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USA 1998
Reviewed by Andrew O'Hehir
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Derek Vinyard, the former leader of a white, racist, skinhead gang in Venice Beach, Los Angeles, is being released from prison after serving three years for manslaughter. While Derek has been away, his younger brother Danny, also a skinhead, has been torn between two men: Dr Sweeney, a black high-school principal; and Cameron, a local neo-Nazi leader. The Vinyards' father, a firefighter with racist views, was shot and killed years earlier in a black neighbourhood. At Cameron's urging, Derek organised the disgruntled white youths of Venice Beach into a violent gang who committed hate crimes. Before the killings, Derek alienated his mother and sister. Only Danny still sees him as a hero.
On Derek's release, Cameron, Danny and the other skinheads assume Derek will retake control of the gang. But Derek was betrayed and raped by neo-Nazis in prison, and was then befriended by a black prisoner. He has abandoned his racist views. He agrees to work with Dr Sweeney and the police to save Danny from the gang. Derek attends a skinhead gathering, beats up Cameron and escapes. He convinces Danny to leave the gang, but the next day, on his way to school, Danny is shot and killed by a black student he had confronted the day before.
This is an easy movie to make fun of - in virtually the first scene, skinhead Danny protests when a teacher threatens to fail Danny's essay, "Oh, come on, Sweeney! It took me a week to read Mein Kampf! It's not fair!" Elsewhere, characters tend to speak as if they were members of a college debating society or, in the case of Avery Brooks' high-school principal Sweeney, as if they were narrating a melodramatic novel. ("Cameron Alexander found in Derek his shining prince," he tells the cops.) Almost as much time is spent exploring Danny's older brother Derek's hate-filled past in arty, portentous black-and-white flashbacks as in the flat Pacific light of the film's more naturalistic present tense. And are we really expected to believe that a pack of skinheads could come up with a creed as colourful as: "I believe in death, destruction, chaos, filth and greed"?
Despite all that, and despite the wrangle over director Tony Kaye's efforts to remove his name from the finished product, American History X is a work of impressive scale and craft and not a movie that's easy to dismiss in the end. Its structure, storytelling method and emotional goals resemble those of grand opera. It seeks to link a simplistic, almost mythic tragedy of brotherhood and sacrifice to a set of powerful, non-verbal tableaux. The comic-book story of American History X comes to seem less important than the extraordinary image-making as Kaye's scenes gather cumulative force. The cinematographer as well as the director here, former director of advertisements Kaye has a gift for arresting compositions. What we remember is the sudden, kinetic explosion of Derek and his masked goons into a supermarket where they terrorise the Latino staff; the eerie clarity of the horrifying scene in which Derek kills a would-be car thief; and the documentary realism of the enormous outdoor skinhead gathering at which Derek confronts neo-Nazi leader Cameron.
If Edward Norton's Oscar-nominated performance is the film's magnetic centre - Derek often seems to glow with an insane inner luminescence, like a new Charles Manson - we could do without the clumsy efforts of David McKenna's script to provide the character with specific psychological anchors. To suggest Derek becomes a racist because his father delivers a bigoted dinner-table speech before dashing off to be killed, and then reforms because one black prisoner does him a favour, is reductive to the point of inanity. At its best, American History X reaches for a richer, more ambiguous notion of evil as an insidious force that's almost impossible to keep at bay. But whatever Kaye and McKenna's intentions may have been, Derek seems to be essentially the same arrogant jerk after his release from prison as he was before. Only his ideology has changed, and that's not enough to keep his family from tumbling over the tragic precipice.
For my money, the finest performance here comes from Edward Furlong as the sweet, bright and easily manipulated Danny, a boy both eager to please his morally upright black teacher and the moronic Venice Beach neo-Nazi leader (an enjoyable cameo role for Stacy Keach). The excellent supporting cast also includes Fairuza Balk as Derek's sycophantic girlfriend; Ethan Suplee as a beefy small-minded skinhead lieutenant; and Guy Torry as Derek's black workmate in prison. Beverly D'Angelo merits a special mention for her restraint as Derek and Danny's coughing mother, possibly suffering from emphysema (an operatic character if ever there was one). In a film whose memorable atmospherics are probably its primary virtue, the clutter and claustrophobia of white-trash Californian poverty are captured with startling accuracy.