Selma

There can be great power in picture, or word, or song. And sometimes the three can be perfectly synchronized, with the impact of one added completely to the other, and the other. This is not always the case with films, even when a movie is treating a subject of great significance. Often the power of a story, or the depiction of a piece of history, is not magnified by a film's components much beyond what we already know. But Selma is one of the exceptions to this norm – it definitely moves the needle. The physicist would call what I describe above “constructive interference” – the synced superposition of multiple energy waves (light or water or other) to form a resultant that has greater magnitude than its parts. Selma rolled over me, the peaks of its wave much higher and valleys much lower than expected even for a re-telling of such a dramatic and pivotal period of American history.

Selma benefits, I believe, from not having to cover the whole Martin Luther King Jr. story. Instead, the film's power is packed into the three months surrounding the civil rights protest march from Selma Alabama to the State’s capital, Montgomery, in 1965. The march was organized in protest of severe discrimination in access to voting in the south. The Civil Rights Act, outlawing discrimination based on race and color, had been signed in 1964. Black people could legally vote in 65, but numerous racial local policies kept most from even being able to register in the south. Director Ava DuVernay and screenwriter Paul Webb show us both the front and back of this time, marching us into the raw emotions of the many protesting in the streets and the incomprehensible cruelty visited on them, but also through the nasty political juggling of the few power players in the back rooms. All are laid bare to some degree in Selma. King’s (David Oyelowo) charisma is displayed along side his flaws and weaknesses, and, most interestingly, his doubts about the outcome of his cause and even in his ability to carry it through. President Lyndon Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) is portrayed as more an adversary than an ally to King, coming at this issue of life-changing magnitude with the same long-term goal as King, but from a different world – as Johnson reminded King in one heated exchange, “you’re an activist and I’m a politician… you’ve got one big issue and I have a hundred and one.” Johnson knew he needed public sentiment to gather sufficient momentum before he could introduce and pass a voting rights bill and King knew that it could not wait. DuVernay’s portrayal of the impasse is impressive as is Oyelowo’s and Wilkinson’s portrayal of the two main characters in the struggle.

There are many imperial scenes in Selma – the act of terrorism that ignites the story, the impasse at the Edmund Pettus Bridge, King being confronted by his wife, Coretta (Carmen Ejogo) on past infidelities – and Oyelowo is in the best of them. He’s not on the list of best actor nominees but he probably should be. The bottom line is that you should see this film, and not just because of the importance of the subject matter. Somebody said to me before I saw Selma that I really was going to have to like the film because of what it was about. Yes, I benefited from being reminded of the events, both terrible and wonderful, of this turning point in American history, but DuVernay’s telling of it burned them into me, the actors held them hard to me so I could not forget them. 9 out of 10.