Deep in the heart of Spike Lee’s seventh feature is the increasing sense of change we can comprehend in the world we know. Lee doesn’t let this weigh down the joyous time of childhood summer and sibling dynamics, yet the ever-revolving soundtrack serves as the central constant reminder of what what Troy (Zelda Harris) would hear in the background through her life. As the speed at which Troy must mature accelerates, eventually taking up a maternal role by the time of her mom’s passing (the great Alfre Woodard), the soundtrack becomes more complex. This, combined with her time in suburban Virginia with Aunt Song (Frances Foster), makes pop culture become a distant memory along with her adolescence.
This is just one way to consider the masterful Crooklyn, a melancholy reflection into childhood which lingers on the moments we’d we can’t quite forget. It’s a rare combo for Lee; the film is neither plotty nor plotless, yet has so much to be explored outside the frame by the Carmichael children. Its such an evocative vision of 1973 and what Zelda remembers about being a kid as her childhood comes to an end (Spike Lee had to even teach the kids the games that were commonly played in a Brooklyn neighborhood). Lee doesn’t immediately choose to focus on Troy, as she initially blends in with the rest of the Carmichael kids, causing trouble like stealing one of her brothers’ Knicks tickets (obviously a surrogate for Spike himself). I’ve always loved this decision by Spike, since Crooklyn is seen as a journey to see where Troy fits in as a nine-year-old.
Her dad (the sensational Delroy Lindo) isn’t an absentee, but rather someone who believes in a creative career even as it’s taking longer to get going than he anticipated. Supporting his family and doing what he loves is a well-realized struggle, even while we don’t feel as though Lee wants to leave Troy’s POV. Even so, according to Lindo, he was very intimidated by working with children, as he had not done so before and did not have children of his own at the time; his innate tenderness makes up for the anxiety
Despite this being one of his gentler films, Lee doesn’t forget to fill the neighborhood with interesting inhabitants of the small community who leave an impression on us and Carmichael kids. Take, for example, David Patrick Kelly’s Tony Eyes, who is never overtly threatening to the Carmichaels, just deeply unaware and pathetic. It’s like it becomes a consistent cycle to where the kids trash his area, he yells about it to Carolyn, but she will always take the side of the kids even if she clearly knows they’re troublemakers. Or Spike Lee himself, playing a young glue-huffer named Snuffy, who likes to bully the local children, spooking Troy in her dreams as a person who she isn’t told how to think about. Carolyn and Woody aren’t seen to sit Troy down and explain people like the glue-huffers; rather Troy coming to her own conclusions is another way for Lee to communicate what we overlook with our childhood summers
Lee famously made a feature film a year or so in the ’90s: Mo’ Better Blues (1990), Jungle Fever (1991), Malcolm X (1992), Crooklyn (1994), Clockers (1995), Girl 6 (1996), Get on the Bus (1996), He Got Game (1998), Summer of Sam (1999). Crooklyn coming right after Malcolm X feels like a time to take a deep breath and reflect after his early career epic. Never mind that making both back-to-back meant Lee was planning on tackling completely opposite ends. Crooklyn isn’t confrontational, political, or angry like the film Lee made before it, yet both are the only PG-13 Spike Lee Joints. Resisting to duplicate himself throughout the ’90s makes this run one of the greatest for any filmmaker. Crooklyn continues to grow a so much love in the big picture of all of Lee’s filmography, there’s such a bold energy here which is desperately needed for the often recycled coming of age genre.
Crooklyn
1994
dir. Spike Lee
115 min.
Screens Wednesday, 8/24, and Thursday, 8/25, 9:30pm, @ Somerville Theatre
