I
should warn you, this is much more testimonial than it is a movie review. Really, not many of my posts constitute
movie reviews – I’m not A.O. Scott. I’m
just a Brooklyn cat with a hell of a
lot of opinions. Of course it will be difficult,
if not impossible, to discuss some of the things that were done from a technical
perspective; but this post is more about the timeliness and the emotional
response that was evoked by viewing this very important film by rookie feature
director/writer Ryan Coogler even by a cynic like me.
VITALS
Ryan
Coogler – Writer/Director
Michael
B. Jordan (Chronicle, Red Tails) – Oscar Grant
Octavia
Spencer (Seven Pounds, The Help) – Wanda/Oscar’s mother
Melonie
Diaz (Be Kind Rewind) – Sophina/Oscar’s girlfriend and babymama
And a supporting cast that donated
laudably realistic performances that added to the film’s organic feel,
including Ariana Neal (as Tatiana), Trestin George, Destiny Ekwueme, Kevin
Durand, and Chad Michael Murray.
IF
YOU MUST KNOW:
Here
are the details that are undisputed.
Oscar Grant was a 22 year old black make with a checkered past. He was riding on the Bay Area Rapid Transit
(BART) system after celebrating the New Year with his friends (as so many of us
have done in repeatedly). He was stopped
by the BART police after some sort of altercation on the train. He was face down on the ground and shot in
the back by one of the BART police who claimed that he had mistaken his pistol
for his Taser when he fired a shot into Grant’s back that proved fatal. The officer was tried for 1st
degree murder and found guilty only of involuntary manslaughter. Say what you will about the legal system in
the US being the “best in the world,” but damn if it don’t seem like the consequences
for taking the life of a young black male seem to be pretty insignificant to me
– no wonder we kill each other at such a
high clip.
I’m
just sayin…
Anyway,
this may be THE timeliest film I’ve ever seen.
It is certainly one of the most poignant. While there are things that could have been
better from a writing and performance perspective that would have made this
more compelling, it is far wiser not to take liberties when putting something
like this on the big screen based on actual, non-ancient people with family and
friends still around. Certainly, I could
have done with one or ten less utterances of the word “bruh” from Michael B
Jordan, but maybe that’s how Oscar talked.
I don’t know how cats in the Bay area speak – maybe E-40 is a true and
accurate representative, fo’ shiggadale. Then again, maybe Jordan or Coogler had a few
too many brehs/brush in the dialogue.
Maybe the film could have ended on a less “artsy” note… Tough call. Notwithstanding the minor oddities that
reminded me that this was a movie, I could not help but think that Fruitvale
Station may be the most important movie I’ve seen in a long time. Up next in the list of potential usurpers to
that title is Lee Daniel’s The Butler (as long as he doesn’t go all Precious on
us, it should be a great film, too).
I
couldn’t have been more tempted to tear up during a film - between the still
moment immediately after that shot was fired and the reaction when the doctors
tell the family and friends of Oscar that he’s gone… the verisimilitude was
crazy, man. I saw this film at the
Angelika Theatre (so there are only between 5-8 other brown people in any of
the theatres at any given time) and there were about 2 dry eyes in the house…
maybe 3, assuming the guy I saw with the eye-patch was in the same theater as
me. Seriously, damn near the whole
theatre got more than a little verklempt.
(Trying to keep it light or I’ll get angry… I mean Incredible Hulk style
angry.) This film does a terrific job of being fair and balanced in the anti-Fox News sense of the phrase. That makes it that much more impressive.
There’s
no way I fail to add this film to my DVD collection when it hits the
stores. You really should find your way
to seeing this film at some point in your life.
In the theatre, on-demand, streaming, on DVD or digital download. Cop this.
ImTHATdude gives
Fruitvale Station: 5
RATING
SYSTEM:
5
= You should be about halfway to the theatre by now… Well… GET!
4 = Definitely worth the bread. Niiice.
3 = I won’t cuss anybody out and demand my paper back.
2 = Somewhere SOUTH of under-whelmed./I know it has a pulse, but…
1 = Not a good look. They played me AND I played myself.
