Milk

Playing Harvey Milk, the first openly-gay individual elected to public office, Sean Penn is a bleeding heart. He is self-effacing, unabashedly flawed, inappropriate, and earnest. Above all he is charming as hell, even when, in one of the film’s first scenes, moaning about his pathetic failure to have accomplished anything of consequence at 40. This mid-life regret is short-lived, as he relocates to the foggy safe haven of San Francisco with his partner, Scottie (James Franco), in search of a “new scene” and newfound sense of purpose. What he finds is a stalwart homophobic presence among the San Francisco police force, and the inner conviction to combat such bigotry, lil’ old Castro camera shop owner though he may be.

Notoriously—and understandably—reticent with the press, Penn conversely surrenders himself to the characters under whose skin he temporarily resides. Burrowing deep into their emotional crevices, taking on their pronounced mannerisms, the actor’s talents are celebrated because they do justice to those he’s portraying, fictional or otherwise. Here, Penn must act with a smirk and a wink without turning into a caricature of Milk, or worse yet, playing into gay stereotypes that other straight actors often perpetuate. No, Penn’s performance is refined and his Milk is—excuse the phraseology—as straight-talking as they come.

Director Gus Van Sant (To Die For) leaves behind the feel-good fuzziness of Good Will Hunting in favor of a layered approach to framing this superb biopic. Oh sure, Milk will leave you feeling fuzzy at points, as the real Harvey continues to inspire the everyman (or everywoman, or every-transperson) to combat complacency and believe themselves capable of engendering great change, but sans heavy-handed sentimentality. In many ways, Milk resembles a yearbook, capturing snapshots of Harvey as he ascends from civilian to Anita Bryant-sparring politician, a charismatic force who won over disbelievers and found himself striding alongside Mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber) in the marbled corridors of San Francisco City Hall.

One of Van Sant’s risky choices was not casting an actress to play Miss Christian America herself, the immaculately bouffant-ed Bryant, but instead using archival footage of her hate-filled orations. Doing so is more effective than seeing a fictional rendering of Bryant; her speech was so ridiculous, so overblown, that only she herself, if only in stock video form, can stand as Milk’s foe in the movie. Other ‘70s footage is used, too, and it’s a real-life scene from Milk’s post-assassination candle march memorial that is the film’s most devastating imagery.

Penn is surrounded by a flock of handsome fellow thesps who rival, but cannot match, his shining performance. There is Franco as Scottie, Diego Luna as Milk’s cheeky Latin lover, Jack, a monstrously good Emile Hirsch as co-activist Cleve Jones, and Josh Brolin as clipped, tense assassin Dan White, better known then as city Supervisor (and better known now as spawning the “Twinkie Defense”).

Naturally, the most painful question surrounding Van Sant’s film is whether a pre-Election Day release would have swayed California’s Proposition 8 vote results. That’s an inquiry better left alone. Inspiration to take action and strive toward social change are part of Milk’s vital legacy. Examined as a piece of raw filmmaking, Milk is admirable, but if you share Harvey's ideals—among them a belief in equality, opportunity, and human rights for all—then the movie is a call to action. Van Sant and Penn are here to recruit you.

—Heidi Atwal
11.25.08

As the first openly gay man to hold elected office in California, Harvey Milk served as the spokesperson for the gay rights movement in the '70s, in San Francisco, and by extension, the United States. Practically from the moment of his assassination in 1978, people have been trying to get Milk's remarkable life story onto the screen, and thanks to Gus Van Sant and Sean Penn, it was worth the wait. The movie follows the final years of Milk's life, starting when he leaves New York with his significant other, Scott Smith (James Franco), and opens a camera store in the now famous Castro District of San Francisco. He faces bigotry based on his sexual orientation, but responds with serious action, spearheading a campaign of activism that organizes the gay community into a group with genuine financial strength -- a strength Milk translates into political muscle. With his leadership, the community publicizes the unfair treatment often suffered at the hands of cops, who are occasionally physically abusive, and often can't be bothered to investigate the murders of gay men. All the while, Milk continues his attempts to win a seat on the city's Board of Supervisors, even as his devotion to politics leads to the breakdown of his relationship.
Dustin Lance Black's screenplay never holds Harvey Milk up as something bigger than he was -- he's never made into a martyr or a saint. He's a heroic, but complicated, three-dimensional person, and Sean Penn rises to the occasion with an empathetic performance that never rings false. He captures the charisma and drive that made Milk a born politician just as cannily as he does the flaws that made him a difficult life partner, and the intimate moments Milk shares with Smith are just as heartfelt as the scenes where he rallies thousands of angry protestors to march on city hall. Penn also gets expert support from everyone in the cast, especially Franco, who plays Smith's loyalty as unwavering, even when the their relationship becomes so strained that he must move out. The film also benefits from a nuanced performance by Diego Luna, who plays Jack Lira, another longtime companion of Milk. Although Lira is a grandly flamboyant character, Luna never condescends to playing him as a drama queen -- his histrionics always seem to come from the character rather than from a stereotype. And Emile Hirsch shines as Cleve Jones, the brainy, energetic runaway who turns out to be Milk's political right-hand man. Of course, director Gus Van Sant matches his lead actor's total commitment to the project. He doesn't shy away from the story's occasional stabs at operatic impact, but instead employs a recurring visual motif using mirrors and reflections to help these moments achieve maximum emotional effect. We see major and minor events transpire in mirrors, windows, and other items -- the most striking of which is an argument with a police officer viewed in the reflection of a metal whistle. This visual refrain, along with the measured but consistent use of opera on the soundtrack, helps make the ending an emotional powerhouse -- even though we know right from the start how Milk's life will end. Harvey Milk embodied the concept that "all politics is personal," and by presenting the famed Mayor of Castro Street's personal and public lives with such clarity and empathy, Van Sant has made something very rare in Hollywood -- a genuinely powerful political film that works equally well as a story of personal triumph. ~ Perry Seibert, All Movie Guide