Green Book
Starring Viggo Mortensen, Mahershala Ali
Directed by Peter Farrelly
Reviewed by Michael Dalton
[rating: 2/5]
Wikipedia: The Negro Motorist Green Book, a mid-20thcentury guidebook for African-American travellers written by Victor Hugo Green, to help them find motels and restaurants that would accept them.
I can’t remember the last time an award season favourite was as ripe for parody as Peter Farrelly’s calculated race relations comedy Green Book is. Race relations comedy! I suppose Mr. Farrelly, he of the Dumb and Dumber comedies, thought he was going the Tarantino route by trying to make light of such a sensitive issue but all he’s managed to do here is condescend to the matter by way of a literal, spoonfeeding screenplay and that, in and of itself, is what makes the film so offensive. This is a tailored movie, with every i dotted.
Set in 1962 and based on true events, the story concerns a racist, free-with-his-fists white nightclub bouncer who just happens to be a dedicated masticator (many of the big laughs are meant to spring from just how much southern fried chicken this gorilla can jam into his gaping jaws), and a talented, charmingly snooty black musician who has hired him to play chauffeur and bodyguard as he takes a performance tour through the Deep South where racist bullies are ostensibly lying in wait. The fact that that the events presented here are true sets the film up comfortably but what we end up with is Driving Mr. Daisy. And yet, as contrived and predictable as it is, all is not lost for at centre stage and hijacking the film effortlessly is Mahershala Ali, a performer who knows about closeups, pitch, restraint, and stillness. What a disappointment it is his leading man Viggo Mortensen, who plays his bodyguard, didn’t take a beat and watch. He gobbles up the scenery and his dialogue as aggressively as he does his chicken. Cinematographer Sean Porter must have been terrified. His camera might’ve been next.
Ali is Dr. Don Shirley, a wealthy, classical pianist for a trio and when we first meet him in his lavish, treasure-laden apartment, he’s resplendent in African robes and while conducting the initial interview with Bronx born Tony Vallelonga, also known as Tony Lip (guess how he earned that nickname), he sits on what appears to be a throne. It doesn’t go well. Tony feels he has the wrong “goy” but after a little persistence, the seatbelts are fastened and scene-by-scene, Tony starts to develop an understanding of and even some empathy for his charge. The letters Tony writes home to his wife are a grammatical nightmare so the elegant and educated Don becomes his Cyrano, he scolds Tony for swearing and littering, even cultured people treat the good doctor with racism (no inside toilet for him) while applauding his talent, and soon enough, Don finally gets stuck into the fried chicken too. All the way down the highway Tony has been gorging on it by the bucketload thus inviting bitchy comments from the backseat but eventually, Don, who can’t imagine eating with his fingers (“so unsanitary”), finally takes the challenge. Watch his eyes light up. Its as if they struck gold in Alabama.
It really is a mystery quite what to make of this film. Projected as a dramatic, heartbreaking lesson in racial tolerance, it just won the Golden Globe for Best Comedy and it seems poised to repeat its success at the upcoming Academy Awards but one can only wonder if its being saluted because its time for Oscar to simply bow down in acknowledgement again. If you want to see a film that honestly examines American race relations, hunt down Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman, an expertly directed film that credits your intelligence. Farrelly’s film is in black and white. Lee’s film is in technicolour.
