Film - Green Book

Film - Green Book - Isaac Ike

An essay on Green Book winning. By Isaac Ike





"Me and my boyfriend saw 'Green Book' in a 100-seat house that was completely empty, on a Tuesday night, drinking movie-theater mojitos and chain-smoking weed.

Now as a kid I loved the whole 'dumb white person learns about life's many blessings from a sage soulful sassy black person.' I loved it in 'The Green Mile' and 'The Legend of Bagger Vance' and 'Forrest Gump' and basically anything starring Morgan Freeman, including 'Driving Miss Daisy,' which this film rips off, drags, rolls around in, and dry humps until it passes out.

'Green Book' (or, 'Both Sides: The Movie') tells us v. quickly that it is 'based on a true story' (which you know is a God-damn lie) and it's about a poor white man (Viggo in full-on Oscar 'gotta catch 'em all' thirst-trap mode; yes there's an accent, yes he gained weight, yes he thinks this is HIS TIME) who is forced to drive a rich black man (fine-ass Mahershala Ali in full-on 'my niece my witness' shoop-worthy costumes looking all fine and shit chocolate chip honey dip CAN I GET A SCOOP whatever I can't even with this fine-ass nigga right now) across country so the black guy can play piano for unwoke whyiets in the South, and the white man can learn what's really important: taking money from soft Negros so he can stop winning hotdog eating contests to pay his family's rent (this movie is fucking insane).

By the time the movie features a scene where the black man in the back seat admits he doesn't know who Aretha Franklin is and has never eaten fried chicken, I began to vape Skywalker Kush in a desprate attempt to escape the fate in store for me. 'It's fine man, they're not REALLY going to show a montage of a white man introducing a black man in the 60's to black music and how to eat fried chicken, you're just trigger warning-happy, they couldn't possibly -' and then...

...they did.

Now, this is a film about a genius composer who lived above Carnegie Hall, sat on a literal throne, was queer, and had John F. Kennedy on speed dial. Why is he in the backseat? Not just literally, but in an actual plot level: why are we spending dozens of minutes with a white dude's family dynamics, his over-eating competitions, his letters to his wife - when, just behind him, there is an Academy Award-winning actor giving life to a character type WE HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE.

But this film - directed by the man who brought you 'There's Something about Mary' and 'Dumb and Dumber' and written by the white driver's ACTUAL SON - only cares about how a white person could be affected by this black man's unique glow.
When Viggo finally fights back for his 'friend,' it is only in instances where he is personally called out. So the black dude can't get into a dinner 'cause of segregation? It's fine until the waiter insults Viggo, THEN he gets pushed against a wall! A cop sees a black man in a backseat and pulls them over? All good until the cop makes fun of the white person for being Italian!

By the time the film reaches its finale - where the piano player, cast out of a white establishment, travels to a black bar and plays black music on the piano - the black music he learned from the white man - I was #babashook. This is a film that actually insists that both men must learn something. The white man needs to learn to stop being racist - easy! He just meets one talented black guy! The black man, well, he needs to learn to not be so prideful, so classical: he must 'step it up to the street' with his brothers and sisters and really just 'get down' at a juke joint! He has to not take himself so seriously! (The idea of a white writer crafting this bullshit and charging 15 bucks for it is still making my head shake like a funko toy on top of Vin Diesel's dashboard: TOO fast, TOO furious).

Now the film has been nominated for five Golden Globes, made the AFI top ten list, numerous critic awards, with a clear path to the Oscar nominations.

When I mention this movie, people say 'I heard that was so good!'

When I looked online, all of the national raves - every single one - were written by a white person, usually by a man. they all mention how 'inspiring' and 'realistic' the storytelling is. The black critics? Nearly uniform in clearly outlined disdain for the film. This mirrors the reality of the white driver's kids writing the script and claiming it to be true, but the black man's family crying foul, showing receipts for the lies, begging to be heard, but national media never picking up their side of the story. The narrative has already moved past the truth. This is the 'good' black film. Not as pushy as 'Black Panther.' Not as mean as 'BlacKKKlansman.' Not as out there as 'Sorry to Bother You.' (It also brings to mind the 1989 Oscar disaster, where the white-written and -directed 'Driving Miss Daisy' won Best Picture and 'Do The Right Thing' was never even nominated).

This is a film that reminds you where whites prefer to see us: in period pieces, in distress, in need of a savior: in the backseat while someone elses drives the whole thing home.

I love the actors in this movie. The director has made some great movies not too long ago. I want to support film that pushes important social messages.

But I'm tired of shit like this, and I'm honestly creeped out by anyone who isn't. The only good thing about all this is that when my boyfriend drives me somewhere now, I just lean back in the passenger seat and say shit like 'eyes on the road' and 'driver! hands at ten and two!' like Mahershala said in the movie, but I do it in my Jessica Tandy 'Driving Miss Daisy' voice, because I need some sick pleasure in my life and I think it’s fine to steal everything from this movie
which takes, takes, takes so much from every person who watches it.

Your grandma would love this film.

You should talk to her about that."

#ButWhatDoIKnowAboutNarratives