For his second film, Spike Lee went big – and nostalgic. An alum of Morehouse, the writer-director set his (quasi)musical during Homecoming Weekend at Mission College, a fictional Historically Black University. It’s a busy three days. Activist Dap (Laurence Fishburne) agitates for the school to divest from South Africa. Gamma Phi Gamma honcho Julian (Giancarlo Esposito) puts pledges through hell week. Among the hopefuls: Half Pint, played by Lee. Lee took a much-rewarded chance on Tisha Campbell, casting her as Jane. She’s Julian’s squeeze and the head of the Gamma Rays, a mean-girl contingent that supports the frat. “Westside Story” was an inspiration: Light-skin Wannabees square off with darker hued Jigaboos ala Jets and Sharks in a number called “Straight and Nappy.” There are glimmers of 1976’s “Sparkle.” Sony stepped in and up when initial funding got pulled. It did the right thing. As loving as it is astute, the movie celebrates black college. Even as its depiction of the internecine battles of black folk is prescient. Think Dear White People. Long before “Woke” became a thing, Dap summoned Mission’s student body and administrators — looking like sleepwalkers — to the campus square to “Wake up.” 

Devil in a Blue Dress is one of Denzel Washington’s best films. As Ezekiel “Easy” Rawlins, Washington is a migrant from Texas, a Black man in Los Angeles, just trying to make it in a 1940s world. A job lost and need for work to pay his mortgage leads to all kinds of mayhem that gets him trapped between the color line and possibly charged with multiple murders. Just like Washington’s acting, Carl Franklin’s adaptation and directing is top notch in this film noir. From the look and feel to the wardrobe and music, Franklin doesn’t miss a beat. Performances by Don Cheadle as Mouse, a breakout role for him, and the often-forgotten Lisa Nicole Carson as Coretta are just spectacular. It’s a delicious film that’s always delightful to watch, regardless of how many times you may have seen it. And, if you’re watching it for the first time, oh boy, lay back and relax because this one is a treat for the eyes and the soul.

While there have been several movies that address interracial relationships, none are as hopeful as Stanley Kramer’s “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.” A seemingly precarious circumstance – John Prentice, a black doctor (Sidney Poitier) meets Joanna Drayton, a young white woman (Katharine Houghton) while on vacation, and after a whirlwind courtship decide to get married and seek the blessings of their respective parents. From the onset, the story is full of humor and dignity. Keenly aware of the state of the world, yet never losing sight of the ideal of a love that pushes beyond the confines of race in a time where such unions were frowned upon and illegal. Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn as Matt and Christina Drayton respectively, give truly memorable and honest performances as Joanna’s parents capturing the fears and desires of parents forced to come to terms with their daughter’s rather hasty decision. Equally, Roy E. Glenn and Beah Richards as John’s upper-class parents provide a counterbalance to the Draytons. More importantly we see a complexity of issues that bubble up regarding interracial relationships from both sides. These conversations had been illustrated in films like “One Potato, Two Potato” and “Island in the Sun,” and countless others, but in this lighthearted film, the discussions between families, fathers, mothers, and the supporting cast add voice in both protest and acceptance to the likes unseen before on screen. The issues go beyond race as the film adds scenes that reflect the changing times with poingnant moments that illustrate points of bigotry versus acceptance, and traditional ideology versus progress. William Rose script is pure genius. The dialog is sharp, eloquent and simple. No word is extraneous because the issue at hand is too important – not a single syllable is without purpose. Whether understanding the intent of John towards Joanna by housekeeper, Tillie (Isabel Sanford), or the assuredness of change from Monsignor Ryan (Cecil Kellaway), Rose makes each character’s moment relevant to the crux of the story.

“Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” was the last collaboration between Hepburn and Tracy. It is said the actor filmed the movie even while his health was failing because he felt it was important. Unfortunately, Tracy died before the landmark Loving v. Virginia decision and months before the film’s release in December, 1967.  “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” will forever be a clever story that dares to question the status quo on race and interracial relationships that set precedence then, holds up today, and marks as a cornerstone for remakes, variations and similarly inspired, socially relevant cinema.

John Singleton’s 1995 film, Higher Learning, brings the adage of college being a microcosm of the world to life. Looking back at, arguably, his most overlooked film, it’s hard to miss the similarities of then to right now, particularly social issues like racial polarization, the threat of white power groups, need for gun control, sexual assault and systemic racism. Some may call it prescient, while others will note it affirmation of the changing same. A Black college student athlete, in this instance Omar Epps as Malik Williams, trying to find his way at Columbus University where Black students are subjected to a constant barrage of microaggressions is not a reality of the past. Neither are school shootings, racial bias in college curriculums, financial difficulties and more. Sadly, racism, sexism and violence have not disappeared. Laurence Fishburne, Ice Cube, Regina King, Michael Rapaport, Kristy Swanson, Busta Rhymes and Jennifer Connelly round out a film that may just come second to Boyz N the Hood for its blistering social commentary.

