Seeing Spike Lee reviving his Do the Right Thing character of Mookie has to be the most depressing cinematic thing I’ve seen all year. Grey-bearded Spike pulled a Hitchcock, showing up in Red Hook Summer as the aged version of the pizza delivery boy he played over twenty years ago. And it was so sad – on multiple levels no less. First off, Spike looks like he’s aged 40 years in just over 20; then I couldn’t help but think how awful it is to have a crappy summer job as your full time career. Finally, I was reminded of a time when Spike Lee’s name meant something. There was a time when one would leave a Spike film self-conscious about life, about anger, pain and struggle. The simple donning of a costume from a brilliant film acts as a time machine. But there is no time machine. It’s been years since Spike Lee was relevant. All I can say now is at least he’s not Tyler Perry.
Fro-hawked Flik (Jules Brown) is sent from his Atlanta home to live in the Red Hook projects in Brooklyn for the summer. It’s like a prison sentence. Exacerbating this feeling is his introduction to the local warden, his grandfather Deacon Zee (Thomas Jefferson Byrd). And, check it, Gramps is a preacher. Hallelujah. Really. Hallelujah.
Flik totes an iPad2 to every destination. He holds it in front of him when meeting people on the premise that he’s making some sort of documentary. The symbolism here is basic; Flik wants to keep a barrier between he and Brooklyn. And while I can see Flik doesn’t want to be there, spending his summer freedom working at a foreign church – wow, it sure sounds like fun, right? – I don’t want to be there, either. It’s hard to like a film where the main character is bored.
Grandpa isn’t exactly a task-master; he just wants “Silas” (Flik’s real name) to follow Jesus. And so for 80+ minutes, we all follow Jesus in the sweltering heat of ennui-filled projects. Flik’s would-be main squeeze, Chazz (Toni Lyasaith), provides small relief. It’s better than preaching, but not much. Red Hook Summer is replete with the poor acting usually reserved for Shyamalan. Remember when Spike Lee was adept at finding undiscovered talent? You can keep this lot undiscovered, thank you. One could make a drinking game out of superfluous hand gestures in this film.
I was all ready to hate Red Hook Summer. I was. I’d checked my watch a dozen times. I’d played two games of Freecell while waiting 
for scenes in church to conclude. I tried sleeping. It didn’t take. But then suddenly and without warning, the film changed on a dime, violently, cruelly, and most importantly while grabbing my full attention.
Oh yeah, Spike Lee was a great director once, wasn’t he? The man can’t make a decent full-length project any more, but he can still charge a scene. I won’t give away what happens – it’s waaaaaay too far along in the film and it completely undermines the preceding 90 minutes. It also spoils the film for anybody who came to hear a sermon. But for two minutes, I was overjoyed, suddenly remembering a man capable of stirring passions and creating conflict and MAKING ME CARE. And then the film meandered and died. Oh well. Maybe next film.
ATL Flik got bad news
Summer with gramps gives him the blues
Will his soul be saved?/I’m on edge of the floor
Not that I care/I’m just headed next door
Rated R, 121 Minutes
D: Spike Lee
W: Spike Lee, James McBride
Genre: Holier-than-thou
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: He who is without sin.
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: He who, well, might ha’ sinned a once or a twice.
