Carro
Alex P. Kellog, "'Agh, a Negro!'" _Colorlines_ (Spring 2002), pp. 36-38.
_Denzel Washington avoids the racial pitfalls of Hollywood and redefines the black antihero_
Black antiheroes are not new to cinema. D. W. Griffith's _The Birth of a Nation_, literally the birth of modern film, placed black antiheroes -- including an evil-causing mulatto woman -- square in the middle of its story line. Meant to be a post-Reconstruction history lesson, Griffith's film tells a familiar tale -- that of blacks who commit the cardinal sins of sexually craving for whites _and_ equal rights (the two going in tandem), who in the end finally get their due (that would be death). Nowadays, black actors and actresses will inevitably spend a portion of their careers fighting racial demonization, thanks less to Griffith's canonization of the black male as black rapist than to the history of racial oppression in America, and its insidious legitimization of white hysteria in the face of black humanity.
Perhaps more than any other black actor now in a theater near you, Denzel Washington, the quintessential good guy on celluloid, carries the burden of transcending the racial boundaries imposed by mainstream America while remaining true to his cultural roots.
In his latest film, Washington has taken on the Herculean task of recasting the black antihero, betting it all on his ability to carry the day and not fall prey to playing a sterotyped role as a stereotype. ?Thought the mainstream (read: white) lens, Washington's portrayal of the bad black man in _Training Day_ may reinforce white stereotypes of black masculinity, black sexuality, and the very essense of blackness itself. Yet Washinton's reprisal of the black antihero is a masterful humanization of this traditionally stereotyped norm. What's more, Washington's latest role indicates how much he's learned from his predecessor, Sidney Poitier, about maintaining his viability as a leading black actor.
_Cautionary Tale_
. . . .Poitier . . .choice words of advice. Pick your first three roles wisely, for they will define your career. Poitier, successful on so many fronts, was ultimately a victim of Tinsel Town's tempered liberalism. Hollywood had become particularly preachy and out of touch on the issue of race in the late 1960s . . . .While he successfully undermined the myth of black evil, Poitier eventually found himself pigeonholed into agenda roles meant to prove that Hollywood was in fact the least racist place of all.
. . ._Guess who's coming to dinner_ (that would be a Negro...agh!), exemplifies the best and the worst of his career. While it was the first time a film with a black leqd was number one in the box office, it also signaled the drastically declining relevance of Hollywood's whitewashed liberal agenda, now far removed from the more radical racial politics taking place on the streets of America. Particularly because the role was so nauseatingly assimilationist, Poitier quickly lost all legitimacy in the eyes of many young black moviegoers, themselves at the forefront of a new wave of cross-cultural radicalism. . . .Poitier's career would never fully recover.
_Does Denzel Have an Agenda?_
Still, the martginalization Poitier endured . . .not lost on his successors, least of all his contemporary torchbearer, Washington. That fact is readily apparent in Washington's career choices. Denzel has nev er kissed a white woman on film, much less engaged in an intimate relationship with one (the one exception is in _Malcolm X_, which historical accuracy required). Interracial love scenes were removed from _Devil in a Blue Dress_, _The Mighty Quinjn_ and _The Pelican Brief_. Washington refused the lead role in Spike Lee's Jungle Fever, which instead was leapt upon by Wesley Snipes, who has publicly celebrated the fact that he does not date black women.
But aside from his choice of on-screen bedfellows, the clearest indications Washington has given of his political agenda are in his refusal to drive Miss Daisy, so to speak. . . .Malcolm X. . . .Nobody in their right mind would have ezpected Washington to win for playing a powerful, rightfully angry black man, particularly one who upset many a white psyche. . . .these films might never have been made (or if they were, never distributed by any major studio) if it weren't for the charisma and star power of Washington himself. It may take a few more leaps before Hollywood awards black pride, _and_ its frequently necessary corollary, black fury, proper acknowledgment.
_Subverting STereotypes_
Until then, we have Washington's creativity to thank for shifting paradigms (rather than falling victim to them as Poitier did). For in his latest role, Washington has taken on the black antihero and made him a real human being, rather than the two dimensional, primitive demon he has too often been. . . .
In _Training Day_ . . .Washington plays Alonzo Harris, an ambitious yet jaded narcotics officer compromised by his own pragmatism. . . .Training Day is not Washington's _Guess Who's Coming to Dinner_. In fact, it is his antithetical response to that role, which came to define hsi predecessor Poitier's career. Whereas Poitier felt forced to do assimilationist blather at the height of his success, Denzel has leveraged his legitimacy both in the mainstream and among his black constituents in a way that is both drastic and daring.
Alonzo, a veteran of the Machiavellian war on drugs waged in the very communities he comes from, has grown into an accomplished cynic ready to get out of narcotics and apss the torch to Hoyt, in whom he sees promise. . . .
. . . .So on the face of it, you have a tried-and-true Hollywood cliche: Washington in the exaggerated trappings of the black stereotype (the gold, the slang, the walk, and talk), corrupting the lily white, saintly and blue-collar Hawke, who lives to see another day. . . .In the end, Alonzo is not evil because he's black, he's evil because he's corrupted by a system in which success and exploitation go hand in hand.
Unfortunately, the subtle success Washington achieves is lost, perhaps not surprisingly, on at least one of his reviewers (remember the lens). . . .Elvis Mitchell [NYT] couldn't resist poking a meager jab at Washington's performance (and indirectly and perhaps unknowingly, at black humanity). Drawing a comparison with a leading white man's portrayal of a burnt-out suburban dad in _American Beauty_, Mitchell proposes that "it's as if a black man isn't allowed to use irony in a performance, the same distancing device Kevin Spacey used to ride _American Beauty_ to an Oscar, commenting on the role while playing it." Here, we see how the subtlety of black resistance is too often lost in the white gaze. First of all, it is incredibly patronizing to suggest black actors must be "allowed" something to accomplish it. As has been demonstrated by Washington himself, life for any black person (actor or no) is necessarily about comment and critique (whether virbalized or acted out), and of course, a terribly real sense of the ironic.
Washington's latest role must not be viewed in a vacuum. Let's remember that the majority of mainstream roles Washington has taken were written for a white man. Most in fact, explicitly were. His role as a lawyer who defends an AIDS-stricken victim of discrimination in _Philadelphia_ was explicitly written for a white actor. John Grisham vehemently opposed Washington being cast as the lawyer who exposes the conspiracy behind a Supreme Court Justice's murder in _The Pelican Brief_, as he had imagined that character as white. In other instances, the race of the lead was not designated . . . .but it might as well have been. . . .
. . . .We must recall that Washington has not only played roles meant for white men, but he has helped make them black, meaning he has positioned race as fundamental rather than incidental. Take for example the scene in _The Pelican Brief_ where a black Dnzel could not get a cab when running after the (white) bad guys. Srike you as ironic? Think that part was written for a white guy? Let's just suppose Washington thought that scene might be educational to some of his audiences, and tremendously ironic to those in the know. They've got words for that kind of double achievement: comment, and critique.
Thanks to Washington, we may have moved one step closer to burying the tired stereotype of the black antihero. We may also have moved one step closer to resurrecting him, this time as a real human being. For that, he deserves more than an Oscar.