I must admit, I was disappointed when I found out last month that Ava DuVernay did not receive an Oscar nomination for her film Selma. It would have been such a milestone to see an African American woman walk across the stage and accept an award for Best Director for the first time. But more than that, I was upset about the possibility that the film may have been hurt by the negative controversy regarding the film’s portrayal of President Lyndon B. Johnson and his role in the historic march from Selma to Montgomery, AL, in 1965. The idea that for all of DuVernay’s artistic achievement, Selma might only be remembered for its supposed “inaccuracies” seems like an injustice to me, for several reasons.
The controversy began when one of Lyndon B. Johnson’s former aides wrote an article insisting that the Selma march was LBJ’s idea, and that the film falsely insinuated LBJ’s involvement with FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover’s ruthless surveillance of Dr. King’s home. That writer may have been focusing on LBJ because he worked with him, but Selma was one of the few times that we actually saw the movement through the eyes of the people. And perhaps in the eyes of the people, LBJ was not the saint that the critics wanted him to be.
Historian Craig Swanson’s book The Selma Campaign: Martin Luther King, Jr., Jimmy Lee Jackson and the Defining Struggle of the Civil Rights Era states that: “King, like most civil rights leaders, trusted President Johnson, but only so far. During his short time as president, Johnson had proven to be a valuable ally. Still, his segregationist past as a Texas congressman troubled those with long memories.” And according to Adam Serwer’s article “Lyndon Johnson Was a Civil Rights Hero. But Also a Racist”, there was a public Johnson and a private Johnson, who still called black people the n-word and apparently used to try and to scare black people with snakes.
Truth be told, the Selma march was not an idea to be solely attributed to President Johnson nor Dr. King. There were several grassroots workers and organizations such as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Dallas County Voters League, who were on the ground organizing people in Selma to vote, way before King or Johnson even came into the picture. The beauty of the film Selma is that it spoke louder of the collective rather than the individual. Ava DuVernay and her production crew relied on plenty of nuance with the hope that the audience would be sophisticated enough to do their own research on the actual events.
The film starts with a a re-enactment of the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, AL, where four little girls were killed. Although this e
vent did not take place in Selma, and it happened a couple years before the initial Selma march, DuVernay’s inclusion of it prepares the audience for what is to come. The slow motion effect of the tiny bodies floating through space upon impact gives us the sense, only minutes into the film, that we are about to embark on a journey that shows the moral depravity of humanity, particularly during that time. Throughout the film, each time someone is attacked by white supremacists, we see them in slow motion medium close ups, allowing the audience to see these people as humans, almost immortalizing the significance of their sacrifice.
DuVernay makes it a point to highlight people who were integral to the movement, yet rarely talked about in history books. Amelia Boynton, James Bevel, Jimmy Lee Jackson, Diane Nash are not considered household names, yet Amelia Boynton (played in the film by actress Lorraine Toussaint) as well as her husband, Samuel Boynton, both fought vigilantly for years to get black citizens registered to vote in Selma, AL. As a matter of fact, it was Samuel’s death that became one of many catalysts for the initial marches, as sheriff Jim Clark and the Selma police terrorized black residents who attended his funeral because a mass meeting was to be held during the memorial. DuVernay recreated the iconic photo of Amelia Boynton lying in the street after being beaten during Bloody Sunday. Prior to this movie, many people may have thought she was just a random marcher.
Annie Lee Cooper (played in the film by Oprah Winfrey) was a product of the literacy test training that was provided by SNCC and people like Bernard LaFayette, Marie Foster, Rufus Lewis, and the Boyntons. Simply attempting to register to vote in Selma was very dangerous, so the close up shot of Cooper meticulously filling out the form toward the beginning of the film is a nuance that speaks to all the hard work that the citizens of Selma had to endure just in order to muster up the courage to go to the courthouse and fill out the registration forms.
When King arrives in Selma for the first time, there is a medium close up shot of James Bevel (played by rapper Common), who leans into King’s car and tells him that this is the right place and the right time, indicating that the groundwork had already been laid and that King was coming into a territory that was ripe for change. The positioning of Bevel in the center of the frame indicates that he is a key figure in what is already taking place in Selma. This is an important nuance because according to some historical accounts, the idea for the Selma march actually came from Bevel. (Other accounts credit Amelia Boynton with organizing the march, along with Bevel).
As for LBJ, some nuances indicated that his involvement with King and the Civil Rights Movement was much more complex than even the controversy chooses to admit. When J. Edgar Hoover suggests wiretapping King’s home, LBJ does not respond. In fact he flinches just a little. You can tell he is uncomfortable with it; however, he does not stop it. DuVernay leaves it up to the audience whether or not Johnson ordered the tap. It was made clear in the film that Johnson and King were on friendly terms. However, his actions are not those of one who has racism figured out, but rather as one who is trying to maintain his political status (i.e. cater to his white, conservative, Southern, constituency), but still bring about change.
Selma gives a wonderful, humanized view of some very flawed heroes, and Dr. King was no exception. For all of his prominence in the film, DuVernay did not shy away from showing us a man who was also accused of cheating on his wife, and who repeatedly left his wife and children at home while he travelled to fight for justice. David Oyelowo, who brilliantly played the part of Dr. King, was also left out of this year’s Oscar nominations, even though his performance showed us the weakness and vulnerability of a great leader. The man who preached (yes, culture sometimes likes to forget that he was a preacher, but Selma does not forget) before thousands was also the same man who sat in a dark corner of a room, called gospel singer Mahalia Jackson and asked her to sing “Precious Lord” because he was weary and needed to “hear the Lord’s voice.” The man who gave great speeches was also at a loss for words when he went to greet slain marcher Jimmy Lee Jackson’s father, Cager Lee, in the morgue. This was not the Martin Luther King that we are used to seeing in history books. This was the King who lead the people but who was also one of the people.
It is shameful that what we are left with after this Oscar season is an impression that Selma damaged the “legacy” of LBJ, when in reality, DuVernay’s accomplishment in this film is that she let the people speak. Selma gives voice to those who were in the margins instead of only the usual suspects who constantly take the credit for the hard-won fight for justice. This is something even for the church to consider as we seek justice in the world today. Are we letting the marginalized speak?
The other day I come across an article on NPR about a screening of the film in real-life Selma, AL. It recounts the story of George Sallie, an 85 year old man in attendance who reveals scars on his head from having participated in Bloody Sunday in 1965. A couple weeks ago, my 12-year old niece expressed her appreciation for those that marched after watching Selma with her family. With this film, DuVernay has brought people together, challenged us to re-strategize, and to continue the fight for justice while looking to the margins for the voice of the movement.
We can hope that maybe the Academy voters will at least appreciate the collective voice of Selma by acknowledging the film as a complete work of art in which Ava Duvernay, along with the stunning cinematography of Bradford Young, and an amazing cast, all worked together to give us a glimpse of the Selma Voting Rights Campaign that we had never seen before. In that sense, perhaps the overall Best Picture win would be the most fitting reward. But this film has already done more for justice and equality than a bronze statue could ever do. And for a woman who had already started her own distribution platform (the African American Film Festival Releasing Movement) way before Selma even came to fruition, I would say Ava DuVernay is already winning.