As Tallahassees pols, pundits and power brokers gathered around the TV Thursday night to reinforce opinions theyve already formed about the job performances of President Obama and Congress, a far more uplifting show unfolded at Ruby Diamond Auditorium.
Filmmaker Spike Lee was in town to give his directors cut on the meaning of life. The crowded house of mostly students hung on his every word. The kids eyes widened and their heads nodded in recognition as Lee, 54, described the recessionary summer between his sophomore and junior year.
It was 1977, and Lee, like his father and grandfather before him, was matriculating at Morehouse College. Between semesters he came home to Brooklyn. Summer employment for students was hard to come by, and long-term prospects not much better than they are now.
With time on his hands, Lee picked up a friends Super 8 camera and found his way to making a living, and, much more importantly, making a life.
At the end of sophomore year, Lee said, I was a C-minus student. I wasnt motivated. I was half-steppin, floating around. Through the lens, Lee began to see Brooklyn, and his future, in a new way as he recorded a first rough draft of the history that would be reflected in the movies he would one day make. There was the blackout and the lootin and disco and Son of Sam, Lee recalled. There were Bruce Lee movies. Youd walk by and see 5,000 kids doing flying kicks on 42nd Street."
Bit by bit, Lee realized that he could tell stories as compelling as the ones in the movies and Broadway shows his schoolteacher mother and jazz musician father had ferried him to as a child.
Back at Morehouse, and later at New York Universitys film school, where he is now on the faculty, Lee worked fingers to the bone alongside equally driven young talent. The credits on Spike Lee films are comprised largely of the friends Lee made as a graduate student and the film students he now teaches at NYU. They respect one another, and it shows in the theatrical releases they produce.
Its a sharp contrast to contemporary political theater, where the intergenerational transfer of wisdom and inspiration to do great work has devolved into whining and bickering among the twittering twerps of the chattering class.The Capitol crowd in Washington and Tallahassee would do well to heed the advice Spike Lee gave to the kids at Ruby Diamond: These are serious times, he said. Be committed. Own your craft.You might lose, but go down swinging.
Guest column: Florence Snyder is a corporate lawyer. She also consults on ethics and First Amendment issues. Contact her at lawyerflo@gmail.com.
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