Gus Van Sant’s squarest work since
Finding Forrester, Milk turns out to be that rare,
heartfelt biopic disinterested in egregious chronological compression or psychological reductiveness. Gone is the avant-garde experimentation that
characterized much of Van Sant’s previous decade, here replaced by an
uncomplicated – if nonetheless finely crafted – aesthetic that conventionally
and empathetically considers its trailblazing subject’s final eight years,
during which he (Sean Penn) became disillusioned with his mundane 9-to-5 NYC
existence and, in 1972, moved to San Francisco’s burgeoning gay mecca, the
Castro District, in search of a greater purpose. His subsequent campaigns for
public office – culminating in his successful 1977 run for City Supervisor,
making him the country’s first openly gay elected official – forms the nucleus
of Van Sant’s film, a saga whose only excessive embellishment is an operatic
Danny Elfman score that italicizes the true story’s importance. Otherwise, save
for a few auteurist from-behind tracking shots (including a late one that
eerily echoes Elephant), Van Sant
mostly sticks to the facts, a tack that mercifully keeps the proceedings (aided
by some expertly integrated archival news clips) from devolving into
self-righteous mawkishness. Penn’s performance similarly avoids cheap
awards-baiting theatrics; his flamboyant mannerisms and earnest proclamations
of belief are infused with a respectful humanism, with the actor consistently
striving for accuracy and honesty rather than saintly lionization. The same
largely holds true for the rest of the supporting cast’s turns, including a
rather unbearable one by Diego Luna as Milk’s insecure, clingy, unstable
boyfriend Jack. From its loving portrait of 1970s San Francisco (its outrageous
fashions treated nonchalantly and its story free of the usual period-music
montages) to its even-handed treatment of Milk’s assassin, city government colleague Dan White (Josh Brolin), Milk engenders engagement through unfussy directness, a quality
that also allows its piercing present-day parallels – Milk’s repeated calls for
“hope,” and his fight against a California proposition aimed at criminalizing
homosexuality – to resonate with the force of a ten-ton hammer.
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