“Milk” is a beautiful, satisfying film that’s sure to get great reviews. Film critics will focus rightfully on Sean Penn’s powerful performance, the excellent dialog, the fluency of the film’s storytelling, and its cast full of winning performances. But I’m guessing that most reviewers will over look what makes the film special and truly important to the GLBTQ community. Even though it uses the ungainly lens of biography, and biography of a man who has been painted as a martyr and veritable gay saint no less, “Milk” tells a story few films manage: the story of an entire community struggling with oppression and one man who was a community organizer as much as a poster-child champion. I squealed to myself when the film portrayed the Coors boycott that launched Harvey Milk into small-scale political power and the gay men’s community into the sights of the Teamsters union. I know my more post-modern, Bulter and Foucault loving friends may poo-poo this analysis, but I think this sort of presentation of our history as a community of activists is exactly what we need more of.
Some poor reviewer was probably cringing while it unfolded on the screen, but my favorite “Milk” scene featured Cleve Jones, a young gay man who became a consummate community organizer after meeting Harvey Milk. Cleve stands at a payphone, his huge glasses and 1970s curly hair filling up the screen, and dials contact after contact urging them to attend a rally against prop 6, the 1978 California ballot measure prevent queer teachers from working in public schools. As Cleve speaks, the screen splits to show to whom he is speaking and then splits again and again until it becomes a bright, boxy 70s-style montage illustrating the power of community organizing. This is an example of the real genius of “Milk”: all of the glories of the 1970s gay men’s community are harnessed to tell the story of how that community was formed and the role Harvey Milk played in it.
The film goes out of its way to include historically accurate and engaging portrayals of the people who worked alongside Harvey Milk so when Harvey is killed, it’s clear that the community lived on. Unfortunately, portraying this community is also where the film fails. “Milk” does an excellent job of showing the rise of the Castro and how gay men banded together to deal with the violence and oppression they were facing. But gay men are where the film begins and ends. The movie is dominated by white men. By my watch, 45 minutes pass before the first woman character appears and when she does she is Anita Bryant, the anti-gay conservative crusader that functions at the films only un-humanized boogie-man. After about an hour, Anne Kronenberg, Harvey Milk’s lesbian campaign manager also enters the story. Happily, the tensions between her and the gay men’s community are acknowledged immediately and openly, but the character never develops. The only characters of color in the film is Harvey’s Asian aid, whom Harvey repeatedly calls “lotus blossom” and Harvey’s Latino boyfriend Jack who comes off as nothing but pathetic. Transgender folks, namely drag queens, are spoken of in extremely favorable terms, but only a few ever make it on screen, all as participants in street protests and none with speaking parts. The world of “Milk” is overwhelmingly white, gay, and male.
In defense of the film, Harvey Milk’s world was much closer to the film than I might like. However I do believe that opportunities to reflect a greater diversity were missed. Harvey himself is continuing mentioning people the diverse groups of people that supported him. It’s a little jarring to watch meetings and protests where those people are absent. I personally found it odd that Dianne Fennstine is never mentioned in the film, despite playing a significant role in the events portrayed. On the other hand, “Milk” as it is may show us something useful about how our community came to be dominated by white, gay, business-minded men. Harvey himself was all of those things and the Castro became a neighborhood that prized them. Perhaps by looking this history square in the face, we can learn something from it.
“Milk” has it’s short-comings, but so does our community. The simple fact is, there is something glorious about this film. Penn’s Harvey is always charming, never campy. The film uses the history, the fashion of the time (is my love for cosmatized masculinity showing?), and music to its best advantage. It hits the cliches – “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and the rhetoric of destroying every closet door – without letting them dominate. So go see “Milk.” Our history isn’t perfect, but it’s ours.
Queeresque 