‘Selma” is a bit of hard U.S. history
I've already written about how "Selma" actor David Oyelowo (Oh-yeh-low-woe) got shortchanged by the people who nominate acting performances for Oscars. Following is the full transcription of the "Selma" review that I wrote for Spokane Public Radio:
About a half hour into “Selma,” Ava DuVernay’s exploration of a notable chapter in the U.S. civil rights movement, I wanted to get up and leave. Not because of anything that DuVernay had done. It was simply because, having lived through that era, I knew what was coming. And I didn’t want to have to experience it yet again.
It was in March 1965 – the year I graduated from high school – that a consortium of local and national civil-rights groups gathered in Selma, Alabama. Their aim was to win the vote for back citizens, legal rights that were being denied for reasons ranging from literacy tests to outright physical intimidation – even murder.
On March 7, several hundred protesters attempted to march from Selma to Alabama’s capital, Montgomery, only to be confronted by state troopers, county sheriffs and a host of deputized local whites wielding clubs and whips. Images from that confrontation, which led to dozens of injuries, were broadcast all over the world – and served as a testament both to the courage of people such as Amelia Boynton and a future Georgia Congressman, John Lewis, and to the determination of Alabama officials such as Gov. George Wallace that such a demonstration would not take place.
Yet two days later another group, this one led by Martin Luther King, started a march. This time, the police stepped aside. But King, not trusting that the way was safe, turned back. Finally, on March 17th, with President Lyndon Johnson having provided U.S. troops as security, some 8,000 marchers took to the road. When the group entered Montgomery on March 24th, more than 20,000 people were present to hear King deliver one of his most famous speeches.
DuVernay captures all this, plus the surrounding drama involving the infighting – or negotiating, if you will – between the various acronym-named groups representing the civil rights movements’ various factions. Her main focus, though, rests naturally on King. And, yes, she alters some timelines, makes judgments regarding motivation – especially involving Johnson, who is viewed as having a contentious relationship with King – and much of the dialogue is no doubt dramatized.
But the essence of what DuVernay gives us feels authentic. She puts her talented cast in positions that, for the most part, avoid big, melodramatic moments. She also avoids making King into anything more than what he was: a courageous, committed man with human frailties the FBI didn’t hesitate to exploit.
If British actors Tom Wilkinson and Tim Roth are less effective as Johnson and Wallace, respectively, DuVernay more than makes up for that by exploiting the obvious talents of another Brit, David Oyelowo as King, not to mention Carmen Ejogo as Coretta Scott King, Stephan James as John Lewis, André Holland as Andrew Young and many others – including Oprah Winfrey. Oyelowo, in particular, captures the quiet power, and occasional hesitance, of a man who would die at an assassin’s hand barely three years later.
Which is another of many sad stories of American history I am loathe to relive.