"Mo' Better Blues" is Spike Lee's immediate follower of the unanimously acclaimed "Do the Right Thing". And if not 'Mo' Better' than the glorious predecessor, Lee still 'did the right thing' by tackling a less political subject and pay a beautiful tribute to jazz music through one of the most under-appreciated performances of the 90's: Denzel Washington as Bleek Gilliam, the trumpet player.
"Do the Right Thing" also coincided with the year Washington won his first Oscar for his performance as the tormented Afro-American soldier questioning the value of his engagement with the Yankees. As Bleek, Washington not only shows a more light-hearted facet of his acting range, but also proves a unique ability to portray men driven by anger, selfishness but with enough pride and confidence to win our respect. His characters might be flawed but we understand them and the emotional pay-off is that they ultimately try to change, for the best, closing some fascinating characters' arcs, among which Bleek isn't an exception.
Bleek is interesting because he crystallizes the curse of making constantly bad choices, and by 'bad' I mean 'tragic', even more because only the scope of a life highlight them. And "Mo' Better Blues" spans thirty years of Bleek's life so we have glimpses on the devastating effects of the most benign choices. It opens in 1969 when Bleek's friends urge him to come play softball, but it is trumpet which he must play, under his mother's tyrannic supervision. His father coerces her to let the boy be a boy, but he's too busy watching TV to be listened to. The kids finally leave, calling Bleek a 'sissy', Bleek resumes playing with much reluctance.
The immediate ellipse endorses the mother's authoritarian education; Bleek became a handsome trumpet player with a way with women, leader of a quintet featuring Shadow Henderson (Wesley Snipes) the saxophone player, Bill Nunn in the bass and Giancarlo Esposito in the piano. What a great delight to watch all these actors joined interacting in the artist's room. The list would be incomplete without Spike Lee who plays Giant, an ironic name for the vertically challenged manager of the band. Anyway, life seems to smile to Bleek, but all the film's stylish shots can't hide behind the shadowy and smoothly designed atmosphere, the presages of an imminent downfall.
"Mo' Better Blues" chronicles a series of bad choices made by a man not by lack of luck or intelligence, but because his ego and certitudes prevent him from realizing the harm he causes to his entourage, and ultimately, to himself. Bleek is too blinded by his leadership to understand that it might not last, especially with such a promising sax player, who proves his value every night through outstanding solos. He's too caught up by his friendship with Giant he lets him ruin the band's career. Giant is a gambler who makes the wrong bets, who fails to convince the club owners Moe and Josh Flatbush (John and Nicholas Turturro) to renegotiate the contract, and much more, who gets no respect because of his diminutive size. Not stupid or unlucky, but Bleek's tragedy is that his best friend is. Spike Lee perfectly plays Giant, the lovable loser.
But Bleek is also the architect of his own demise, notably on the love department. He dates two women who couldn't have been more opposite: Cynda Williams as Clarke Bettencourt, a glamorous, light-skinned artist whose dream is to be Bleek's Muse and sing for him but she can't break the iced gate of his own ego forcing Bleek to turn the subject into a "Mo'Better" moment, a classy euphemism for sex. But it is interrupted when she accidentally bites Bleek's very tool of work: his lip, confirming the impossible junction of work and passion. But Clarke's pleas find echoes in Shadow and her character magnificently blooms when she sings a sweet ballad for Shadow's quartet (guess who misses?) and proves Bleek wrong. But his heart belongs to Indigo (Joie Lee), the less glamorous but more dedicated woman who patiently endures his rejections.
We know they're meant for each other, but Bleek is still obsessed with Clarke's body, the highest in the hierarchy of beauty standards in the black community. Realistically, it's only when Bleek's career is over that he seeks Indigo's help, and she knows. Paying the highest price of being Giant's friend, his lip is permanently hurt by two loan sharks. By the way, the film tactfully avoids the ridiculous triumphant comeback cliché invited to join the band by Shadow, Bleek can't play correctly and leaves the stage forever, the heart full of pain and humiliation. All he's got left is Indigo, and she only accepts after he begs her to ''save his life', which means that he finally triumphed over his own ego.
Part choice, part luck, the film subtly parallels life with jazz music, which is one third- dedication, one third-inspiration and one-third improvisation, Bleek was too dedicated to himself to see how listening to the others could help him. I could relate to Bleek for I had my share of bad choices, for I'm still trusting my best friend to whom I owe many of the biggest problems I have (and he's still a friend) for even with my future wife, I kept lusting about other more voluptuous women, while I still know that she was the one. I remember an old man who hardly knew me but said "there's something erroneous" about me. Now, I knew what he meant and this is something I can also say about Bleek, hoping that, like him, my life will change positively.
