Milk stars Sean Penn as gay activist turned politician Harvey Milk. Milk was the first openly gay elected official in the United States. His activism was born out of necessity after opening a business in San Francisco. Hard as it is to imagine, there was a time when San Francisco wasn’t the gay-friendly Mecca that it is today. And Milk was an instrumental part of that change in attitude. After meeting resistance from other local merchants, Milk decided that the best way to win over homophobic business owners was to show the economic clout of the gay community. However, he illustrated their importance not just by boycotting the unfriendly stores but also by loyally frequenting the stores that welcomed their business. Once business owners saw the economic potential of the community, they were much more accommodating.
Directed by Gus Van Sant, Milk is a masterfully crafted, but slow paced, bio-pic. Van Sant makes wonderful usage of actual period footage and a framing device of Milk leaving a recorded will and testament (which is true) to set the scene. The movie moves back and forth seamlessly between archival footage and that of the actors. I’m sure much of this storytelling device was necessitated by the gentrification of San Francisco in general and The Castro (a predominantly gay neighborhood) specifically. Regardless of the reason, the end result of the footage is to give the film a You Are There feel typically reserved for documentaries. Unfortunately, the movie’s first half gets bogged down in Milk’s multiple failed attempts for public office. Parts of the movie are fascinating: the gay community banding together to protect themselves from the police, watching the “established” gay leaders distancing themselves from Milk and his “uppity” crew, watching Milk figure out how to work the system. But much of the first half is as interesting as watching any non-gay man run for a seat as a councilman, which is to say, not very interesting at all.
The film picks-up considerably once Milk is elected to office. Watching his rise to power is fascinating. Equally fascinating is watching him become so adroit at the political machinations at which he was once so ham-handedly opposed. The second half of the film is consumed largely by Milk’s fight against the Proposition 6 aka The Briggs Initiative, a ballot measure designed to prevent homosexuals from teaching in public schools. Milk, frustrated with his compatriots’ apprehension at attacking the measure head-on, mounts his own campaign against the proposal. Milk’s organizational skills were legendary and are featured prominently in the film. He had the ability to muster a crowd of thousands on a moment’s notice. Of course, what the film fails to mention is that he often did this with the help of another charismatic San Francisco community activist by the name of Jim Jones.
Penn’s performance at times borders on over acting but Milk was truly a larger-than-life figure. For those unfamiliar with the actual Milk, Penn might appear over-the-top at times. But the afore mentioned framing device of Milk recording his last will and testament serves the dual purpose of affording Penn the opportunity to show a more subdued side and allows Milk to serve as the story’s narrator from beyond the grave.
Milk’s eventual assassin, Dan White, is played by Josh Brolin. The movie portrays White as a more of a tragic figure than an outright villain. And while it’s remarkably gracious of the filmmakers to show the man’s complexities, his depiction as right-wing, Christian, possibly closeted homosexual isn’t entirely accurate. White, a former cop turned firefighter turned elected official, was far from a right wing zealot. In real life he supported numerous gay-friendly measures. He voted to save the Pride Center (a sort of gay VFW Hall) and for a resolution honoring the 25th anniversary of a local lesbian couple. He even initially voted for the Gay Rights Ordinance, Milk’s centerpiece legislation that would protect San Franciscans from losing their jobs based on their sexuality. He only voted against the bill after Milk had (in White’s opinion) abandoned him on pet project of his own. He even donated money to Milk’s campaign against the Briggs Initiative. The problem with the inaccurate depiction isn’t so much that we might misunderstand a double-murder, but that by misrepresenting his apparent motivation the filmmakers are fostering a sort of implied guilt by association with unaffiliated parties. While the religious right and the gay community are certainly not friends, there doesn’t appear to be an actual link between Dan White and that movement. Connecting the two erroneously does a disservice to both groups.
However, Brolin’s performance is surprisingly moving given that he’s the heavy. While I think the movie somewhat misrepresented White’s motivation, they didn’t do it at the expense of a well-drawn character. White isn’t portrayed as the mustache-twirling, cartoony villain he could have so easily been turned into. He’s painted not as vitriolic homophobe but as man that felt betrayed by Milk. He’s less of demagogue and more of a wounded child. His horrendous acts aren’t as much a political statement as they are a temper tantrum. Brolin plays him as the kid excluded from the “cool clique.” You can see he respects Milk and longs to be a part of their club. Whether that longing is sexual or platonic is never really revealed (though the movie hints at that former). While there is no evidence in real life as to White questioning his sexuality, his initial respect of and search for friendship with Milk is agreed upon by all parties. Brolin drives home the tragic nature of the character.
Milk really captures the feel of its time. Van Sant’s mixed use of actual period footage in combination with that of his own creates an immersive affect. This combined with stellar performances from Sean Penn & Josh Brolin, make an intriguing but flawed snapshot of a captivating period in our not-too-distant past.
On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being Philadelphia and 1 being I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry, Milk, gets a 7.
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