A perfect movie for the moment we’re in

You could easily believe Spike Lee sees into the future when you’re watching Da 5 Bloods, his new Netflix film. 

George Floyd is a household name, and much of the American public better understands the inherent racism woven into our day-to-day. So here comes Da 5 Bloods to take us on a journey that is, in many ways, defined by that racism.

But Spike Lee isn’t clairvoyant — he’s a student of history.

On the surface, Da 5 Bloods is a story about four black Vietnam veterans who return to the jungle to retrieve their fallen squad commander’s remains, along with a hidden stockpile of plundered CIA gold. They see it as a form of reparations, for reasons the movie makes abundantly clear.

Like much of Lee’s work, Da 5 Bloods unravels another little corner of the systemic racism in our American tapestry. But in the midst of widespread IRL social upheaval that many hope will finally start to undo the trauma wrought by centuries of deeply embedded prejudice, this new movie delivers a powerful sense of perspective.

We’re right “in the shit” with a five-man squad of black soldiers on the ground as they battle enemy forces during America’s questionable war in Vietnam. The camera’s field of view boxes us into a 4:3 aspect ratio during these flashback moments, presenting a tighter, more personalized impression of the battlefield. It conveys a sense of proximity to the soldiers; they become our singular focus in these moments.

It’s not just battle scenes, either. At one point, the five “Bloods” – a colloquial term black soldiers used to refer to themselves during the Vietnam War – wake up to an enemy radio broadcast informing them that Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated back home. Their varied reactions fill the entire 4:3 frame, inviting us to share in their mixture of grief and anger. It’s one of the film’s most powerful scenes.

Da 5 Bloods unravels another little corner of the systemic racism in our American tapestry.

King’s death is hardly a central plot point, but what his death represents is one of the story’s primary motivations. It comes from a script by Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo that Lee and co-writer Kevin Wilmott reworked to make black soldiers, and their blackness specifically, the focus.

When Paul (Delroy Lindo), Otis (Clarke Peters), Eddie (Norm Lewis), and Melvin (Isiah Whitlock, Jr.) reunite in modern-day Vietnam, we get a ground-level view – not to mention an expansive and high definition one, intentionally contrasting the movie’s flashbacks to war footage – of these old men seeing their former war zone through fresh eyes. Theirs is a layered response: some excitement over the reunion to be sure, but also clear evidence of remorse and lingering prejudice, as well as a more nuanced understanding of the unjust system that brought them all there way back when.

Lindo in particular is a standout, delivering a career-best performance as an ex-soldier who never really managed to shake the PTSD that many veterans brought back home after they returned from war. He’s got a lot of anger at the world and the injustices he’s been forced to shoulder. Though it’s clear through his relationship with his son David (Jonathan Majors), who unexpectedly tags along on the trip, that at least some of Paul’s pain is self-inflicted.

He’s also, crucially, a MAGA hat-wearing Trump supporter. “I’m tired of not getting mine, man,” he complains during one early scene. We’re meant to understand that Paul feels betrayed by his country, and this treasure hunt in Vietnam is an attempt to seize the moment and take care of himself in a way that no one else will. As we eventually learn, however, that’s not the only reason Paul is there. There’s a part of him, perhaps even a larger part, that wants to exorcise the demons still haunting him from his time at war.

It becomes a sort of slow revelation as the story moves forward. We start to wonder, is Paul really being honest with himself? The brilliance of Lindo’s performance rests in Paul’s complete journey from beginning to end. It’s not a pleasant ride, and he learns some hard lessons along the way. But he’s also the the source of much of the film’s emotional resonance.

None of which would work, it should be said, without the rest of the cast. Paul’s constant shift between camaraderie and conflict with his former squadmates (and also his son) gives the assembled performers plenty to work with. Peters in particular rises to the occasion, serving as a calm and collected foil to Lindo’s reckless noise.

If there’s any fault to be found with the story, it’s in a third act that sometimes feels disjointed. Without getting into spoilers, the squad splits up at a certain moment and the story’s focus suffers somewhat as a result. But the plot point that divides the group is also vital to bringing the entire journey home, especially in the context of Lee’s deeply powerful and moving epilogue.

Those final scenes serve to cement this story’s connection to our real, modern world, grounding it in the important, deeply relatable truths that each character discovers during their journey. It’s an epilogue that has echoes of the one in Lee’s 2018 work, BlacKkKlansman, which drew a direct line from its cops vs. Klan story to 2017’s upheaval in Charlottesville. 

The difference here is in the way the epilogue ties much more directly to the story that unfolded. I wouldn’t say one is more powerful than the other – both codas moved me to tears. But the newer one puts a different kind of period on the experience. It’s more hopeful in some ways. But it’s also more directly connected to each character’s inner truth, and that serves to build a stronger sense of emotional connection between audience and story.

You can feel Lee’s distinctive sense of style all throughout Da 5 Bloods. The back-and-forth switches between past and present could easily have been jarring, if not for the creative use of screen wipes and changing aspect ratios. It’s a wonderful stylistic flourish that helps to keep viewers grounded in each moment without wasting time on scene-setting.

The marriage of music and camera work is also classic Spike. Every scene in Da 5 Bloods has its own story to tell, and that’s especially true when a cut from the soundtrack is playing. Terence Blanchard’s score is excellent, but the abundance of Marvin Gaye and other black artists from the period, and the thoughtful pairings of music and scene, are when the movie is at its best.

Like I said at the outset, Lee is no soothsayer. He simply understands where we’ve been, and he uses that knowledge to tell a story rooted in his lived perspective. Da 5 Bloods couldn’t have better timing. It’s one of Lee’s strongest works to date, and it tells a story that feels perfectly suited to the moment into which it arrives.

Da 5 Bloods is now streaming on Netflix.