'The Devil All the Time' is less than the sum of its parts

The brilliance of the late Robert Altman's ensemble movies is that you never felt like you didn't get enough character development in his sprawling, interconnected narratives. It's hard to do, get well-rounded snapshots of people as part of a thematic pastiche, but he did it -- again and again.

Many filmmakers have tried and failed to pull of the same magic trick in his wake and the makers of The Devil All the Time, based on a novel of the same name by Donald Ray Pollock, can be added to the list.

It has many elements of a great film -- excellent period details and production values, a stacked (and very white cast) of up-and-coming or newly established stars (like Robert Pattinson and Tom Holland) and some strikingly staged sequences, but it doesn't amount to much since we never really establish an emotional connection to anything that's happening.

The movie is a cavalcade of depravity: corrupt preachers, cops and politicians, serial killers, and sexual deviants. It's a story about violence and evil, that's meant to be in the stark Cormac McCarthy tradition but it doesn't have the gravitas or the grit of a No Country for Old Men, even if its violence can be effective and appropriately gnarly.

It's wrapped in drawling narration supplied by the book's author that helps give the movie some episodic structure but not much of a point of view. I'm actually a fan of voiceover narration -- when it's used well. For instance, I have always loved the slightly detached sarcasm of the narrator of Barry Lyndon. But in this film it almost seems to be there just to make sure we can keep the various plotlines of the film in order. 

It can be a frustrating watch since several of the film's threads could have made for an interesting movie on its own -- like a subplot involving Jason Clarke and Riley Keough, who pick-up men so Clarke can photograph them sleeping with his wife and then murder. Their scenes have a tension and unpredictability I appreciate, but they feel like an aside.

Tom Holland struggles mightily to subvert his Spider-Man babyface to play a rugged badass, while Robert Pattison tries to breathe new life into the cliched role of the crooked clergymen (with an almost cartoonish Southern accent), but to what end?

What is the mission statement of this movie? It opens well, with a story about a man whose faith is tested and is proven irrational when faith comes crashing down on him, but it's really just a long trailer for an even longer film that plays a little like southern gothic chic.

It's not boring but I have grown a little cynical about these films that mistake brutality for profundity. The inevitably of death, and the senselessness of cruelty are subjects worth interrogating but not in a way that's this cursory and somehow methodical at the same time.

'I'm Thinking of Ending Things' plays like prototypical Kaufman*

*for better or worse

Charlie Kaufman's aesthetic -- especially when it is not tempered by an equally audacious and more upbeat collaborator like Michel Gondry or Spike Jonze -- can be aggressively antagonistic to an audience. It's not so much that he resists easy categorization but he has a penchant for wallowing in despair that can be as grating as it can be spontaneously funny.

He gets game, enthusiastic performances from his actors -- especially Jesse Plemons (as yet another neurotic Kaufman sad sack) and newcomer (to me) Jessie Buckley -- and although his writing is his trademark, Kaufman does have a real eye for memorable visual stylization.

But his characters are also often caustic are impenetrable and there's a case to be made for telling a 2 hour and 15 minute inside joke (complete with a pretty mean cheap shot at Robert Zemeckis and a prolonged, Pauline Kael cribbing analysis of John Cassavettes' A Woman Under the Influence) that dares an audience to try to be on the inside is a bit indulgent to say the least. 

I am torn about Kaufman's artistry. I have been an enormous fan of his early work but his solo projects are another kale of fish. I appreciate their ambition and artistry, but I am not as easily enamored with them as many film critics are.

His latest, the dreamy I'm Thinking of Ending Things veers wildly from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf-style black comedy (with Toni Collette and Davis Thewlis playing over-the-top weirdos whose appearance and age change suddenly without explanation) and a surreal mood piece about the disintegration of a relationship (or relationships).

The plot is probably pointless to describe -- it involves a couple that is ostensibly going to visit the man's parents --who appear to be in some kind of time warp. It actually could make an interesting play, but as a film it's claustrophobic and frequently unsettling.