The plot – two down-on-their-luck artist portrayed by Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor are arrested for a bank robbery they did not commit and sentenced to serve over 100 years in prison. How they survive prison and pursue their freedom make up the slapstick antics that ripple through “Stir Crazy”, the second of several Pryor and Wilder collaborations. As basic as the plot may seem the comedic duo cleverly lampoons the country’s criminal justice system, and prisons.  As the story progresses within the prison, its where the duo craft some of their best work. The set ups from Wilder and the nervous, understated punchlines from Pryor land every time. It’s improvisation at its very best. Wilder’s character Skip is steeped in optimism yet illustrates the blindness to injustices his entitlement affords him. Conversely, Pryor’s Harry is practical and often cynical. His presence is the splash of bitter reality of systemic issues the two constantly find themselves in. And yet it works – it’s the two sides of the coin that makes the prison break film turned comedy so good. Directed by Sidney Poitier from a script penned by Bruce Jay Friedman, it is apparent Poitier allowed the story to breathe and give his principles the space to pull humor from behind bars.  Its undeniable the chemistry between the two comedic actors and a talented supporting cast including Georg Stanford Brown, Charles Weldon, JoBeth Williams, Craig T. Nelson, and Barry Corbin that makes “Stir Crazy” one of the duo’s best films.

Sidney Poitier and Harry Belafonte bring powder-keg chemistry to this 1972 western. Buck (Poitier)  organizes wagon trains for former slaves headed West. As a slippery preacher-man, Belafonte carries a Bible that houses more than the gospels and has been outfitted with false teeth meant to temper his beauty (they don’t). Ruby Dee’s Ruth brings exquisite backbone to her and Buck’s homestead. Hired by Louisiana plantation owners, Nightriders (led by a nasty piece of work, played by Cameron Mitchell) terrorize the settlers to force them to turn back and return South where there is “work” for them. Smart about Jim Crow labor practices, the movie is visionary in prioritizing the economic underpinnings of racism. It is equally prescient about the shifting alliance of Blacks and Indians. This was Poitier’s directorial debut. Like so many actors behind the camera, he elicits strong and subtle performances. But he nails something more elusive for first-time directors: He keeps a brisk, involving forward motion. Jazz great Benny Carter composed a killer, mouth-harp twangy score. As significant as “Buck and the Preacher” rates in the annals of black filmmaking, it also shares the rebellious vibe with of other westerns of the period, “The Life and Time of Judge Roy Bean” and “Jeremiah Johnson” among them.

Tyrese Gibson is Jody, a 20-year old man who has to figure out his life in John Singleton’s now urban classic film, “Baby Boy.” This unpretentious coming-of-age story is a glimpse into how boys transition to men in South Central, Los Angeles. Amidst the tropes of drugs, gangs, teen pregnancies and other cultural effects underlies a rather delicate character study on how our current system fosters, and more importantly, curates the persons it ultimately shows its contempt towards. What Singleton creates in Jody is man who hasn’t quite found his way with all the trimmings to illustrates his daily goings but precisely targets with pinpoint accuracy the physical and mental trappings his world seems to be garnered in. On one hand he has a great relationship at home with his mother Juanita (Adrienne-Joi Johnson), but that gets thrown out of balance when her new beau Melvin (Ving Rhames) moves in. Jody is content repairing bikes in the garage but knows its not enough to take care of his daughter nor his girlfriend Yvette (Taraji P. Henson). These circumstances orbit Jody’s everyday oblivious movements which culminate into an intense tale of love, hate, and redemption as only Singleton could tell. Gibson at the helm is spectacular. His chiseled facial expressions complement the mood of every scene in such a way it seems almost effortless to play against. Just as his previous film, “Boyz n the Hood,” Singleton uses the stories from the streets he knows to tell his own version of Americana – the Black side of town that doesn’t follow the same rules and acquire the same tools as prescribed in most stories of the genre where the principles are essentially white and more mainstream. “Baby Boy” is satisfying that way. There are no victims, no apologies, no cause and effect. Its just life in the hood in Los Angeles shown with a different perspective from what we see filtered through a white, mainstreamed lens – and we see, its people and stories enrich us, provide color, and add that splash of color the collective tapestry of American culture and cinema casually tries to omit.  Luckily with bombastic films like this, that omission is now nearly impossible.

Times have changed dramatically since 1967, but, yet, To Sir, With Love has not lost its charm. Based on a book of the same name and created around author E.R. Braithwaite’s actual experiences as a Black man from British Guiana (modern-day Guyana) teaching troubled white youth in London, To Sir, With Love possesses a sense of civility out of place for today but certainly apropos for yesteryear. Sidney Poitier’s Mark Thackeray is both guarded and vulnerable. His constant composure throughout only lends more emphasis to his emotional slips. In the end, the truth is not that he is teaching because he needs a job; instead, it is because he has found a purpose, a calling. While racism is never in-your-face, it does lurk in the background, most notably through the absence of other Black faces. And most incredibly, To Sir, With Love came out in the same year as the more well-known Poitier classics In the Heat of the Night and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.

Writer-director John Singleton followed his groundbreaking debut “Boyz N the Hood” with this 1993  romantic drama set in South Central that paired popular music quasars Janet Jackson and Tupac Shakur as Justice and Lucky. She’s a hairdresser who lost her first love to violence; he’s postal worker with a little daughter. Far from meeting cute, the two meet antagonistic. Then they hit the road — L.A. to Oakland along the Pacific Coast Highway — with her bestie Iesha (Regina King) and his co-worker Chicago (Joe Torry), a frisky and volatile couple The blemish here is the tenor of its battle of the sexes, which takes cues from the tiresome misogyny of the rap of the time. It hasn’t aged well. Justice and Lucky’s relationship feels forced and the trauma inflicted to draw them close overstated. Besides King’s turn as loyal if reckless Iesha (she had a smaller role in “Boyz”), what remains memorable is the Maya Angelou aura: the poet makes a cameo as an auntie pontificating on the morals of young folks and the words that make Justice so poetic are hers.