The Green Book is a huge part of Black American history. Prior to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which did away with the vast majority of discrimination – in law at least – against Black people in the US, the Green Book was an essential tool to help Black people travelling around the US, and especially the South, find places where they would be allowed to stay and avoid places where they would definitely find trouble.
So you’d think that if you were making a movie with such a title you’d want it to be beyond reproach; a movie celebrating the triumph of black history against tremendous adversity. You’d work hard to ensure that its contents were both factually accurate and avoided cliches in which black people were only able to exist thanks to white folk. Finally, you’d probably want The Green Book to play a major starring role in getting the protagonists through to the end credits.
Unfortunately, the makers of Green Book did none of that.
Green Book is, on the face of it, the story of Doctor Donald Shirley (Mahershala Ali), a black, classically-trained pianist in the mid 20th century, and a concert tour he undertook of the deep south. For the tour he hired Tony Lip (Viggo Mortensen) as a driver-cum-bodyguard to help him avoid problems. So far, so interesting. A good premise, and it’s based in factual accuracy. Donald Shirley did indeed tour the deep south and he did indeed hire Tony Vallelonga (to give him his full name) as a driver.
From there, however, we take a turn towards offensive fantasy. The movie paints Dr Shirley as an effete and pretentious snob, estranged from both his family and black culture. So you end up with egregious scenes such as a white man teaching a black man about fried chicken. If you tried to be more deliberately offensive then you’d struggle.
All of which is fine, right, because this is written by a man who was there. The film, after all, is based on Tony Lip’s own memoir of the time. As always, there’s two sides to every story. Dr Shirley’s surviving family have described the movie as ‘a symphony of lies’ and rubbished almost every aspect of it. They don’t deny Tony having existed as a driver for their deceased relative but they dismiss him as someone who was maybe around for a couple of months and certainly didn’t go on to have a life long friendship with him.
So instead of a film celebrating the relatively-unknown life of a man who deserves celebration, what we have is a white saviour and white redemption story (Tony starts the film being offensively racist and ends the film being not racist – well done Tony!) written by someone whose nickname is literally derived from him being full of shit.
Outside of the story, the film itself is very good. The acting, direction and all that stuff are superb. Which pretty much makes this the best film that should never have been made. So don’t go see it. You’ll love it…and you really really shouldn’t.