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Talk to Me
Reviewed by Theo Michelfeld
Posted: July 31, 2007

Prior to seeing the new film Talk to Me, I had never heard of Ralph Waldo “Petey” Green. But, as the movie tells it, Petey’s relative obscurity was largely of his own choosing. The now-deceased African-American disc jockey became a local hero in Washington D.C. during the 60s and 70s, but turned his back on national stardom when he walked out onto The Tonight Show stage and told the mostly-white audience he had nothing to say to them. It was a moment of truth that destroyed Petey’s career, but, as the film points out, Petey Green’s funeral in 1984 drew tens of thousands of mourners. He remained beloved in his hometown.

The film stars Don Cheadle, whose performance as Petey Green is a tour-de-force. This frequently reserved actor completely disappears into the role of the loud-talking, loud-dressing ex-con whose life was like a verbal high-wire act. As the story begins, Green is incarcerated for armed robbery. He then literally talks his way out of jail, and, once free, talks his way into a job as morning DJ for a struggling D.C. radio station. Actor Chiwetel Ejiofor is excellent in the quieter role of Dewey Hughes, the station’s African-American program manager. Hughes basically stakes his career on Green, believing the DJ’s infectious voice, truth-telling style, and talent for rhyming and slanging his way through any given sentiment will restore the station’s reputation for connecting with the people. The risk pays off, overwhelmingly, and Green becomes a local celebrity.

Talk to Me is as much Hughes’ story as it is Green’s, and together they create a fascinating portrait of ambition. Both men, forging careers in the aftermath of the civil rights movement, become high-profile representatives of their race. But between them, only Dewey Hughes welcomes the mantle. Much of the film chronicles Hughes’ struggle to coach Green through near-petrifying uneasiness in the sudden absence of adversity. Meanwhile Hughes is well aware of his own shortcomings, and of the fact that willpower goes only so far without talent. As he tells Petey during an awesome pool hall showdown, “I need you to say the things I’m afraid to say, and you need me to do the things you’re afraid to do.”

Each has conditioned himself very differently against the same racist culture, and as the two men begin climbing their way to celebrity, the film’s theme of conflicting ambitions slowly co-mingles with a theme of conflicting dignities. Hughes is fearlessly diplomatic, and has spent his life proving he can do what any white man can do. Green, on the other hand, is fearlessly tactless, and has built a career speaking his mind no matter what the consequences. Hughes eventually tries to convert Green into a stand up comedian, but as the venues get whiter, Green becomes increasingly wary of sacrificing his integrity for the approval of mainstream America. The Tonight Show appearance brings it all to a head, and, inevitably, to an end.

Meanwhile, the movie makes its point, brilliantly: There is no one correct way to overcome an oppressive culture. And even a self-destructive act can, in some ways, be an act of self-preservation. It may prove to be an enlightening message for minority groups with division in their ranks, or indeed for well-meaning white people who wonder from time to time why they can’t get a consistent reading in a politically sensitive situation. Racial harmony is complex stuff, but a film like this can only help matters, with its thoughtful illustration of those complexities. It also introduces the mainstream to Petey Green, and at last, one can imagine, on Petey’s terms.

Copyright © 2007 Theo Michelfeld