Da 5 Bloods is a Reckoning With the Historical, Personal, and Political

In 2014 Urban Outfitters—ever the provocative brand—sold a sweatshirt with small holes and patchy red dye that simply read: Kent State University. This caught the eye of anyone who remembered (or remembered learning about) the 1970 massacre when four students at Kent State University were shot dead by the United States National Guard while protesting the Vietnam War. Understandably, the outrage was potent, and, eventually, Urban Outfitters pulled the shirt. Besides the cynicism of Urban Outfitters, which we all know is constant and not unique at all to that particular shirt, the thing that stuck out to me was the number of people in my peer group who actually didn’t know about Kent State. At least one of which who had APPLIED to the school. The lack of any kind of deep historical knowledge about this time period is very widespread amongst my generation (those born in the late 80s to early 90s) and I think that’s partly due to the massive uprising of a multitude of grievances, questionable (at best) government choices, public figures who require more than the two paragraphs per semester they’re allotted, and, probably to some degree, a total lack of interest in the era. Given the way the country (and the world, really) is reacting to the issues of our day I argue it is worth revisiting this time period in detail. This is exactly what Spike Lee does in his new film Da 5 Bloods—with a picture of Kent State University front and center in the opening credits.

Let’s talk about those opening credits. Images and video (some incredibly violent) flash across the screen over the title sequence, forcing the viewer to reckon with the legacy of the fight for Civil Rights, the legacy of The Vietnam War, and even the legacy of Nixon and his administration. This is where Spike sets the tone: bluntness. If the viewer is not on board with seeing the literal footage of Phan Thi Kim Phuc (the Napalm Girl) or the shooting of Nguyen Van Lem then they are absolutely not going to be on board with the rest of the film. In some ways, this technique is effective as it does immediately implicate the viewer. Anyone watching is being confronted with a history and past that is and will always haunt the world. And you have to grapple with it, you have to think about, looking away and not remembering is not an option that Lee gives his audience. The historical footage and imagery, the name drops, these are techniques that Lee has used to some degree or another before but this time it is louder: the frame is grabbing the audience by the head, forcing us to stare it straight in the eye, and saying “don’t forget me. DEAL WITH ME.” To some extent, that is what all five of the film’s characters are doing for the duration. Four of them are Black Vietnam veterans searching for both treasure and the remains of their fallen squad leader and one of them is a veteran’s son searching for the love and acceptance from his father that he was never given. All of these characters are trying to find healing and closure. The trauma of these characters runs so deep that it is multigenerational—an important element oft-forgotten in the Vietnam conversation.

The film has a run time of two and a half hours to explore its many themes and ideas, which may have been mismanaged. A lot of time is spent on one particular character, Delroy Lindo’s Paul, and his blistering anger pointed in any direction that suits him. Lindo carries the movie on his performance (though all are excellent) and accurately explores guilt and pain and rage within someone who was never properly equipped to deal with these things. As we follow Paul we are constantly feeling the eggshells under our feet. We don’t know when he’s going to explode. This centers us right into the emotional state of his son David, played by Jonathan Majors. The dynamic between these two characters is complicated. So is the relationship between the shadow of the Vietnam War (and everything else in its era) and The United States. This generational conflict and its almost symbolic function within the film is the most effective part of Lee’s mission of forcing a personal and political reckoning from the viewer, but it’s surrounded by distractions and subplots.

When Da 5 Bloods is not focusing on Paul and his mental state it is focusing on an illegitimate child plotline, a treasure hunt, and a backstabbing side character. All of these stories bring their own commentary and are valid avenues of exploration but they feel weak and distracting next to the deeper character exploration the film follows. Parts of every one of the film’s acts are tainted by incomplete thoughts or outlandish screenplay. Most potently, however, is the confusing last act. Everything comes to a head and almost full circle all at once, and each character’s fate is individually summed up. Besides many of those plot points being ridiculous, and arguably tonally inappropriate, this runs antithetical to the core of the film. There has been not a final, neat-and-tidy resolution to most American history—least of which the 60s and early 70s. Da 5 Bloods goes into great detail to remind the viewer of this and to make them feel like they need to personally consider the consequences of said history: from abandoned land mines still being used against civilians to the specific injustices faced by African American troops at home and abroad (and how North Vietnam used this to their advantage), to why the war even happened in the first place. By allowing us to have some level of emotional closure the film undercuts itself. I would like to think that the lack of cohesive tone or direction throughout the film is a reflection of the American psyche and the legacies that we should all be grappling with. However, that view is challenged by an ending that tries to make everything better so quickly, without any real work, relying on a long-lost stash of money.

The high voltage beginning and sentimental ending sandwich a tumultuous middle. Lee shows flashbacks of war semi-frequently—shot with grainy footage and a different aspect ratio. The best (and most curious) part of these scenes is how the characters are not played by younger actors or with any de-aging technology. Instead, they are played by the older men as though the traumatic experiences are happening in the heads of the characters as they navigate the present rather than what actually happened in the past. It is a technique that is divisive, though effective in continuing to develop the emotional burden carried by these four men. The group becomes divisive, which is another plot-point held in contention. There are multiple ways to read this element: the bond was only held together by the squad leader, money corrupts, trauma is divisive, and some personalities are too far gone. Any (or all) of these could be correct. None of these points are bad ones to make either, but they are made with such camp that it’s hard to really take any of them seriously. That is, until something monumental and serious, like intense parental instinct, kicks in for a heart stopping 10 minutes and reminds everyone watching that this is a movie bursting with talent and skill.

Da 5 Bloods is messy. It is discombobulated and scattered. But so is the mind of every person trying to articulate themselves, their feelings, and their pain right now. This makes it, at least so far, the quintessential movie of 2020. Earlier this month a Vox commentator exclaimed via Twitter that it was not the press’s job to convey history; rather, it was their job to report CURRENT events. This was a jarringly short sited look at reporting a pandemic, recession, protests, war, and Civil Rights. This is not our first time around any of these blocks. All of these are deeply historical issues with real consequences and background of suffering, exploitation, struggle, and trauma. In order to understand and scratch the surface of making sense of the world we are currently living in, it is imperative that we remember the mistakes and triumphs that came before us. No one has ever accused Spike Lee of being subtle. His films are always like someone is shouting at you while standing three inches away; for many of us, that is what makes them enjoyable. Even in his 1989 masterpiece Do The Right Thing his dutch-angled characters break the fourth wall to remind the viewer of exactly why they’re watching this piece of art. History matters to Lee, both as a learning tool and an indictment. The moments where he tries to make it matter to us too are the moments when this movie really shines. As a film, it may not be the highest rated or the best crafted (in fact, it isn’t) but as a piece of statement art, it is undeniably effective. It is essential to remember history and mourn those that our memories have left behind. If the last several weeks have taught us anything it’s that our understanding of these issues need to continue to be broadened and personalized if we are ever going to conduct positive change. A lot of people have exclaimed curiosity about this film, which was being worked on over a year ago, and how it is so timely. Of course, this is a relevant movie because our history is a relevant topic. This movie is always relevant. These issues are deep and permeate across society. They don’t just go away. Until we deal with the pain of history it will always be relevant. No one should feel surprised. So, while it is hard to watch at times, and poorly constructed in others, Da 5 Bloods is a reckoning with the historical, the personal, and the political. And it is a reckoning worth having.