There are a lot of films I admire intellectually, because they’re well-written, tightly-directed, exceptionally-acted, vividly photographed and designed, impressively scored. Then there are those films that I’ve connected with emotionally, but which “serious” filmgoers would thumb their well-educated noses at (yes, I am an unabashed The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert as well as sing-along Sound of Music fan, so sue me!). I experience a double-whammy with some films- being profoundly touched both in my head and in my heart. Then there’s that rare, transcendent film, which resonates and moves me at so many levels- intellectually, emotionally, contextually, experientially, that it’s almost impossible to describe my reactions to it. Gus Van Sant’s stunning film, Milk, definitely one of the best films of this movie-going year, is one of those kinds of cinematic experiences. It is solidly-directed, clearly and passionately written, wonderfully performed, with a legendary, immersive performance by Sean Penn at its core. But more importantly, it is a film that reminds us of the long, gruelling, sometimes violent history of gay rights in this country, but also provides relevant reverberations for our contemporary times, a time when many people who voted for a President promising change also voted for a very obviously and inherently discriminatory Proposition 8. Unlike Brokeback Mountain, the last strongly resonant filmic experience I had, which, in my opinion, actually had very clearly articulated universal themes, Milk is clearly, aptly, determinedly, and unapologetically about the gay experience, and it’s a film that won’t, that can’t, be shrugged away.
Dec 03
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