That’s Life — Steve Bornfeld: Attitude shift for Mr. Shaft

Friday, June 23, 2000 | 9:11 a.m.

Steve Bornfeld is the Sun features editor. His column appears Fridays. Reach him at steveb@lasvegassun.com or 259-4081.

That cat "Shaft" was a baaaaad mutha.

This cat "Shaft" is a maaaaad mutha.

As much as a relatively innocuous piece of pop culture diversion can actually take the temperature of a nation -- racially, politically or socially -- the resurrection of "Shaft" is a revealing thermometer.

And the reading on "Shaft" has shot from cool as ice to hot under the leather collar.

(Keep in mind that this is just one pasty-faced white boy's opinion.)

While I enjoyed the pure energy of this update of the landmark urban action flick -- with original Shaft Richard Roundtree (in a regrettably tiny part) bequeathing the flowing trench coat he mothballed back in the '70s to heir Samuel L. Jackson -- there's an unsettling undercurrent of racial politics swirling throughout.

The shifting of "Shaft" seems inextricably linked to the three decades of roiling racial tensions that separate the twin flicks.

The original film 29 years ago looked inward in the black community for its inspiration and celebration of black identity in a white world -- or at least the white-dominated world of movies. Although flecked with observations about racial inequality, it basically centered around black-on-black relations (with a touch of the Mafia -- those stock movie villains -- tossed in) as John Shaft had to track down the kidnapped daughter of a black narcotics czar in Harlem. The film compiled a relatively low body count and even included Shaft's prickly friendship with a white cop and sexual dalliance with a white woman.

It was all framed by Roundtree's effortless cool and played as a burst of black pride.

The new corpse-strewn film, with a profanity-engorged script, looks outward for its demons. Playing the race card more overtly, it is propelled by a white-on-black race murder and further fueled by a white judicial system that allows the smug, amoral white killer to roam free; a Hispanic drug lord oozing slime and preying on the citizenry; and a white witness who runs and hides rather than telling the truth that would bring peace to the dead black man's family.

It is all framed by Jackson's strenuous glowering and plays as a burst of black vigilantism.

Yes, this is "Shaft" -- post-O.J., post-Rodney King, post-Spike Lee; the gangsta rap-era "Shaft" in which alienation from the white world seems part of the point.

And the juxtaposition over the years is ironic.

In 1971 "Shaft" trail-blazed the so-called "blaxploitation" movement, a subgenre of film that, given its status outside -- and significantly below -- the Hollywood mainstream, seemed ripe for black anger that never really materialized. On the contrary: Following the lead of Roundtree, until then an unknown, new "blaxploitation" headliners like Jim Brown and Pam Grier put all their chips on being hip and carved out a market black moviegoers could finally embrace and white movie execs were happy to cater to. Of course, that was easier -- creatively, financially and socially -- than making the effort to truly integrate major Hollywood films.

It was blatant pop culture ghetto-ization -- but widely viewed as a breakthrough nonetheless.

In 2000 "Shaft" is a mainstream blockbuster summer action flick boasting an established star and without a whiff of the second-class status that defined its progenitor and relegated it to a movie ghetto. It competes with gusto in the same multimillion-dollar arena with -- and last weekend defeated -- white-guy movie gods Cruise and Cage. (Flash back to '71 -- Roundtree was not playing in the same stadium with Newman and Redford.)

Despite those strides, this "Shaft" seems to seethe with racial issues.

Much has been made of the fact that aside from some suggestive dialogue and blurry, gyrating title credits, today's "Shaft" comes across as a celibate mutha -- a virtual betrayal of the original's carnal charisma. The official critical line is: concession to AIDS-related political correctness.

Nonsense.

This is an age in which black leaders have criticized as stereotypical such TV shows as Eddie Murphy's "The PJ's" for portraying blacks in a ghetto, and "Homeboys in Outer Space" for exaggerating hip-hop culture and jargon. So no movie that seemingly sets a new standard for black characters in the inner city muttering "mutha------" can be construed as politically correct-minded.

Shaft No. 1 made love -- an act requiring no small amount of tenderness -- freely (including a shower rendezvous with the aforementioned white chick). Shaft No. 2 seems too consumed with rage to be bothered with such pleasures. He's too busy killing, maiming and venting.

Yes, the new "Shaft" makes some token gestures toward racial balance: Of the film's two corrupt cops, one is white but the other is black; and the white witness finally agrees to do the right thing (but only after relentless pursuing and moral prodding by Shaft). It's reverse tokenism -- and perhaps a fitting payback to Hollywood for decades of black tokenism in white movies.

Even musically -- although obviously linked by the legendary title track -- the two contrast vividly. The original soundtrack, funky but seductively romantic, is a burnished masterpiece of Isaac Hayes' hot-buttered soul from start to finish. The rap/hip-hop CD for the update sports a parental advisory label on the cover.

But being, as mentioned before, a pasty-faced white boy, I talked with a black colleague who has also seen both films. And while she could understand my perceptions, she also suggested that Roundtree's Shaft fulfilled white expectations of black behavior while Jackson's Shaft is closer to black expectations, exaggerated for cinematic effect.

Certainly makes sense.

For all the talk of its "blaxploitation" label, the original "Shaft" had a healthy crossover appeal. There was virtually no discomfort -- pre-O.J., pre-Rodney King -- in being a white fan of "Shaft" (perhaps due to my colleague's theory).

This year's "Shaft," although guaranteed a wide, multi-ethic audience -- teenage boys of every color flock to action flicks, period -- feels more distant and exclusionary to a nonblack audience (see, again, colleague's theory).

But either way, "Shaft" is branded on my brain.

After all, Richard Roundtree attended my New York high school (honest), becoming the ultimate symbol of cool school pride. And while going to a Jewish summer camp the year of the original's release, we campers were awakened every morning by the throbbing strains of "who's the black private dick who's a sex machine to all the chicks?" (don't ask). You just don't shake that.

Baaaaad or maaaaad, this pasty-faced white boy will always dig it.