The Word: Get 'Milk'

In "Milk," Director Gus Van Sant has presented us with the seemingly impossible: an almost flawless film. I could end this post here, actually, but you might want to know why I'm going out on a limb like this. I will attempt to explain myself.

I say "almost flawless" because my cynical and doubting 21-century brain can't wrap itself around the concept of perfection. But now I've seen a movie that's brilliantly written, directed, acted, filmed, and (gasp!) even researched.

To begin with, Dustin Lance Black's script avoids the odd awkward line, the out-of-character utterance, the things that make you go "Hmmm?" Everything each character says sounds as authentic as if Black had inhabited the character more completely than any "process" actor ever could. Of course, stellar performances such as Sean Penn's could make my grocery list compelling cinema. Even minor characters are portrayed as totally three-dimensional--no stereotypes here. The only performance that left me scratching my head was that of Josh Brolin as the warped and conflicted San Francisco Supervisor Dan White, and my confusion could well be due to the complexity and blatant insanity of the character himself and not the performance. This could be a flaw in the film, or it could be my own personal flaw in that I didn't completely get it.

One thing I did get is the fabulous period detail. While the surviving players in the story were consulted for the script, someone had to go out and find the costumes and decorate the set to reflect with eerie accuracy the hideous 70s. Portraying recent history is harder than you think. Plenty of filmgoers can remember that era well--including me--and it's hard to pull one over on them. That being said, filmmakers are often complacent about recent history and overlook that keen attention to detail that, if ignored, can lead to an error that could threaten the film's credibility and break that viewer's almost magical connection to the film as he or she watches it. (One possible anachronism: I don't recall the term "African-American" being used before Jesse Jackson uttered it in the 80s, but I haven't looked that one up.)

I also love how Van Sant wove film with historic footage--most filmmakers do this awkwardly, but Van Sant, along with the art director, set designer, and costumer, has managed to make the back-and-forth seamless.

But what struck me the most about this film is how timely it is. We think we've come so far, and then California's Proposition 8 slaps us in the face and takes us back to Milk's San Francisco and reminds us that there are still people out there who see homosexuality as a choice, and a sinful one at that. Do you have to know a homosexual to understand that choice plays no part in sexual orientation? If so, I have some news: You know someone. Maybe you are someone. "Milk" shakes you roughly by the shoulders and wakes you up, then strokes your cheek and gives you hope.