May 13, 1994

'Crooklyn': A Tender Domestic Drama From, No Joke, Spike Lee

By JANET MASLIN

oremost among the stereotypes undone by Spike Lee's "Crooklyn" is the usual idea of a Spike Lee film. None of the edgy, confrontational drama or stark handsomeness of Lee's other work distinguishes this noisy, crowded family story. Nor will "Crooklyn" spark debate on racial or sexual issues, as some of Lee's films have. Instead, "Crooklyn" is so mild that it's the first Spike Lee film with the potential to be turned into a television show. More important, it's the first one to display real warmth of heart.

From some film makers, tender feelings are de rigueur; from others, they're cloying or easy. From Lee, they're nothing if not a surprise. Messy as the semiautobiographical "Crooklyn" often is, it succeeds in becoming a touching and generous family portrait, a film that exposes welcome new aspects of this director's talent. The phrase "kinder, gentler Spike Lee" may not sit well with those who admire the film maker's harder edges, but it does come to mind.

Lee's fond evocation of a lost time and place, the Brooklyn of the early 1970's, becomes a means of conjuring up intense feelings of loss among his film's school-age characters. After meandering boisterously through much of its first half, "Crooklyn" finally toughens up with the advent of a family tragedy, and shows how its principals are strengthened despite their loss.

In addition to being the first of Lee's films that will appeal to children, "Crooklyn" is his first to tell a story through the eyes of a little girl. And a wise little girl, too: Troy (Zelda Harris, a winning young actress) watches everything that goes on in her neighborhood with a knowing and baleful eye. Whether squabbling with her four brothers or sizing up an awfully large, loud person in the grocery store (played by the transvestite RuPaul), Troy quietly appraises those around her and learns from their behavior. The heart of this coming-of-age story becomes Troy's need to fight for her independence while she solidifies vital family ties.

The two-parent, middle-class Carmichael family of "Crooklyn" is conspicuously abnormal, at least among black families in American films. Despite its title, this story unfolds in a safe neighborhood where the father, Woody (Delroy Lindo), drinks Pepsi, the children play hopscotch and everyone eats healthy meals, though not without a lot of back talk about vegetables. Early in the film, Lee often dwells on such details to excess, sacrificing the story's shapeliness for the sake of broad, nostalgic touches. Plenty of the anecdotes here, like one in which Troy steals her brother's coin collection to buy ice cream, feel more like family reminiscences than interesting dramatic events.

In the past, Lee's films have often been family affairs, since his sister, Joie Susannah Lee, has acted in most of them (including this one, as a Carmichael aunt). And his father, Bill Lee, has provided musical scores. This time, having written the screenplay with Joie and his brother Cinque Lee, the director has worked less rigorously than usual, often pausing for episodes that serve no strong narrative purpose. (He also appears as a neighborhood glue-sniffer.)

Audiences will at first be struck by the cacophony of "Crooklyn," as the five Carmichael siblings chatter furiously while they are overpowered by a nonstop, all-hit 70's soul soundtrack. But even the music works better in the film's later stages, with familiar love songs used movingly to reflect Troy's thoughts about a death in the family.

It helps that the Carmichael parents are played by such sturdy, likable actors. Alfre Woodard appears as Carolyn, the family's formidable mother, and along with Lindo she helps give the material much-needed ballast. This film's portrait of a marriage is hazily constructed, but each parent emerges as a forceful, compelling character. There's a particular honesty in the depiction of Carolyn as both loving mother and furiously stern taskmaster: at one point, she drags her children out of bed in the middle of the night because they forgot to clean up the kitchen. That behavior may not make sense, but it feels real.

Much of "Crooklyn" is simply a cheerful celebration of 70's black culture (with one notable addition: the Carmichaels' wide-eyed Partridge Family sing-along is a natural show-stopper). Clothes, songs and television clips give the film an appealing gaiety, as well as an innocence that suits its young characters. Less successful are some of Lee's visual affectations, including the bizarre trick of compressing images by using the wrong aspect ratio, for scenes in which Troy goes to live with prim Southern relatives. This device is less likely to evoke Troy's mental state than to prompt hasty trips to projection booths in movie theaters across the land.

Noticeably absent from the credits of "Crooklyn" is Ernest Dickerson, the cinematographer whose vital contribution to earlier Lee films is underscored by the bland look of this one (shot by Arthur Jafa, whose own credits include the hauntingly lovely "Daughters of the Dust"). Dickerson, who recently directed the mean-spirited exploitation film "Surviving the Game," obviously owes Lee a debt in kind.

"Crooklyn" is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). It includes moderate profanity.

Crooklyn Directed by Spike Lee; written by Joie Susannah Lee, Cinque Lee and Spike Lee; director of photography, Arthur Jafa; edited by Barry Alexander Brown; music by Terence Blanchard; production designer, Wynn Thomas; produced by Spike Lee; released by Universal Pictures. 115 minutes. This film is rated PG-13. Carolyn . . . Alfre Woodard Woody . . . Delroy Lindo Tony Eyes . . . David Patrick Kelly Troy . . . Zelda Harris Clinton . . . Carlton Williams Aunt Maxine . . . Joie Susannah Lee Snuffy . . . Spike Lee