It's certainly never boring -- and Kaufman's unpredictability feels like it can all turn into a horror show at any given moment -- although it's more a surreal supernatural trip. It's a very literate movie, like his Synecdoche, New York its packed with symbolism and psychological complexity but its also aggressively inaccessible.

I supposed I could say it is about the banality of life and death or maybe it's about perils of miscommunication. Your guess is as good as mine. I consider myself a pretty smart guy but I couldn't make heads or tails out of what Kaufman is trying to say here,

I recently heard and interview with Kaufman on a Hollywood Reporter podcast and was shocked by how down to earth and disarming he was. I expected a mercurial David Lynch type who would be evasive and pretentiously playful. But he was funny, friendly and self deprecating. I wish his film's had that kind of sincerity, if not heart.

I don't need films to be easily understandable and certainly I don't need a happy ending. But I often find myself wondering who is films are for. They increasingly seem to be for himself, and if other people want to get one board they can. Clearly, a lot of critics do. And it's understandable. He's an original, doing work that is singular and challenging. It's actually based on a book, which it seems pretty faithful to but I assume Kaufman is putting his own spin on it, which is also admirable.

I suppose I'd recommend it, since I am always looking for big swings at originality and art -- but the difference for me and someone like Lynch is that Lynch almost always has a certain joy in his craft, even when the subject matter is bleak. Kaufman seems to have pity if not outright contempt for people,  and I just choose not to see the world that way.

'Palm Springs' is a very pleasant diversion in a dark time

Palm Springs takes a very accessible, crowd-pleasing premise -- essentially what if Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell had gone through Groundhog Day together -- and works wonders with it. It's been a long time since I saw a romantic comedy that I genuinely enjoyed and laughed out loud at and if, like me, you're needing laughs right now you can't go wrong with it.

Andy Samberg proves he can anchor a movie like this as a leading man, but the real revelation is his co-star Cristin Milioti, who has shined in small film roles and on Broadway but has never had a real showcase like she has here. She's funny, sexy, sympathetic and unpredictable -- basically everything you'd want in a romantic comedy lead.

I went into Palm Springs pretty cold -- I knew there was a supernatural element going in -- but part of the fun of the movie (which is a very well paced 90 or so minutes) is that it doesn't immediately plunge you into its high concept premise.

Samberg's character has been reliving the same day (what turns out to be the wedding day of a close friend of his girlfriend) for an unknown period of time before he accidentally draws Milioti into his world. Once the two of them embrace their plight the film takes on a sublime, fizzy energy that is infectious.

They pretty much carry the movie on their shoulders, although J.K. Simmons turns in a very funny supporting turn that reminds you how likable he can be in the right circumstances. And for much of the film's running time it feels like an inventive, if albeit a little derivative, romp.

That energy can't be fully sustained in the last act -- which becomes increasingly conventional and therefore a little less invigorating -- but this is a small quibble, Palm Springs is so bright, loose, engaging and lovable that I'm willing to look past its deficiencies. 

It's also a decidedly small scale comedy -- which could serve a blueprint for where movies like this are headed. I actually think it could have performed well and might have been a hit had it been marketed the right way as a traditional theatrical release, but it also, works just fine as a streaming vehicle.

It largely takes place on just a handful of sets, with a modest-sized cast and plausible-but-not-flashy special effects. It reminded me a little of Safety Not Guaranteed, a movie I still like although it seems to have earned a lot of detractors in the period subsequent to its release.

It's essentially one of those movies everyone can enjoy -- and these days, that's not a bad thing at all.

'Antebellum' doesn't take full advantage of great premise

Antebellum had a fantastic trailer that promised a Jordan Peele-esque horror film that mixed in prescient social commentary on race. The finished product only party succeeds and makes for a very frustrating watch. Many strong elements are there -- it's incredibly well crafted a shot, had a charismatic lead in Janelle Monae and a good Twilight Zone-ish twist that could make for a great contribution to our national conversation of confederate statues and fetishization of the Civil War.

But it comes up short in many key ways, most of them structural. The script is fatally flawed in key ways that keep this potentially fascinating film from living up to its full potential.

