Spike Lee, one of the only Black directors to have managed
to build a decades-long career for himself despite a somewhat uneven filmography, is
difficult not to appreciate as an auteur.
His films are built upon inconsistencies in tone, yet can sometimes have
enough raw emotional energy to push through into greatness, such was the case
with Do the Right Thing and School Daze. However, the more recent entries into his
filmography seem unable to recapture that sort of frenetic spirit. His latest entry, Chi-Raq, is perhaps the closest he’s come in the past decade,
making this an enjoyable film if not one of the greats.
Ostensibly a reimagining of the classic Greek play Lysistrata, Chi-Raq takes place in downtown Chicago, a community torn apart by
gang warfare and a police force that chooses to fight violence with apathy and
more violence. The original play saw its
titular character hatching a plan to withhold sex from the men of Sparta in
order to halt their escalation of the Peloponnesian War. Similarly, Chi-Raq’s Lysistrata (Teyonah Parris) sets her aims on halting the
violence of her community, which ultimately becomes a movement around the world
as women proclaim in unison “No peace.
No pussy.”
Adaptation of Greek theater plays heavily into Spike Lee’s
directorial fetishes, as it allows him to stage artificially theatrical
setpieces and develop excuses for characters to deliver speeches directly into
the camera. The performances are great
across the board, from Lysistrata’s leadership to her gang-banger boyfriend, the
titular Chi-Raq, played by a remarkably decent Nick Cannon as a man emotionally
invested in a lifestyle that is destructive to his community. But more than anything, the script, largely
written in rhyming couplets to add gravitas to the speechifying delivery, drips
with fiery passion against the violence of Black poverty and the authoritative
violence that perpetuates it and places innocents and children within the line
of fire. More than anything, this is a
film about the need for unity in tearing down systems of oppression and
recognizing that violence need not be the means by which ends are achieved.
As noble as that message is, though, there are times when
the film’s marriage to the comedic aspects of its source material ineffectually
make the artistry come crashing down.
Spike Lee has a much better grasp on racial politics than he does on sex
and sexuality, and he has even less of a grasp on broad sexual comedy. The recurring joke of the film is that the
men of the world are going crazy from a lack of sexual intercourse, making them
desperate to end Lysistrata’s sexual strike by any means necessary. While thankfully the film never goes into
dark, sexually assaultive territory (as realism isn’t really the point here),
the setpieces meant to exhibit male sexual frustration are awkward and really
just not all that funny. There’s too
much reliance set on the supposed inherent comedy of the situation and no
effort put into actually telling jokes with the premise. This makes the film feel about a half hour
too long with redundancies and dragging moments that feel divorced from the
hopeful message the film wishes to impart.
That said, Chi-Raq
is not an entirely bad film, and the good parts are good enough to justify a
viewing. Spike Lee may not be able to
capture the lightning in the bottle he did with his early career, but Chi-Raq is the closest he’s come in a
long time. Some tighter screenwriting
and a greater focus on what he’s good at would serve him better in the future,
but if he must continue to experiment, this one was at least a worthwhile
venture.
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