Be careful what you wish for. Fans have long been clamoring for legendary indie filmmaker, Spike Lee, to return to his roots after taking a substantial break to dabble in Hollywood and crank out some truly important documentaries. With Lee's signature, sun-kissed style he explored the racial, socio-political, and religious inner workings of Brooklyn like none other, his unique voice leading to a number of unquestioned classics. While many have billed Red Hook Summer as follow-up to his 1989 gem, Do the Right Thing, it bears a resemblance only aesthetically, but certainly not in quality or relevance.
When dealing with a filmmaker as influential as Spike Lee, the hardest part is trying not to compare his current work to what came before. Well, that's pretty easy because Red Hook Summer doesn't deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as its companions in Lee's famed Chronicles of Brooklyn series. Looking like a film school project gone horribly awry, Red Hook Summer is an aimless and grating mess that manages to be both preachy and insubstantial at the same time. A rare feat, indeed.
Co-written by Lee and James McBride, who last worked together on the disappointing Miracle at St. Anna, Red Hook Summer appears to be a combination of both men's experiences growing up in the titular borough. The story, such as it is, follows Flik Royale(an emotionless Jules Brown), a 13-year old Atlanta native with a Gumby haircut(people still have those?) who for reasons unknown is sent off to Red Hook to stay the summer with the grandfather he's never met, Bishop Enoch Rouse(a charismatic Clarke Peters). The two couldn't be more different if they tried, and Flik with his atheist, vegan, upper middle-class values certainly makes for an ill fit in the hard scrabble Red Hook. Enoch is an old school, fire and brimstone preacher who swears by the Good Book, cares deeply for his close-knit community of flawed followers, and leads a rousing service in his broken down old church.The first thing that becomes apparent about Red Hook Summer is that all of Lee's fiery passion is nowhere to be found. In a way, the exploratory, slice-of-life approach is more reminiscent of Crooklyn than the palpable rage of Do the Right Thing, only lacking the former's clear narrative focus. Ostensibly, the story is about the ideological struggle between Flik and Enoch, as the pastor vows to introduce the boy to Jesus by forcing him to work at the church. But there's no real conflict there, just a lot of sermonizing and Flik running the streets with Chazz(the irritating Toni Lysaith), a loud and sassy girl his age in desperate need of speech therapy. Flik is constantly filming everything around him from behind his Ipad 2, which he insists on telling everyone about as if they don't have technology in the 'hood. The local drug dealers, in particular a thug named Box(Nate Parker), don't take too kindly to being recorded. None of this ever amounts to much of anything. There's simply no conflict, no dramatic tension. Instead we get long-winded, meandering conversations about AIDS, rap music, gentrification, but without any real insight or impact.
We're never given much of a reason to care about Flik, and Jules Verne isn't an experienced enough actor to make us care. It's indicative of the film's aimlessness, considering this is basically a coming of age story. Truth be told, it appears that Lee and McBride used the presence of Flik as a callback to some of his earlier work, because seeing the world through the eyes of a youth has been one of Lee's tried and true tactics. What he's really interested in is Enoch's spiritual journey, and Clarke Peters gives an incredible, Oscar-worthy performance that shines brighter amongst the rank amateurs he's surrounded by. He paints the perfect picture of a man who has utterly given himself to a higher purpose, but the commanding Peters also leaves subtle hints of desperation just underneath. It's unclear whether his devotion comes out of concern for Red Hook or for himself, and it's that question which should have been explored further.
Frustrating glimpses of Lee's visual brilliance pop up only occasionally. Lee's infamous dolly cam punctuates a particularly tense scene as the story takes a pitch black, scandalous turn. Vintage footage of Brooklyn is mixed clumsily with digital photography that just doesn't have the same resonance as in Lee's previous work, perhaps because the characters portrayed within are so poorly drawn. He doesn't get any support from his usual collaborator, Bruce Hornsby, who provides a distracting soundtrack that feels pulled from some other movie. Certainly it doesn't fit with whatever tone Red Hook Summer was trying to achieve. Perhaps Hornsby was confused, too.As usual, characters from some of Lee's other films are sprinkled in for glorified cameos. The return of Mookie is especially egregious, but others are just as pointless. An appearance by Isiah Whitlock basically to just drop his one cool catchphrase from HBO's The Wire is just.....mystifying. It's like Lee was pandering to an audience he knows he lost somewhere along the way.
Red Hook Summer fails on such a level that it's fair to wonder if Lee has run out of things to say. Has he stopped evolving as a filmmaker, as all must to stay relevant? This isn't the first film he's made that landed with a loud thud, although it may be the hardest one to forgive and forget.