It was directed by its screenwriters -- Gerard Bush and Christopher Renz -- so it's unclear to me if there was some meddling from producers or if they simply didn't see the problems with their plotting but while there are some compelling sequences in the movie -- including a bravura opening single take shot -- it largely squanders what is good about it by wallowing in misery in its first act and then rushing to its finale in its third.

The film opens with a very grim, long sequence set on what appears to be a slave plantation. We are used to seeing these kind of brutal 'period' movies. None have been more effective at conveying the dehumanization and torture of the institution than the Oscar-winning 12 Years a Slave, and while it's important that a film like Antebellum not sugarcoat slavery either, there's a point where the brutality can be overkill.

It doesn't help that Monae, a gifted actress, isn't given a ton of character development. Given the fact that the big twist in the movie -- which I won't spoil here -- could and should give a lot more nuance to everything that happens in the first act, it really bogs the movie down.

About a third of the way through there's a shift -- an incredibly long flashback if you will -- that has the Monae character in a modern setting. She plays a wildly successful sort of self help guru with an adorable family and likable best friends, including a scene-stealing Gabourey Sidibe. Her life is probably a tad too two dimensionally idyllic but I did like how the film ominously layers on some dread. Particularly, a scene where a horse drawn carriage plows through a scene, I must admit I jumped a litle.

Eventually we are rocketed back to the Monae character in her plantation plight and when the plot starts to finally reveal itself -- far too late in the proceedings to my opinion -- the movie's momentum starts to pick up and some interesting ideas could be explored.

But instead of exploring the world more that the movie has taken painstaking time to establish -- for instance, we are struck by the curious image of 'slaves' picking cotton all day that is then simply burned -- is chucked out the window for a bit of cliched escape finale that has some satisfying jolts but ultimately leaves far too much unresolved or unexplained.

What's maddening is that this movie does something I really like, which is avoid the trap of taking the easy supernatural way out -- and while its message is ultimately a heavy handed one, that doesn't mean there isn't a need for it.

Still, it's a bad sign when you are constantly asking yourself why things are happening on screen for as long as they are or why certain narrative choices are even being made -- and I found myself doing it constantly. 

The film is under two hours long and suffers for it. I remembered thinking that it could in theory make for a good television miniseries or novel, especially since the bold premise lends itself to more interrogation -- but alas this is what we have.

I don't regret seeing it -- it's flaws are considerable and will probably prevent the film from reaching the audience it could have -- but I think it's worth talking about. A great film could be and should be made about the need of some white people to continue re-litigating the Civil War, as if it's results weren't definitive and codified.

But Antebellum, sadly, is not that film.

It substitutes too much sickening imagery for substance and sacrifices what could have been a really good story to service a tidy conclusion.

I wish the filmmakers had gone back to the drawing board.

'Mulan' looks fantastic but also feels a little hollow

I have no idea how much Mulan cost Disney to make but it's obvious from the spectacular production values that they spared no expense. The colors and lively and sumptuous, the sets are detailed and gorgeous and the costumes are spectacular. I only wish the film was as emotionally as satisfying as it is to look it.

I never saw the original animated Mulan, so I can't know how this compares to the original. In fact, the one thing about Mulan that always lingers in my memory is the fact that its female empowerment message so troubled a then up and coming Mike Pence, that he felt the need to write a now widely ridiculed op-ed condemning it.

I assume like most Disney movies of its time that it was both a musical and an action comedy with a message. The new version has no song, next to no comedy but some action and certainly a message -- and it may be weaker for it. The message, don't get me wrong, is great. But it's delivered with no sense of joy or inspiration, just sort of matter-of-factly.

Perhaps I am far from the target audience, and if this new Mulan inspires a new generation of girls I'd be thriller, but Liu Yifei is allowed so little range of emotion in the title role or complexity that I found it hard to get invested in her journey. Being determined is admirable but it doesn't make for a fully fleshed out person worth rooting for. A little humor or quirk might have gone a long way here, but with the exception of one charming scene involving a matchmaker this movie is more interested in hitting its narrative beats in a predictable fashion.

