First things first. Lee Daniels’ The Butler is worth seeing. But not just because it’s a box office blockbuster with plenty of show-biz buzz.
It’s a compelling, heavily fictionalized account of a black White House butler who actually served from the Eisenhower to the Reagan Administration. Poetic dramatic license was obviously not spared in reflecting the roiling racism of the times. Newsreel footage added gritty reality. Oprah Winfrey has a major part, not including her massive marketing appeal. Forest Whitaker, who plays the role of the character loosely based on Eugene Allen’s 34-year, White House tenure, is superb. Other prominent, entertainment-world figures–from Robin Williams to Jane Fonda–were purposely included to help hype the movie to white audiences.
But because, not unlike 42, it chronicles the ugly truth of America’s racist roots–as well as evolving race relations–it should be seen by both black and white audiences. Especially those generations who have never found time to read the minutes of previous racial meetings–and think reality kicked in with the demise of Michael Jackson and the death of Trayvon Martin.
If you’ve seen Lee Daniels’ The Butler, you’ll know what I mean on this one: The movie ran about 10 minutes too long. Perhaps a prescient, concluding exchange between butler father and erstwhile activist, Black Panther son about when–or if–we would see a black president–and what it would say about America–would have sufficed.
But timing is everything. The movie continued through the Barack Obama campaign and election. Plenty of “Hope” and “Yes We Can” imagery culminating with an invitation for the elderly Whitaker-as-Allen character to visit President Obama. The president is not depicted, but he was actually written into the initial script. Daniels rightly thought it would have been “overkill.”
The irony at this point is palpably sad.
Four and a half years in, the likely legacy of the first administration headed by an African-American increasingly looks like: “historic opportunity missed.” Right-wing haters have come out of hibernation. They found cover in opposing Obama’s “policies.” Some believe he’s a “socialist,” whatever that means to them. Some still see an ineligible imposter. Others just see themselves looking up at someone they think they should be looking down on.
Liberals know he’s much better than the alternative–but also know that’s an insultingly low bar. Affordable health care should be single payer. Obama shouldn’t have had to “evolve” on gay rights. Not all of his cabinet appointees have been sterling–and we may yet be revisited by Lawrence Summers, this time chairing the Federal Reserve. There have been IRS and NSA embarrassments. Foreign policy–regardless of the neo-conned mess the president inherited–now seems tentative, flailing and nigh on to hawkish on Syria.
At the climatic moment that concludes The Butler, I frankly didn’t want to be reminded of what the tortuous, civil rights struggle had apparently culminated in. Our first black president was presiding over perversely polarized politics, the gridlock from hell and a frenzied White House that now seems more histrionic than historic.