First impression: Not the sobfest I expected, but powerful as hell nonetheless, perhaps owing to the nature of the story itself, but also beautifully executed.
The story is compelling in its humanity, its struggle, its surprise, its triumph, its demise. Harvey Milk was prescient enough to foresee his end, and so recorded an audio will only to be played upon his assassination. The movie is told through the framework of his making that recording, and perhaps there really was no other way to tell it. But in this way, we’re drawn into this complex history through a resurrected Harvey Milk.
For Milk, it was never only about San Francisco. That just happened to be where he landed. And he probably landed here because of when he landed — 1973. The struggle was for justice, for the fair and equal treatment of all gay, lesbian, bi, and transgender people in all walks of life. And it had to start somewhere.
The surprise was the successes found along the way, and not always coming from where you’d expect. For Milk, this had to be due, at least in part, to his charm, his charisma, and to his ability to read people, to know how to connect with allies as well as some of his own worst enemies on a human level.
The triumph, of course, started with Milk’s third attempt to become a city supervisor. This perhaps would never have happened if it weren’t for 1976’s change in how San Franciscans elect their local representatives — the still-controversial district elections. A later, and in a sense larger, victory was the defeat of Prop. 6 in 1978, the so-called Briggs Initiative, which would’ve prohibited gays, lesbians, and those who supported them from working in California public schools.
For Supervisor Dan White, the defeat of Prop. 6 validated Milk’s struggle, and conversely invalidated his own. Owing to this and other (perhaps unknowable) darknesses of White’s life, he murdered Milk and then-San Francisco Mayor George Moscone.
I’m recounting history here, but it’s so appropriate because the movie did such a good job of presenting that history.
What this film offers that The Times of Harvey Milk couldn’t is a personalized look into Milk’s life, mostly from his perspective. Gus Van Sant and Sean Penn collaborate to bring the ’70s gay icon and politician to life in a way that feels accurate to those of us who’ve only seen footage, and eerie to those I’ve spoken with who knew the man or lived through the era.
Such a feat doesn’t catapult a movie into greatness, but the base layer of the story of Milk’s rise from obscurity to heroism helps pave the way.
I learned from friends who are away for the holiday in towns perhaps less-ready that the movie hasn’t opened everywhere yet. All I can hope is that it does, and that those who need to will set aside prejudices and watch this movie with an open heart and understanding that every fight for civil rights is undertaken on behalf of us all.