And the ending says it all when the exact opening scene is recreated, only this time, Bleek lets his son go play with his friend, probably realizing that one simple choice can have one hell of an effect on one's life, and not repeating the same mistakes is already a way to succeed.
"Do the Right Thing" also coincided with the year Washington won his first Oscar for his performance as the tormented Afro-American soldier questioning the value of his engagement with the Yankees. As Bleek, Washington not only shows a more light-hearted facet of his acting range, but also proves a unique ability to portray men driven by anger, selfishness but with enough pride and confidence to win our respect. His characters might be flawed but we understand them and the emotional pay-off is that they ultimately try to change, for the best, closing some fascinating characters' arcs, among which Bleek isn't an exception.
Bleek is interesting because he crystallizes the curse of making constantly bad choices, and by 'bad' I mean 'tragic', even more because only the scope of a life highlight them. And "Mo' Better Blues" spans thirty years of Bleek's life so we have glimpses on the devastating effects of the most benign choices. It opens in 1969 when Bleek's friends urge him to come play softball, but it is trumpet which he must play, under his mother's tyrannic supervision. His father coerces her to let the boy be a boy, but he's too busy watching TV to be listened to. The kids finally leave, calling Bleek a 'sissy', Bleek resumes playing with much reluctance.
The immediate ellipse endorses the mother's authoritarian education; Bleek became a handsome trumpet player with a way with women, leader of a quintet featuring Shadow Henderson (Wesley Snipes) the saxophone player, Bill Nunn in the bass and Giancarlo Esposito in the piano. What a great delight to watch all these actors joined interacting in the artist's room. The list would be incomplete without Spike Lee who plays Giant, an ironic name for the vertically challenged manager of the band. Anyway, life seems to smile to Bleek, but all the film's stylish shots can't hide behind the shadowy and smoothly designed atmosphere, the presages of an imminent downfall.
"Mo' Better Blues" chronicles a series of bad choices made by a man not by lack of luck or intelligence, but because his ego and certitudes prevent him from realizing the harm he causes to his entourage, and ultimately, to himself. Bleek is too blinded by his leadership to understand that it might not last, especially with such a promising sax player, who proves his value every night through outstanding solos. He's too caught up by his friendship with Giant he lets him ruin the band's career. Giant is a gambler who makes the wrong bets, who fails to convince the club owners Moe and Josh Flatbush (John and Nicholas Turturro) to renegotiate the contract, and much more, who gets no respect because of his diminutive size. Not stupid or unlucky, but Bleek's tragedy is that his best friend is. Spike Lee perfectly plays Giant, the lovable loser.
But Bleek is also the architect of his own demise, notably on the love department. He dates two women who couldn't have been more opposite: Cynda Williams as Clarke Bettencourt, a glamorous, light-skinned artist whose dream is to be Bleek's Muse and sing for him but she can't break the iced gate of his own ego forcing Bleek to turn the subject into a "Mo'Better" moment, a classy euphemism for sex. But it is interrupted when she accidentally bites Bleek's very tool of work: his lip, confirming the impossible junction of work and passion. But Clarke's pleas find echoes in Shadow and her character magnificently blooms when she sings a sweet ballad for Shadow's quartet (guess who misses?) and proves Bleek wrong. But his heart belongs to Indigo (Joie Lee), the less glamorous but more dedicated woman who patiently endures his rejections.
We know they're meant for each other, but Bleek is still obsessed with Clarke's body, the highest in the hierarchy of beauty standards in the black community. Realistically, it's only when Bleek's career is over that he seeks Indigo's help, and she knows. Paying the highest price of being Giant's friend, his lip is permanently hurt by two loan sharks. By the way, the film tactfully avoids the ridiculous triumphant comeback cliché invited to join the band by Shadow, Bleek can't play correctly and leaves the stage forever, the heart full of pain and humiliation. All he's got left is Indigo, and she only accepts after he begs her to ''save his life', which means that he finally triumphed over his own ego.
Part choice, part luck, the film subtly parallels life with jazz music, which is one third- dedication, one third-inspiration and one-third improvisation, Bleek was too dedicated to himself to see how listening to the others could help him. I could relate to Bleek for I had my share of bad choices, for I'm still trusting my best friend to whom I owe many of the biggest problems I have (and he's still a friend) for even with my future wife, I kept lusting about other more voluptuous women, while I still know that she was the one. I remember an old man who hardly knew me but said "there's something erroneous" about me. Now, I knew what he meant and this is something I can also say about Bleek, hoping that, like him, my life will change positively.
And the ending says it all when the exact opening scene is recreated, only this time, Bleek lets his son go play with his friend, probably realizing that one simple choice can have one hell of an effect on one's life, and not repeating the same mistakes is already a way to succeed.