Jungle Fever (1991)

Spike Lee made Jungle Fever in 1991, but I never saw it until a couple of weeks ago. I can't say why I never got around to seeing this movie--it was partly accidental, I'm sure, because I have been a fan of Lee's other movies, especially Do the Right Thing.

Lee has a keen eye and ear for a day in the life of New York City, and his finger firmly on the pulse of the city's racial maelstrom. Jungle Fever painfully explodes the notion that black-white relations have improved all that much since the Civil Rights movement. The large and thoroughly accomplished cast is headed by Wesley Snipes as the upwardly mobile architect Flipper Purify, an apparently happy family man in Harlem, whose white bosses (the smarmy Tim Robbins and Brad Dourif) hire the young Italian-American Angie Tucci (Anabella Sciorra) from Bensonhurst as his assistant, against Flipper's protestations. I have never seen Snipes as effective (bright, dignified, and deeply conflicted). The torrid affair that ensues between the co-workers sets off a series of aftershocks among people on both sides of midtown, among them Flipper's father--the self-righteous Reverend Doctor Purify (the late Ossie Davis), who is addressed and referred to as the "Good Reverend Doctor"--and his heartbreakingly enabling mother, Lucinda Purify (Ruby Dee); Samuel L. Jackson (Gator Purify) as his tragic, crack-addicted brother; Halle Berry, a powerhouse as Gator's addict girlfriend, Vivian; Lonette McKee as Flipper's cuckolded wife, Drew (who brings a proper rage to the role); and Lee as his trusted friend, Cyrus, whose careless pillow talk ignites the conflagration. Angie's family seethes with racism and resentment--Frank Vincent as Mike, her father, and Michael Imperioli and David Dundara as her protective older brothers, James and Charley. Filling out the magnificent ensemble are John Turturro (the sole voice of reason among the vituperating Bensonhurst gang), Nicholas Turturro, Michael Badalucco, Queen Latifah, and the incomparable late Anthony Quinn (as John Turturro's bitter, widowed father).

I can't name another American movie with such a star-studded marquee, and certainly very few in which the characters have all been given such real and moving dialogue. The context and trappings may seem a touch dated to some current viewers, and some may complain that the movie is populated with stereotypes. Handled by a less skillful writer and filmmaker, Jungle Fever might have fallen on the sword of cliche. But cliche or not, the lesson of the movie is timeless: You've got to be taught to hate and fear, and also not to.