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There's a lot to be considered about <I>Do the Right Thing</I>, and I intend to devote more thought to it. These are just my knee-jerk reactions.

Between the font used in the opening credits, Samuel L. Jackson, and then Miguel Sandoval, I couldn't help but to think of <I>Jurassic Park</I> throughout the movie. They'd make for an interesting double feature, really, with Ian Malcolm looking on in approval as Sal's burns to the ground.

The cast is terrific. Here I give a special acknowledgment of Giancarlo Esposito. Buggin' Out is the kind of character - and person, for that matter - who grates on my nerves, but Esposito played it so straight that it didn't feel like a put-on the way a lot of such performances usually do. Offhand, the only peer I could cite would be Stephen Lang's infuriating turn as Ike Clanton in <I>Tombstone</I>.

The first three-quarters of the film are so relatively lighthearted that even though it's apparent from the outset that tensions are going to escalate into something out of hand, I was still startled by the severity of the riot. It's a reminder that a smaller scale often has greater impact. It's ultimately just one contiguous fight scene involving several people, with a few minutes of on-screen vandalism, but it was far more affecting to watch than, say, the wanton destruction of half of Metropolis in <I>Man of Steel</I>.

I also give Spike Lee credit for giving us lots of reasons <I>not</I> to sympathize with anyone. Pino (John Turturro) is easily the least likable character in the film, but even Mookie (Lee), our point-of-view guy, is clearly too irresponsible to be an employee at a local pizza place, much less to be a father to young Hector. Here's a guy who's told there'll always be a place for him at Sal's, ignites the riot by throwing the garbage can through the window...and has the temerity to then demand his pay for the week! We hear from both his sister Jade (Joie Lee) and his girlfriend Tina (Rosie Perez) about how he doesn't actually stay at work, <I>or</I> come around to spend time with his son.

It would have been easy to have made Mookie a more traditional protagonist, but by imbuing him with these glaring character flaws, Lee gives us both a character and, by extension, a film that has depth. There are things to like about the guy. So many, in fact, that it's heartbreaking that he's the one who smashes Sal's window. I really wanted him to be the one to reinforce Da Mayor's appeal for the crowd to disperse. I hoped he was going to use the garbage can to stand on and address everyone, to be the voice of calm.

Beyond that, I appreciated that Lee set at the epicenter of the violence two of the three most antagonistic characters in the whole picture. They don't just get on Sal's nerves; Sweet Dick Willie (Robin Harris) is just as irked by Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn) as Sal. Only Radio will entertain Buggin's boycott; everyone else thinks it's ridiculous and petty.

Of <I>course</I> these would be the two guys to instigate something. And all for what? Complaining about a business owner's choice of celebrity photos to display and his ban on boomboxes? These aren't even subjects that most of society considers up for debate, much less a boycott-worthy offense. That's why it's so perfect. Lee spreads around the blame, making sure we have reasons to hold just about everyone at fault at least indirectly for what happens.

I imagine Huey Freeman shouting at everyone, "... And stop the damn dancing! Act like you've got some goddamn sense, people! Damn! I'm through playing around here!" (see: "The Trial of Robert Kelly"). Lee gets us to the point we want, expect, and even need for someone to be that voice of reason. He lets Da Mayor try, but doesn't let him succeed. It <I>is</I> upsetting, which is of course the whole point.

<B><I>Do the Right Thing</I> entered my Flickchart at #236/1576</B>

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In his essay for The Criterion Collection, <a href=http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/621-two-lane-blacktop-slow-ride><I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I>: Slow Ride</a>, Kent Jones summarizes:

<blockquote>This movie about a cross-country race between a car freak in a lovingly souped-up ’55 Chevy and a fantasist in a store-bought GTO moves at an even, gliding pace, and it’s all about stopping to gas up, eat, make some bread in local quarter-mile drag races, pick up hitchhikers, let the engine breathe, share a drink.</blockquote>

Much of Jones's praise for the film falls somewhere between hyperbole and aggressive marketing, but he's spot-on about how it's "the least romantic road movie imaginable". Director Monte Hellman, he tells us, saw it as a romantic film anyway and I'd agree with that characterization. Most road trip films glamorize the open road, presenting it as a sort of magical place all its own where fascinating people go to find grand adventures, playing lots of energetic music and occasionally stopping for sex. <I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I> knows that's not true of most actual road trips, though, and gives us instead the tedium of cross-country driving.

Edgar Wright <a href=http://www.criterion.com/explore/161-edgar-wright-s-top-10>confessed</a>, "It’s probably not cool to admit you don’t quite get a cult movie. But it’s probably better than trying to act cool by pretending you really dig a movie that you don’t fully understand." I can't claim to fully understand every nuance of the film, but I do feel that I get it. We hear "It's about the journey, not the destination". That annoys me in large part because it's trite and often used by people trying to sound poignant, but for certain travelers, the journey <I>is</I> its own world to be visited. I'm such a traveler. I mean that in the literal sense and not the pretentious, metaphorical sense.

The people who ask "Are we there yet?" are the worst travelers. They don't find anything satisfying about crossing state lines, seeing different kinds of trees, or the imagined camaraderie of finding in the afternoon the car you passed in the morning. <I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I> gets these things, though. It's not worried about getting where it's going. It'll get there when it gets there. No one stops to ask, "Are we there yet" because being on the road is the reprieve from being places that everyone wants. In fact, we never actually <I>do</I> get where we're ostensibly headed.

I couldn't help but to think at times of <I>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</I>, particularly the relationship dynamics between The Driver (James Taylor), The Girl (Laurie Bird), and GTO (Warren Oates). The Girl is Etta place, tagging along until she decides to leave the boys to their finale - whatever it may be. She sleeps with The Mechanic, for whom there is no <I>Butch</I> analog, but like so many things in <I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I>, that occurrence is something of a non sequitar anyway.

It would be tempting to dismiss <I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I> as either dull and lacking in purpose (we never even learn anyone's actual name or reach Washington, D.C.), or so full of itself as to be off-putting ("Me and Bobby McGee" playing in the car at the gas station, that last shot of the burning celluloid). I can easily appreciate how viewers of different tastes would respond in those ways. Throughout its 103 minute run time, <I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I> was not just a vicarious road trip, but one that felt like a road trip I've actually taken, or easily could have taken. I don't really do much traveling these days, so it was nice to ride shotgun from California to North Carolina.

<B><I>Two-Lane Blacktop</I> Entered My Flickchart at #289/1577</B>

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