Getting it Said

Talk to Me shows who really lives in Washington, D.C.

By Tim Fernholz, Georgetown University
Monday July 23, 2007

“With all due respect, sir, this is not a respectable town—this is D.C.”

There’s a lot of truth in this line from Talk to Me, the newly released biopic of Washington, D.C. shock jock, comedian, and activist Ralph Waldo “Petey” Green. But Dewey Hughes (Chiwetel Ejiofor), the ambitious radio producer who utters the line, isn’t talking about the legislative deal-making that goes on in the capital. He’s talking about the real city of D.C., the less-well-off, predominantly black community that makes up most of the city. The movie, satisfying enough as a biography and more or less standard in its civil rights themes, deserves extra recognition for understanding the District, a city with issues of race and power to this day remain largely ignored by the national media.

Petey Green, played by the always-satisfying Don Cheadle, stars in the film as the loud-mouthed, jive-talking counterpart to Ejiofor’s straight man. We see the characters, beginning in 1966 with Green’s release from jail, spar over what you can and can’t say on the radio, culminating with the two working together to calm D.C. in the wake of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. The riots, forgotten by many, came within blocks of the White House and devastated the city, parts of which are still recovering today.

Petey and Dewey represent on a small stage the debate among African Americans at the time: Malcolm X vs. King and the broad overlaps between their two philosophies. Dewey’s observation to Green that “You say the things I’m afraid to say and I do the things you’re afraid to do”—meaning that Green doesn’t mince his words but only Hughes has the self-discipline and understanding of the system to get things done. But in the end, Green’s life—colorful and important to D.C. though it was—doesn’t have enough of a plot to really carry the movie. Cheadle might be better used to play Walter Washington, the unelected mayor-commissioner who refused federal orders to shoot black rioters in 1968 and would go on to become D.C.’s first elected mayor—and its first black mayor.

But maybe it is important that we look at the life of a relatively unimportant man during those times. Because of the local focus, you are forcibly reminded that—as Hughes explains to the radio station owner, played by Martin Sheen—there’s more to D.C. than Georgetown. There are projects in Anacostia and minorities throughout Southeast and Southwest who still don’t have vote in Congress, much less nationwide attention. Though one friend who saw the film with me noted that a shot of Ben’s Chili Bowl or James Brown performing at Georgetown University does not D.C. authenticity make, this is the first major film I’ve seen that even attempts to see a D.C. beyond marble buildings while addressing political themes.

Other critics have noted that the film doesn’t force the viewer to judge and dislike the square Dewey over the easy-going Green, valuing both men’s strengths and flaws. And the two characters are richly developed over the course of the movie. Their cinematic aging over 16 years is as well done as the acting, with Hughes finding his voice and Green eventually losing his after hard living—and being pushed too hard by Hughes—led to his early death at 53.

The film ends in sentimentality, with an over-sweet reunion and funeral scene. Those last sappy five minutes are the price paid for a sometimes laugh-out-loud script as Green offends and entertains on the radio. Incidentally, since I’ve come into a habit of opining on shock jocks, it’s worth noting that Green doesn’t shock people with slurs (though he does make dirty jokes). He was shocking at the time because of his honesty, recalling Michael Kinsley’s famous observation that a gaffe is when a politician tells the truth. When Don Imus calls someone a “nappy-headed ho,” that’s not the truth, that’s an insult. When Green speaks with candor about racial oppression, or criticizes the head of Motown records for taking advantage of his clients, that’s speaking truth to power.

Tim Fernholz is the editor in chief of the Georgetown Voice and a contributing writer to CampusProgress.org. He can be reached at tfernholz@gmail.com.

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