When I heard about director Spike Lee's HBO documentary regarding Hurricane Katrina, I had mixed emotions. Which Spike Lee were we going to get? Were we going to be privy to the artistic genius of "She's Gotta Have It" or "Do the Right Thing?" Or were we going to suffer through something akin to "Girl 6" or "Bamboozled?"
I was further concerned about Lee's desire to be what I call "Hitchcock on steroids." Director Alfred Hitchcock was famous for appearing in cameo scenes in his own movies. Lee, on the other hand, has often given himself significant roles in his movies. It has proven to not be one of his best artistic decisions.
But Lee's four hour documentary: "When the Levees Broke: a Requiem in Four Acts," calmed my fear within the first few minutes of viewing.
Accompanied by the haunting melodies of jazz musician Terrence Blanchard, Lee tells one of America's most tragic episodes with mostly pictures and the words of victims. Several notable exceptions such as the Rev. Al Sharpton, social critic Michael Eric Dyson, and actor Harry Belafonte also graced the screen. But I question whether their contributions provided significant added value.
It was the power of the first-person testimony that gave this project legs. Personal accounts of how one's survival was interwoven with death and neglect tends to trump social analysis from afar, myself included.
Many of the photos in Lee's documentary we've seen already, but it is good to be reminded. In fact, it is necessary for our collective humanity. We needed to be reminded of what can happen when the perfect storm intersects with the perfect breakdown of government at every level.
One does come away with the feeling that Lee places the greatest portion of the blame on President Bush. Which is understandable, he does, after all, have access to the most resources.
The president's "You're doing a heck of a job Brownie," which Lee played back three times, may go down in the annals of history as the gold standard for political ineptitude. But the president was hardly alone in falling short on the leadership meter.
We were also reminded of the ongoing political tension between Governor Kathleen Blanco and New Orleans Mayor, Ray Nagin, resulting from Nagin's endorsement of Blanco's Republican rival during the gubernatorial election.
Not to be outdone, after hearing a preliminary prognosis of Katrina it appears that Nagin's first concern was for the business community that elected him and not the 9th Ward that needed him.
Lee also spends significant portions of the final two segments in a more reflective posture. Through the use of news footage, interviews, and press conferences we are made privy to the systematic approach that ultimately led to an inadequate government response.
What I did find somewhat surprising, but no less appreciated, was Lee's suggestion through film that so much of the neglect was based on class more so than race.
As I have previously written, if one was black and had possession of a Visa card and a car they probably left New Orleans. If, however, one was white without those items they were in the Superdome with the other brothers and sisters.
Make no mistake because so much of New Orleans underclass is African American, race was, as it is with much of American society, a subtext. Either way, the Katrina response, or lack thereof, was in part society's inability to see the humanity of those stuck in the quagmire of the social underside.
Though no longer a sexy news item, Lee reminds us that the Katrina aftermath is still relevant. We continue to ask with quizzical disbelief, how could something of this magnitude happen in America?
Well it did happen and we still don't know the whole truth. But Lee's four-hour documentary is an important contribution.
By serving in a capacity similar to that of the Old Testament prophets, Lee has become a courageous truth teller, providing us another piece to the Katrina conundrum. And for that we owe him a debt of gratitude.
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