He was loved and hated. He was in his 40s and California during the early 1970s was yet to have one of its greatest lessons in history. The rest of America hasn't heard about him, but the movement that he championed was slowly making its roots across the nation, recruiting a legion of supporters to a cause so noble yet so revolutionary that it threatened to shatter the walls of bigotry surrounding the conservative minds of those who oppose a shift in the status quo. For having been able to stare the malignancy of discrimination and look upon it like a Goliath waiting to befall on its knees, he's got the biggest balls than any other man during his time. He is Harvey Milk.
And he is gay.
The movie itself, Milk, can only go as far as retelling the horrors of what it was and how it was to be gay and to live like one in a society where law enforcers enforce anything but the law. Or more to the point, it can only go as far as recapturing the severe insanity that took away the lives of those who find happiness and satisfaction in the embrace of their own kind. The madness of it all was society's sickness elevated to kingdom come. Politicians have their hands in the perfidy and perversion of ripping gays off of their rightful claim to a life deprived of hostility towards them. John Briggs saw to it that gay and lesbian teachers, and even those who support gays and lesbians, will be removed and banned from local California schools. He failed. Anita Bryant, the conservative woman responsible for Paper Roses, went even further by seeking to repeal the prohibition against discrimination based on a person's sexual orientation. She failed, too. Both were staunch advocates of the religious bias against homosexuals, citing God in every possible opportunity they can to sow fear in the hearts and minds of those who wave the gay banner with pride.
Which makes you think if there really is a loving Christian God; for God so loved the world that he allowed bigotry and hatred to thrive. But that's another thing.
Sean Penn can only go as far as revisiting the predicaments of Harvey, of how it felt to stamp The Castro District out of its misery and to put the nation out of the threshold of a perennial addiction to sexual prejudice. Penn can only go as far as reproducing the likeness of Harvey before the camera, but it too raises Harvey's untimely death at the hands of Dan White to heroic proportions, surrendering flesh and bones, albeit unknowingly, for a bigger cause.
But the film also pays attention to how Milk's obsession with politics blinded him from the threats to his life and, ultimately, from the very reason why he sought public office in the first place. To a certain degree, Milk sank into the political pit which he vowed to fight at a time when all he had was Castro Camera, Scott Smith and several other friends both gay and straight. He became, in a way, the ogre that never dies—precisely because the slayer of the mythical creature turned into the ogre himself. I do not know if Gus Van Sant intended it to be that way, faithfully reflecting the life of Milk as it bloomed before it wilted. But whatever the case, it rings a fairly familiar tone that resonates back to where we are—either you get to clean the mess in politics or the mess in politics gets to dirty you.
I've read several reviews of the film, and quite a number of them, if not most of them, write praises about Gus Van Sant's brainchild. The majesty of the movie rests not only on the superimposition of the life of Harvey Milk within the context of raising public awareness about the troubles of the past, although it echoes that message too. Neither does it solely rests on more contemporary issues, California Proposition 8 nowithstanding. Rather, the substance of it lies on how the genuine love for humanity knows no sexual boundaries.
You're gay, you do not only have to love men. You have to love others as well. The same holds true for lesbians and straight people, senile and young. The same holds true for Jews and Muslims, Hitler and Christ, taxi drivers and business executives. The same holds true for you and I. Feel free to supply your own. The point is that you do not have to be queer or otherwise to show that your mind can be pricked by the sense of respect and compassion, or the lack thereof. You do not even have to believe in Valentines Day to show that you perfectly understand sympathy and empathy and live them beyond mere knowing.
Harvey Milk teaches us to embrace humanity regardless of personal and social differences. Now if that isn't love to begin with, then I do not know what else is.
PBA097970680
And he is gay.
The movie itself, Milk, can only go as far as retelling the horrors of what it was and how it was to be gay and to live like one in a society where law enforcers enforce anything but the law. Or more to the point, it can only go as far as recapturing the severe insanity that took away the lives of those who find happiness and satisfaction in the embrace of their own kind. The madness of it all was society's sickness elevated to kingdom come. Politicians have their hands in the perfidy and perversion of ripping gays off of their rightful claim to a life deprived of hostility towards them. John Briggs saw to it that gay and lesbian teachers, and even those who support gays and lesbians, will be removed and banned from local California schools. He failed. Anita Bryant, the conservative woman responsible for Paper Roses, went even further by seeking to repeal the prohibition against discrimination based on a person's sexual orientation. She failed, too. Both were staunch advocates of the religious bias against homosexuals, citing God in every possible opportunity they can to sow fear in the hearts and minds of those who wave the gay banner with pride.
Which makes you think if there really is a loving Christian God; for God so loved the world that he allowed bigotry and hatred to thrive. But that's another thing.
Sean Penn can only go as far as revisiting the predicaments of Harvey, of how it felt to stamp The Castro District out of its misery and to put the nation out of the threshold of a perennial addiction to sexual prejudice. Penn can only go as far as reproducing the likeness of Harvey before the camera, but it too raises Harvey's untimely death at the hands of Dan White to heroic proportions, surrendering flesh and bones, albeit unknowingly, for a bigger cause.
But the film also pays attention to how Milk's obsession with politics blinded him from the threats to his life and, ultimately, from the very reason why he sought public office in the first place. To a certain degree, Milk sank into the political pit which he vowed to fight at a time when all he had was Castro Camera, Scott Smith and several other friends both gay and straight. He became, in a way, the ogre that never dies—precisely because the slayer of the mythical creature turned into the ogre himself. I do not know if Gus Van Sant intended it to be that way, faithfully reflecting the life of Milk as it bloomed before it wilted. But whatever the case, it rings a fairly familiar tone that resonates back to where we are—either you get to clean the mess in politics or the mess in politics gets to dirty you.
I've read several reviews of the film, and quite a number of them, if not most of them, write praises about Gus Van Sant's brainchild. The majesty of the movie rests not only on the superimposition of the life of Harvey Milk within the context of raising public awareness about the troubles of the past, although it echoes that message too. Neither does it solely rests on more contemporary issues, California Proposition 8 nowithstanding. Rather, the substance of it lies on how the genuine love for humanity knows no sexual boundaries.
You're gay, you do not only have to love men. You have to love others as well. The same holds true for lesbians and straight people, senile and young. The same holds true for Jews and Muslims, Hitler and Christ, taxi drivers and business executives. The same holds true for you and I. Feel free to supply your own. The point is that you do not have to be queer or otherwise to show that your mind can be pricked by the sense of respect and compassion, or the lack thereof. You do not even have to believe in Valentines Day to show that you perfectly understand sympathy and empathy and live them beyond mere knowing.
Harvey Milk teaches us to embrace humanity regardless of personal and social differences. Now if that isn't love to begin with, then I do not know what else is.
PBA097970680
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