Here are my Resolutions for 2014:
I always love putting this list together. It's fun to see what my friends are listening to but it is also a cool reminder of how kick-a$$ and different they are. Love my friends. They rock.
The nerve of this
clown, Peter "PJ" Jackson. I sat through 161 minutes
of dwarves in barrels and elves with arrows, only to find out that Smaug was barely
in the flick. Oh, they talked about
Smaug, but that big bastard literally (in
that Rob Lowe “Parks & Rec” voice) slept through the first ¾ of the film –
and I should have followed his example.
I was actually jealous of a fictional dragon because he got to sleep
through this joint and I bet he didn’t pay 18 bucks for it.
A blatant overabundance of wretched excess.
Drug abuse and drug addled behavior.
Sexual depravity. Overindulgence
of everything under the sun. This is why ‘they’ hate us. The Wolf of Wall Street was over the top
in every possible category, including the run time and Leo’s pop-locking. You almost get the sense that Marty and Leo may have been a little bit too close to the material when they filmed this, nahmean? I kid/I joke. Sorta... Put it this way, the profanity in the opening
scene has nothing to do with what was said. Forever seared in my mental rolodex is the indelible
image of a normal straw being misused in two of the wrong orifices- it’s filed
under “CRAP I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO UNSEE.” 
I
should warn you, this is much more testimonial than it is a movie review. Really, not many of my posts constitute
movie reviews – I’m not A.O. Scott. I’m
just a Brooklyn cat with a hell of a
lot of opinions. Of course it will be difficult,
if not impossible, to discuss some of the things that were done from a technical
perspective; but this post is more about the timeliness and the emotional
response that was evoked by viewing this very important film by rookie feature
director/writer Ryan Coogler even by a cynic like me.
Trayvon’s
death is a tragedy. But I hope that Latinos can use this as the
opportunity to truly engage in a conversation on race. 
Honestly, I didn’t listen to J. Cole’s debut album, Cole World. Oh, I’m a fan of his, many would argue, classic mixtapes (as classic as a mixtape could be): The Come Up, The Warm Up, and Friday Night Lights.
But none of the singles from his album moved, touched, or inspired me
like so many of his previous tracks. In fact, his songs were too
structured and felt soulless; so, I decided to skip the album all
together. I didn’t even download it; I didn’t want to hear him flop
after falling off.
Once
again, Jay-Z sets a new bar (not lyrically, but maybe sonically or
financially: platinum before the album dropped, never done before) with
his latest offering Magna Carta Holy Grail. Don’t believe me, pay
attention to the black bar through his name and on the artistically
statuesque cover, no coincidence. Additionally, the title of the album
proclaims a new set of rules will be established, a la Magna Carta,
while people search for their Holy grail (cue Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci
Code). 
It’s not that Superman 3 (minus
a couple classic Richard Pryor lines) and 4 and Superman Returns all sucked hairy…
rocks, it’s just that they were really not good; the latter not as much as the others,
but Superman Returns was silly. How Superman pickup a whole island of
kryptonite? KRYPTONITE! And Kevin Spacey as Lex Luthor sounded like
brilliance, but turned out as well as Russell Crowe singing show tunes (Les
Miserable performance, from what I heard). I was a legit fan.
There’s a reason some people have referred to me as Black Seinfeld. I
even named my old crib the Fortress of Solitude – for so many reasons - too
many to go into now. (Now, I just call my place my “Lair.”)
When “Yeezus” first sprang a leak, the internets rushed and gulped it
down. Forwarded emails, containing various links to wet transfer and
other file sharing sites, were excitedly opened to hear the new Yeezy
“Yeezus.” Like many, I downloaded it, but I didn’t listen. Nope.
Instead, I went to Twitter, the source of all news and tomfoolery, and
looked at the up to date reviews of the barely five minute old
unofficial release. And the good folks of Twitter-verse lambasted
Yeezus, throwing stone after rock towards this ten-track opus. These
one listen reviews were funny as many proclaimed that Yeezy finally
missed, ruining his streak of classic albums. As a result, naming Yeezus
the official weed plate (though at the time, no one had a physical copy
of the album) of the summer. 