This is a shame, because of all the recent Disney live action reimagining of their beloved animated properties, this one seemed to show the most promise. It had a terrific international cast, including a scene-stealing Gong Li and Donnie Yen and it at least appears to be not quite as slavishly devoted to its source material -- all good things.

But it seems to be more committed to a solemn tone than an invigorating one -- although a handful of its action scenes are spectacularly staged. It's not a bad film by any means but it is also not remotely fun enough to be a great one.

Disney has been indulging in a kind of creatively bankrupt cannibalism for the last five years or so. They have their tentpole Marvel and Star Wars moneymakers -- which may divide fans but have at least been interesting and sometimes even brilliant. But when it comes to their own legacy content they seem eager to simply rip off nostalgic fans by presenting them with films they've already seen barely altered.

The sad reality is that these movies have been making money hand over fist: Aladdin was the biggest hit of Will Smith's career, the 'new' version of The Lion King managed to outperform the last Star Wars film and Beauty and the Beast is within the top 20 highest grossing films of all time (unadjusted for inflation). So there is no incentive for Disney to stop this, even if it is so nakedly cynical and creatively moribund. 

This one even fooled me. I'd had no interest in those earlier live action remakes, but this one looked to be a marked improvement over its predecessors. In some ways it is -- its definitely a mature and well-crafted film that is culturally sensitive and that strikes the right chord about its gender politics -- but it's missing a huge key element: personality.

It's probably not a good sign where the most memorable performance in your movie comes from the second banana villain (Gong Li) and when you find yourself dozing ahead of the film's big climax, as I did. In fairness to the movie, it could and should have played better on the big screen, which the coronavirus has deprived us of.

It could have been and probably would have been a massive hit (although I am sure Disney Plus will recoup its costs with their pricey at home rental fess, and I would have liked to have seen that, even if I have my reservations about the movie, because big budget all-Asian cast films are so rare and it success could have led to many more, potentially better films reflecting the diversity of the culture.

In many ways, Mulan's place in history is secure for that reason -- its unorthodox release may very well represent the future of how we see movies if hopefully not the way that we make them.

'Bill & Ted Face the Music' is cute, well-intentioned and disposable

Bill & Ted Face the Music is not unlike the original two films in the franchise in that its laughs are so silly and stupid that you're almost embarrassed to be laughing at it. These were never 'great' comedies, they were amiable ones -- and they were mostly watchable because Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter were so committed to their lead roles.

The good news about the long delayed sequel is that they are still in fine form -- although both are definitely showing their age. I personally think it was a mistake not to update the characters in any significant way (how interesting would it have been if say Reeves' Ted had abandoned his 'dude' patois and become a mature professional) but they are both a lot of fun here, especially when they get to play off of various heightened versions of themselves.

Unfortunately, in a pandering attempt to be all things to all people -- the film also shoehorns in a pathetic attempt at a passing of the torch, with the pair's daughters (played as a female facsimile of their dads, unconvincingly by Samara Weaving and Brigitte Lundy-Paine) which falls horribly flat.

The idea of making this a hand-off to a younger, female generation is well-intentioned and even noble, but the filmmakers forgot to make the duo's kids distinct, interesting or funny and casting actresses clearly in their late 20s to pass as teens feels particularly misguided. 

The film's threadbare plot involves the two dudes last minute efforts to come up with the song they were supposed to compose that would unite the world. They are sent on their quest by a criminally and completely wasted Kristen Schaal in the role previously occupied by the late George Carlin's Rufus and they are pursued by a -- at first -- creepy alien assassin played to perfection by Anthony Carrigan (who pretty much steals the movie with his deadpan delivery). 

As is the case with the first two films, Bill & Ted's wives are completely inconsequential and for some odd reason played by American actresses who can't carry off an English accent at all. There's no real attempt to ground much of this movie with any real serious stakes, but as long as the focus is on Bill & Ted the proceedings are breezy enough that you don't bother with the plot holes.

