Times change. As do directors. Spike Lee, once known for conscientious
films that exposed the
hypocrisies of African-American
culture
eventually graduated towards exposing the
hypocrisies of other cultures
in such films as 25th Hour. And it didn't stop there, Inside Man shows that Lee's films can be entertaining, and not as preachy.
When Lee failed to connect with the community through such films as Bamboozled he documented the genius exhibited in The Original Kings of Comedy. When he captured my imagination through his tales of the Summer of Sam,
the lines between the racial schtick and unpretentious drama were
blurred. Lee could have digressed to directing or writing yet another
modern-day exploration of racism, but continues to grow and amaze us in
ways we have yet to fully comprehend. It's great to see him back on top
again.
One way of looking at it is that Lee is best when he is
behind the camera rather than in front of it, totally oblivious to the
audience who is looking for the style punctuated through such films as Jungle Fever and He Got Game,
in which directors partake of the same narcisstic indulges that record
executives once did in nineties rap videos. In '86 Lee had the Midas
touch with such gems as She's Gotta Have It,
an eerie prescient warning about the indifference of black women to
interpersonal responsibilities that still resonates today. But Lee
proved to be an equal opportunity hater when he covered interracial
relationships five years later. Lee returned to talking about the
sexual issues of black women with Girl 6, only to turn around and take an inside-out look of the Million Man March with Get on the Bus.
But then a weird thing began to happen; Lee was
entirely too good for
his own good, with plots running concurrently and entirely too many
messages for any one person to fully absorb. At the same time, the
hip-hop community his movies once served to entertain were dancing to
the mindlessness of an artform that had digressed towards pop
sentiments.