By It’s been 25 years since the LA riots, and there are a number of films coming out that revisit this harrowing moment in the country’s history. The most high-profile might be Let It Fall: LA from 1982-1992 from John Ridley, screenwriter of 12 Years a Slave. John Chon’s narrative film, Gook, about the Korean experience during the LA riots, won acclaim at Sundance and should be out later this year.
LA 92 is the first of the LA riot projects I’ve seen this year. It’s also the only one I’ve seen so far, but it sets a high bar. It’ll be interesting to consider LA 92 in the context of the other LA riot films, and also with regard to Ezra Edelman’s O.J.: Made in America and Ava DuVernay’s 13TH.
Co-directors Daniel Lindsay and T.J. Martin have put together a harrowing in-the-moment, on-the-ground account of the LA riots. All of LA 92 unfolds through archival footage and camcorders that were on the ground that day. No talking heads, no commentary in hindsight. All of the film’s power comes from the editing and how despairing and apocalyptic images are juxtaposed. It’s heartbreaking, enraging, terrifying, and one of the most overwhelming experiences I’ve had with a film in a long while.
[This review originally ran last week as part of our coverage of the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival, which runs from April 19th to April 30th in New York City. It has been reposted to coincide with the theatrical release and television broadcast of the film.]
LA 92
Directors: Daniel Lindsay and T.J. Martin
Rating: R
Release Date: April 28, 2019 (NYC, LA); April 30, 2019 (National Geographic Channel)
Lindsay and Martin start not with the LA riots of 1992, but instead the Watts riots of 1965. Another case of police brutality and violence, another instance of outrage and destruction. Riots might be viewed as a type of self-harm. When a community is helpless to redress a wrong, they wound themselves. It makes sense that the specter of Watts lingers through the film, suggesting an inescapable inevitability of violence in the face of cyclical, systemic, and maybe even perpetual racism. These are decades and decades of oppression manifested in a grandiose act of self-mutilation.
Tensions ratchet up following the beating of Rodney King. LA 92 notes the death of Latasha Harlins as part of the fomenting rage, which would lead to a lot of Korean businesses getting targeted during the riots themselves. Harlins was allegedly trying to shoplift orange juice at a convenience store. She got into a struggle with store owner Soon Ja Du, who shot Harlins dead at the register. Harlins was just 15 years old. The verdict in the murder case implies a lot of unsavory things about how the minority status of blacks and Asians are so different in the eyes of white America. (This goes beyond the purview of this review, but I couldn’t help but think of the myth of the model minority that seems to pit blacks and Asians against one another, as if the American experience for these ethnic groups are commensurate simply by dint of minority status.)
The build to the riots themselves on the day of the Rodney King verdict is so ominous. It’s played out through a series of escalations; an argument over donuts, shoutdowns in the courthouse parking lot, feet on the ground, gatherings in churches. The anger has been shut in so long, it can’t be contained. The cops are evacuated out of fear for their safety. The social order breaks down. Then the riot happens.
The riot on screen is an unrelenting cinematic assault for at least an hour. The rage is palpable, as are the confusion and sadness. There’s also a lot of sadistic happiness, the type of manic glee that comes with vengeance and feelings of dominance. A man’s face gets caved in on camera, and people laugh at him in triumph. One scene I can’t get out of my head. A man gets beaten, and his genitals are exposed. His attackers spray paint his face and and his private parts black. He quivers on the ground in the way that people in movies quiver when they’re about to die. And then a preacher approaches the man slowly, fire and rubble around him; there’s a Bible in one hand and his arms are outstretched like Christ. That’s end times imagery; it happened in my own lifetime.
Occasionally it feels like the gyre of a score by Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans will completely overtake the madness on screen. Yet the imagery is so potently organized and the emotions are so raw; the music felt like perfect symphonic accompaniment. There is nothing subtle or subdued about what’s happening or what anyone is feeling in those moments. That score also enhances the unfolding chaos of what happened. As businesses in Koreatown are targeted, Korean men with guns fire at passing cars. One guy unloads a whole clip from his handgun with abandon and a psychotic determination on his face. It’s no surprise that LA 92 refuses to provide a conciliatory conclusion.
Rodney King’s “Can we all get along?” was such a punchline of a quote even in 1992, but to see the full press conference is another matter. King’s so overwhelmed saying those words. There’s nothing to laugh about. It’s one of the most earnest expressions of empathy he could offer, tinged by an awareness of how meek and helpless it might sound. So many images and moments of LA 92 will haunt me, but the new context of King’s question chills me when I think of it. The answer seems like, “I’m not sure.”