Still, when the action turns to the daughters who are on their own time travel crusade to form a band for their dads, the movie drags -- although there is some genuinely enjoyable musical sequences throughout like when Jimi Hendrix and Mozart end up jamming together.

By the end the film culminates with a bunch of just ok special effects that play just fine on the small screen (this is the rare 2020 movie that isn't suffering from not rolling out in theaters) and an earnest message about how the world can come together through song (the end credits are a genuinely cute montage of people singing and dancing in viral videos from all over the globe). It's fun, it's forgettable and it didn't really need to happen -- kind of like this movie.

The tone and content of the film is decidedly family friendly. It's basically a kids film, although I am hard pressed to find any kids who know anything about Bill & Ted. For me, someone who grew up with them, this is probably the best film we could have gotten all these years later with many of the original players in place (even Ted's cop father returns at a sprightly 79 years old!).

So if you are looking for a completely disposable but distracting PG-rated 90 minutes you won't go wrong with this one, but I also think that we can leave these characters in the past and present for good.

'Unfit' is almost terrific but will persuade no one

The new anti-Trump documentary Unfit: The Psychology of Donald Trump is almost fascinating until Anthony Scaramucci hijacks the film for far too long to make an outdated and factually inaccurate defense of Trump voters and the movie comes to a screeching halt.

It's not entirely clear who this documentary is for -- it does feature a lot of anti-Trump Republicans like Bill Kristol and eventual convert George Conway (whose admission that he voted for Trump the first go round makes his potentially moving explanation for how he determined he was a racist fall flat). There are no Democrats to be seen really, which suggests it is aimed at disaffected conservatives -- a group that is already disproportionately represented in the media.

And since Trump supporters broadly have been proven infamously, inexplicably loyal to him -- this film is debuting amid the release of an audiotape where the president proudly admits to covering up the real dangers of the coronavirus for weeks -- it's highly unlikely to change many minds.

Still, there is another side to the film that is compelling. Plenty of people have armchair psychoanalyzed the president before, but the sober, articulate doctors in this film do it with such clarity and precision that you find yourself drawn in.

Additionally parallels are drawn to dictators like Mussolini and Hitler -- not in a histrionic way, but with great logic and humility. I simply wish the film had stuck to this track instead of turning into a highlight reel of Trump atrocities peppered with the occasional talking head (although a segment about how he cheats at golf is hilarious and oddly profound).

This is no Dinesh D'Souza propaganda piece -- the movie takes great pains to explain the historical precedent for why psychologists are discouraged from wading into presidential politics. In the 1964, several doctors crossed the line by making wild, unsubstantiated claims about GOP nominee Barry Goldwater's mental state. But their point that Trump's pathology is on display for all to see is well taken.

The problem is for all its clever editing and smart analysis, Unfit reveals little that is new about this president and if it was meant to move the needle in the presidential race, it certainly won't.

Recall that 16 years ago Michael Moore's acclaimed Fahrenheit 9/11 arrived with much greater fanfare and was a massive hit. That film, at least at the time, felt extraordinary --particularly because it had the audacity to 'go there' and question the orthodoxy around George W. Bush's supposed heroism on 9/11.

I remember thinking that that movie was going to really change things, that if anyone saw it they couldn't possible vote for Bush. And well, we all know what happened. 

No movie can fix this. Only we can -- while we still can. Unfit might make for a nifty artifact, particularly when people look back on this terrible era and try to understand the madness of the man and his supporters. But for now it's nothing special.

I'm rooting for 'Tenet' but also too scared to see it now

Before it debuted to mixed reviews and controversy about the nature of its release, I was very excited about Christopher Nolan's new movie Tenet. The film's mysterious trailer promised the kind of mind bending plot, incredible in-camera stunts and cool style which have all become trademarks for the director.

As a black movie fan, I was especially excited about the casting of John David Washington in the lead role (with bigger A-list name Robert Pattison in the second banana role). Nolan had decent diversity and representation in his past films (Morgan Freeman in the Batman movies comes to mind) but this is his first film with a person of color at its center -- and a rising, untested star to boot.

I've already heard some folks describe Tenet as the black James Bond we've all been waiting for -- and I'm here for it. I've seen the backlash too, not so much to the Washington or his performance, but the overall tone and content of the film, which many find more superficial than satisfying.

I am trying mightily to avoid any spoilers for the film which I am sure features several big twists and has something to do with time travel. It's hard because there are no theaters open here in NYC but there are in other parts of the country, so a lot of people have seen the nearly 3-hour epic, and it's impossible to keep anything under wraps these days.

It opened to a respectable $20 million this past weekend, especially considering the fact that we are in the midst of a pandemic and some of the biggest markets in the country remain closed. It's really a testament to Nolan's brand and excitement around this movie that it did as well as it did.

And I'm rooting for it because I want the moviegoing experience, the traditional one, to come roaring back. I've made no secret about the fact that there is nothing I miss more from the before-times (after being able to embrace my friends and family up close) than going to the movies.

But I also have tremendous anxiety about returning to what would almost certainly be a cesspool for infectious disease. Quite frankly, I feel like the producers of Tenet, its studio and Nolan are taking a tremendous risk by rolling it out now, especially if their film is held responsible for any outbreaks.

I assume theaters that are open are taking plenty of precautions -- checking temperatures, requiring masks -- but how do you really prevent the spread of covd in an enclosed space with a crowd of people?

I did venture out to a drive-in this past weekend, and it was wonderful (we saw the original Robocop) but other than drive ins  -- which depend on friendly weather circumstances -- I don't know what we're going to do.

Wonder Woman 1984 and No Time to Die are waiting in the wings, as are a bunch of of other would-be blockbusters that I remain very excited to see, so there is a lot riding on whether Tenet sinks or soars. So on one level I want it to be a hit, even if I feel like it's probably too risky at this moment for me to try and go see it.

Our country has rushed to return to noble way too quickly in so many facets of American life (bars, schools etc.) that it has only made it harder for us to have the movies again. Imagine if we had stayed on lockdown a little longer and had a universal mask requirement. We might not be where we are right now.

But of course Donald Trump is president, so why would do anything right when it comes to any crisis?

Revisiting 'The Birdcage' wasn't as bad as I expected

The Birdcage was a movie I loved when it first came out back in 1996. Despite it's F-bombs and sexual humor it was something a family favorite in my house and a VHS staple. But it's also one of those movies I feared might have aged so horribly I couldn't enjoy it anymore.

After revisiting it yesterday I am pleased to say that it sort, mostly holds up.

There are the glaring things. Hank Azaria is both hilariously funny and deeply problematic in his over the top performance as Robin Williams and Nathan Lane's "houseboy" from Guatelmala. I only saw the original film on which its based (La Cage Aux Folles) once and if memory serves, Azaria's comic role is actually an improvement in terms of racism on its predecessor.

And the son character -- who cruelly forces his father and his lover to masquerade as straight to please his potential in-laws (played to perfection by a very game Gene Hackman and Dianne Weist) -- is abominable. It doesn't help that the character doesn't have much of a personality and largely acts like a jerk -- the entire conceit of what he is doing is wrong, homophobic and detestable.

Some have argued then and now that the entirety of this exercise is inherently antigay -- and those critics may have a point -- although Mike Nichols' film does take great pains to really flesh out Lane and Williams' characters so they are not just caricatures.

I also appreciate that both of their characters are given the space to pushback on their son's request that the sublimate their identities, although I don't buy that they wouldn't be more furious with him for suggesting it. But it was 1996.

The ending is probably the weakest link -- despite the delightful image of Gene Hackman in drag. When Lane is revealed to be impersonating a woman and the gig is up, Hackman's conservative politician doesn't comfort or come to grips with his prejudice or his anger at being had, we simply see the insanely young couple (Williams and Lane's son is supposed to be 20 but looks 35 and his fiancee, played by a fresh faced Calista Flockhart is supposed to be 18!) attending a big wedding ceremony, with the more colorful crowd there on the groom's side.

