They’re friends, acolytes, and lovers of Cleve Jones, who is at the center of When We Rise. I cried at the sad reveal of who among the young dreamers and activists that appear in the first half of the series’ eight episodes later died of AIDS. After all, does anyone feel triumphant about anything right now? (Well, yes-some people do, of course.) A finale coda about the struggle continuing-for all kinds of minorities, not just queer people-seems tacked on, a ballast to all the triumphalism that’s come before. It’s honorable that ABC is airing the series, but it also feels like the network planned on presenting it under a nascent Clinton administration. It’s a dutiful and occasionally moving, if rather artless, recreation of landmark moments in the LGBT struggle-from the days of Harvey Milk to the end of DOMA-that reminds us of how much we’ve gained, yes, but also how much we now stand to lose. Something about the series-earnestly written by Milk Oscar-winner Dustin Lance Black-seems so dated in these Trumpian times. There’s a certain pain in watching When We Rise, the ABC mini-series about the gay rights struggles of the last 40 years that airs this week.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |