BETTY BOWERS America's Best Christian
The beginning of the film was my favorite part. As an American Baptist, nothing says "feel good movie" like a pack of well groomed, cocktail swilling homosexuals being embarrassed or, better yet, arrested.
I found it troublesome that Harvey Milk is allegorically palmed off as a Jesus, only, of course, much more Jewish. Hanging around with a pack of men who showed no interest in women and then that messy "dying a martyr" affectation I had to roll my eyes. Of course, Jesus had the good sense not to be smote by some slob who sat around on shag carpeting in his underwear, gluttonously stuffing his face with Big Macs and snack cakes. Honestly, it's so unseemly to be murdered by someone like that.
The cast was conspicuously more handsome than the people being portrayed. It's always sadder when attractive people die.
I found Milk's Latin paramour desperately needy and relentlessly annoying. Hectoring Harvey with whiny phone calls and poorly penned notes. It was enough to make one wonder if Milk egged White on, just to get a moment's peace.
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