Whatever reconciliation or reckoning that takes place been Hackman/Weist (who are portrayed as insensitive homophobes) it happens fully off-screen and it feels like more than a cheat. It's almost like a surrender to the narrative corner to story has painted them in.

Still, it's definitely a fascinating rewatch all these years later, since its a time capsule of what passed for a risky, progressive comedy at the time -- but today seems very quaint. 

I found myself frequently comparing to Father of the Bride, which has a similar farcical meets sentimental family movie tone, albeit in a much more traditional context.

It's also strikingly sad -- watching Robin Williams show how talented he was by -- forgive the pun -- mostly playing the straight man here. His output in the late 90s was inconsistent at best -- remember Patch Adams? -- but he was an incredible actor when he was engaged with good material and a great director.

Because of the tragic circumstances of his death, there is a bit of a halo of sadness that hangs over all his work but there is also joy -- as he was for a time one of the funniest men who ever lived and he wore that mantle with grace and charm.

As for The Birdcage, I am glad I watched it again -- it gave me quite a few belly laughs even if the premise is both absurd and deeply problematic. I can see how some see it as an attempt by mainstream Hollywood to make a more palatable gay film for a less sophisticated audience but I think it's heart is in the right place.

And, as I said earlier, much of the humor -- remarkably -- still holds up.

'Selma' is a serious wake-up call ahead of the 2020 election

Given all the racial unrest and anxiety around voter suppression right now I thought it would be as good a time as any to revisit Ava DuVernay's acclaimed film Selma, and I'm pleased to say it really holds up.

It may be best remembered now at the film that ignited the #OscarsSoWhite debate. Despite rave reviews, a timely premise and a solid performance at the box office, the movie (which documents and recreates the battle for black voting rights in 1965) was snubbed for Best Actor and Best Director, although it did sneak into the crowded Best Picture field.

Six years later though, it should be recognized for its power and prescience. 

The film is remarkably moving -- you can't watch it and not walk way with immense respect and admiration for the tireless effort of activists including but not exclusively Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the late Rep. John Lewis. When it came out, it struck a nerve because the Supreme Court had very recently gutted the Voting Rights Act -- but today it has resonance for a myriad of other reasons.

First and foremost, it is a tremendous anecdote to voter apathy. This movie reminds us -- in case we needed the reminder -- that many people fought and died so that we could all have the freedom to vote and my takeaway from it then and now is that it's an affront to those peoples' legacies to refrain from that institution.

The movie also helps drive home how really briefly we've had real voting rights in this county. Basically none of our presidential elections were fair until 1968 (maybe).

The emotional moments of the film all still land a punch:  seeing Oprah Winfrey abused by police as the courageous Annie Lee Cooper, the heartbreaking moment where King (played to perfection by David Oyelowo) tries to comfort the grandfather of Jimmie Lee Jackson (who was brutally slain amidst civil rights protests) or the final, rousing oratory of King on the steps of the Alabama statehouse -- which is then brilliantly undercut by a title card reminding us that Viola Luizzo, a well-intentioned white woman who'd come to Alabama to help in the fight was brutally murdered just hours later helping transport black activists into the night.

And yet -- there are still people who think they are being noble by not participating in electoral politics.

King and his followers weren't arguing that we should like politics or like politicians. The battle to win voting rights was slow, arduous, bloody and by no means was it a guaranteed success. These activists were no illusions that winning the right to free and fair elections in the South was going to change conditions for black people there overnight.

However, they understood the need and impact incremental victories could have and they recognized that without the ability to vote and by extension influence politicians they would not be able to get laws changed that would disproportionately benefit communities of color. Believe me, if they could have bypassed Congress and state legislatures and elected sheriffs -- I am sure they would.

I have very little patience for apathy this election cycle. The president of the United States is actively encouraging violence and excusing murder. I understand not liking the alternative, but it takes such a cynical leap of faith to presume that a Joe Biden would govern the exact same way as Donald Trump that if you've convinced yourself of that you're not a student of history or have much of a grasp on reality.

Selma is a good reality check for anyone, but especially those people out there who think they are ambiguous about voting. It's a sacred right. And as long as we still have it, we ought to use it.