海角大神

A couple of Saturdays ago, I found myself catching a night football game starring my beloved Florida A&M Rattlers. (Yes, I鈥檓 an alum.) Unexpectedly, a familiar face popped up on-screen: singer and actor Tyrese Gibson, a mainstay of the 鈥淔ast & Furious鈥� franchise.

鈥淲hat is he doing here?鈥� I asked myself. The jumbotron quickly answered. Mr. Gibson was on hand to promote his latest film, 鈥�1992.鈥� So I went to see it.

The film is a lot of things. It鈥檚 the legendary Ray Liotta鈥檚 last movie. It鈥檚 a crime-suspense thriller about a heist gone wrong. It鈥檚 an examination of fathers and sons, juxtaposing Mr. Gibson鈥檚 and Mr. Liotta鈥檚 roles as imperfect parents to adolescent and adult males. But it is also intentional about the actual event that defines the film: On April 29, 1992, a jury acquitted four Los Angeles police officers of assault in the brutal beating of Rodney King, a Black man. Violence followed.

That intrigued me from the outset. The events around the King verdict made 1992 an important year for the 鈥渓anguage of the unheard.鈥� It brought attention to the plight of those too often overlooked or ignored. How would the film address those elements of history?聽

1992 and 2020

At first, my reaction was one of association. The film 鈥�1992,鈥� of course, reminded me of 2020. It reminded me of the furor over George Floyd鈥檚 murder and how, for a moment, that inspired a nation to do better. Mr. Floyd鈥檚 story, along with those of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery, challenged how the justice system deals with Black people and held it to account.聽聽

The fervor of those days is visible in the film鈥檚 depiction of outrage, confusion, and despair in a Black community wrestling with such injustice.聽

But in that way, the movie also is a reminder of how that national urgency has abated. It is not building off a wave of outrage. It seeks to rekindle one 鈥� or at least to reawaken the discussion.

In its high points, it even strikes a contemplative tone. In one poignant scene, Mr. Gibson鈥檚 character and his son offer insight into what it means for people to riot and cause damage in their own communities. Is an antiestablishment, 鈥渇ight the power鈥� sentiment essential? Or does it only make rebuilding harder in a community already struggling with limited resources and fractured trust?

When the historian in me watches 鈥�1992,鈥� he sees a pattern.

Just as Mr. Floyd鈥檚 murder happened close to 30 years after the King beating and verdict, the King unrest happened three decades after the similar events in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Watts. In mid-August 1965, an argument between a Black motorist, Marquette Frye, and a white police officer escalated into nearly a week of rioting. The incident inspired leaders of the Southern 海角大神 Leadership Conference, such as Martin Luther King Jr., to widen their gaze beyond the South.

But what happened in Watts, and then after the King verdict, and then again after the murder of Mr. Floyd? Was there unrest, including violence and rioting? Yes. But also rebellion.

Rioting and community angst is never unprovoked. Elizabeth Hinton鈥檚 beautiful book 鈥淎merica on Fire鈥� looks at the untold history of police violence and Black rebellion since the 1960s, as the subtitle puts it. It states, 鈥淭he history of Black rebellion across regions and decades demonstrates a fundamental reality: police violence precipitates community violence.鈥�

Gibson鈥檚 standout performance

In 鈥�1992,鈥� this spirit is best embodied in Mr. Gibson, who often redeems the film from its inconsistencies. In other moments, for example, Black characters are treated like fodder for a middling plot and discarded when that script falls apart.

Mr. Gibson鈥檚 performance is an extension of the press appearances he made ahead of the film. His intent to promote the stories of Black people came off as refreshingly honest. 鈥淏lack men cry,鈥� he offered during one appearance, where he talked about grief, divorce, and his mother鈥檚 passing.

I can still remember the 1994 ad in which Mr. Gibson got his start, singing the praises of Coca-Cola on a city bus. Here, he shows how much has changed, tapping into the angst of a historic time period and delivering one of his most important performances on-screen. As an actor, he has evolved, grown, matured.

I would like to think this country is capable of a similar transformation. To claim it, we must acknowledge that the events of 1992 are but part of a pattern 鈥� a greater and sadder tale. At the end of the film, a refrain from the late Donny Hathaway鈥檚 鈥淟ittle Ghetto Boy鈥� plays over the closing credits and resonates: 鈥淓verything has got to get better.鈥