes leads them to a beautiful French village, one almost improbably so. By avoiding death by failed brakes, the family makes the acquaintance of a stunning, young woman named Marguerite (an almost impossibly lovely Charlotte Le Bon) who just happens to work as a sous chef in an exceptional village restaurant. The Indian father (a terrific Om Puri) is immediately taken by the idyllic surroundings, while his son Hassan (Manish Dayal) is taken by Marguerite's beauty.

Marguerite offers the family a place to stay for the night, which the itinerant family eagerly accepts. While resting from their travels, Marguerite offers them a plate of bread, cheeses and vegetables, all lovingly spread and all delicious.

While wandering through the village the next day, the father sees what looks like a house sitting directly across the street from a renowned French restaurant. Undaunted by the restaurant's presence, the father envisions setting up his own in the vacant property; a place much like the one the family lost when they were forced to flee their homeland. The family is skeptical about the father's plan but knowing Hassan is a superb cook, they go along with the idea.

The father's restaurant venture doesn't go unnoticed by Madame Mallory, the snobby owner of the restaurant across the street, who watches through her curtains as the family slowly transforms their newly acquired property into an Indian restaurant called Maisson Mumbai. She regards the restaurant and the food with something akin to contempt. While crossing the street one day to turn off the loud music, Madame Mallory crosses verbal sabers with the father, which leads to expressions of mutual disdain for their respective cuisines. As a romance between Marguerite and Hassan begins to flicker, the relationship creates a conflict of interest, as the young woman is on Madame Mallory's staff.

A viewer would have to have the intellect of one of the sea anemones Hassan enjoys to not know the story's course or to not know the character vectors. But a few unexpected suprises arise in the story, like Madame Mallory recognizing Hassan's superlative cooking talent and taking him under her wing. This development seems very improbable but to quibble over realism in a movie like The Hundred Foot Journey is like demanding scientific proof for Glenda the Good Witch's magic.
One can also see the obvious conflict that will arise when Marguerite's culinary aspirations are suddenly thwarted by the appointment of Hassan to the head chef position on Madame's staff.

As the father works to establish his restaurant's viability, Madame Mallory's dream of earning stars for her restaurant in the prestigious Michelin guide dovetails with her desire to hire Hassan as her head chef--a move vigorously opposed by the father.

As all these dramas play out to a predictable end, Hallstrom gives us something intoxicating to behold. Linus Sandgren, the director of photography on American Hustle, paints the French countryside with a colorful radiance, both blissful and edenic. I also don't know that I've seen Paris captured so rapturously since the water-skiing-on-the-Seine scene in Leo Carax's Lovers on the Bridge.

I can rhapsodize as much for the performances. No matter how often one marvels at Helen Mirren's acting, she continues to enchant and beguile. As does Om Puri, whose presence provides the perfect counterweight to Mirren. Much of the film's charms can be credited to these two fine actors. Manish Dayal and Charlotte Le Bon are the pleasing eye-candy who generate some romantic heat.

The Hundred-Foot Journey is the fourth film I've seen this year with a strong food theme. In The Lunchbox, food is a kind of a galvanizing agent; in Chef; a means to repair a relationship; in Le Chef a way out of obscurity and the commonplace and in Hallstrom's film; it is a a culinary treaty between cultures. Nothing profound but for this frothiness, it works.

I was somewhat annoyed by the film's tacit view that French cuisine is superior to that of India's. I'm sure the curries and spices in Indian food predate France's existence by more than a millenium, so why the condescension? Does it not take as much passion to make a great curry as a great sauce? Maybe most food critics and foodies would find my rhetorical questions naive.

Is The Hundred-Foot Journey a great film? Hardly. Is it an artistic success? Don't think so. Well, what is it? It's fun, it's heady and it's charming. It's all a fairy-tale, to be sure, with only a tenuous, connective thread to the real world, but I found it futile to resist. If anyone claims the film is something more, tell them they're full of cheese. And if they ask what kind, tell them the French have 629 varieties from which to choose, so take your pick. For me, the film was a good cheddar, because like the French, I too enjoy a little cheese.