Truth and film. They often go hand in hand. In general, movies based on real-life stories take portions of those tales and weave them into the cinematic fabric. Frequently, these pictures also embellish certain scenes, bits of dialogue, elements of action. If a work is good enough, the audience will find it credible. The best flicks in this genre therefore provide two kinds of truth: the one based on the veracity of the facts documented on the screen, and the other based on viewers’ capacity to subscribe to the messages they convey.

Spike Lee’s latest offering, BlacKkKlansman (2018), falls into this category.

It’s a masterpiece and, despite the presence of interesting but poorly executed duds such as Bamboozled (2000) on the director’s resume, solidifies Lee’s status as one of the world’s greatest filmmakers, while augmenting his successes ranging from Do the Right Thing (1989) to Malcolm X (1992). There aren’t many people in cinema today who have a distinct, highly identifiable style when it comes to perspective, cinematography, lighting and composition. Martin Scorsese does. Quentin Tarantino does as well. This is not necessarily a mark of brilliance; we must remember that Oliver Stone has recognizable moviecrafting trademarks, too, and more often than not, they’ve led to celluloid excess and incoherence. But Lee’s artistry elevates him to this rarely reached group without compromising the overall caliber of his body of work. Even failures such as Bamboozled have things to like—for example, the aforementioned picture features a powerful ending that showcases images of racist paraphernalia set to sobering music. Lee is a helmsman whom we must recognize as one of the best in the business.

Not everyone, however, believes his most recent “joint,” as the director calls his films in the credits, is as laudable as I believe it is. Sorry to Bother You (2018) director/writer Boots Riley recently wrote a strong letter slamming the flick and its depiction of its protagonist, Ron Stallworth, whose book about his experiences as an African-American police officer in Colorado Springs, Colorado—during which he infiltrated a local Ku Klux Klan chapter and even spoke on the phone with then-KKK Grand Wizard and political aspirant David Duke—informed and was the inspiration for Lee’s movie. Riley did bring up some good points: that portions of the picture, including a scene where a bigoted cop is caught in a sting by Stallworth’s colleagues and a sequence in which the wife of a KKK member sets off a bomb, were fabricated, and that the hero of BlacKkKlansman had an instrumental role in working undercover among the Black Panthers … an operation that, Riley alleges, was misrepresented in the movie and served the interests of U.S. intelligence efforts that aimed to undermine the organization’s legitimate, non-dangerous initiatives. Additionally, Riley suggests in his critique that BlacKkKlansman aimed to paint cops in a fairer light than they deserve, given their historical, general mistreatment of African-American civilians. In short, it appears that Riley is accusing Lee of being a sellout when it comes to images of the police and black individuals, that the latter director is fiddling with the facts in order to please a constituent audience. That’s a pretty powerful charge. And Riley does make his argument clear and straightforward.

Yet he’s wrong, and I’d like to explain why. My simplest reason: BlacKkKlansman is a movie. An entertainment. A thrilling, grueling, frightening piece of art that certainly takes liberties with its subject matter but remains in a long line of cinematic endeavors that have done so as historical fiction. Are we to believe everything that happened in Spartacus (1960) occurred in real life? How about in Lawrence of Arabia (1962)? Gandhi (1982)? Glory (1989)? Schindler’s List (1993)? These are all masterpieces of celluloid; still, they all, though based on true events, were not recounted verbatim. Dialogue was invented for all of these flicks. Great dialogue, for sure, but still made up … and for a reason that involves a combination of artistic license, the need to sound “real”, the mandate for believable conversation and the determination on the part of the makers that these works would remain in the public consciousness not only as historical documents, but also as magnum opuses aimed at pleasing, delighting, saddening and perturbing audiences. Even a movie such as The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), despite the fact that its screenplay derived from the actual transcripts of the titular personality’s trial, must be regarded as a distortion of factual truth owing to the editing, cinematography, lighting, performances and direction conveying specific outlooks on the participants, who are regarded in the movie as, at the very least, unfair. Not that that wouldn’t, perhaps, be a judgment we, as an audience, could come to our own conclusion about without such motivation, yet this fact indicates something very true in its own peculiar way.

Movies based on real-life events have no way of being completely accurate.

My Dinner with Andre (1981) has significant editing that reveals reaction shots of the two participants at the delightful meal enjoyed in the picture. Derek Jarman’s Blue (1993) may not show anything onscreen besides the credits and a blue block of color, but sounds and speech communicate his thoughts and ideas to the viewer. For true veracity, one might think of turning to documentaries, but even these present issues, particularly when it comes to the editing of the talking heads and historical images, newsreels, outside shots and even the settings in which the participants voice their opinions. And documentaries often have perspectives, too, which aim, like feature-fiction films, to persuade audiences to agree with what they have to say. Some ask watchers to come to their own conclusions. Is that any less of a motive, however, than creating a work based on truth but tweaked for cohesion, time, context and quality? When Rutger Hauer allegedly changed parts of his final lines in Blade Runner (1982) from how they were written previously, did he distort the truth of the original material? Or did he create a new, more beautiful truth?

Yes, such changes occur in films founded on fictional sources as well, as this frequently has resulted in vocal condemnations from fan bases across the earth. Witness what happened with Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003) trilogy, which, during the making of these films, saw lines being moved to different characters, myriad elves taking part in the Battle of the Hornburg, and Gollum fighting with Frodo on the precipice of Mount Doom for control of the ring, which ends with them both falling off the cliff.

Yeah …. that’s not exactly how it happens in the book.

Is it wrong, though? Is it still satisfying? I never agreed with David Lean’s ending for his otherwise definitive version of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations (1946), which showed Pip tearing down the curtains surrounding Estella, who in this version is in the process of becoming a recluse like her mentor Miss Havisham. The novel’s final published ending (and there was an alternate one that was slightly more ambiguous and negative) had no such wackiness. Yet I think Lean liked it because it’s theatrical. I’m not partial to this interpretation, but I accept it. He had every right to change what he wanted to change.

So BlacKkKlansman is not alone in this regard, fiction or nonfiction. In fact, it’s in good company. In this age of “reimagining” historical events, from Zack Snyder’s interminable Watchmen (2009)—which posits an unpleasant world where Nixon is still president—to Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds (2009), a picture that envisions Third Reich leader Adolf Hitler’s demise in a blizzard of bullets, I find Lee’s interpretation much more refreshing and credible than the usual celluloid suspects plopped on us by Hollywood and “inspired by true events.” That scene in Inglourious Basterds particularly irritated me, as it was pure fantasy and much less “satisfying” to me as a Jew who has known and interviewed Holocaust survivors, than the reality of Hitler’s death, which occurred in a bunker as he, despondent over his world-dominating failure, took cyanide and shot himself rather than get caught—like the coward he was. And nearly as off-putting is Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy (2004), which at one point segues into something akin to a “10 days later” text leading to the conquering of the eponymous city … a ridiculous, almost offensive adjustment of the Homeric myth that recounted how it took 10 years for the war to end.

That’s taking liberties, folks. And Lee doesn’t do anything nearly as awful in BlacKkKlansman.

In response to Riley’s other points, however, there are a number of good verbal defenses. Like all of Lee’s great films, BlacKkKlansman provides us with complex characters. Near the opening of the movie, Stallworth, played with incredible intensity by John David Washington, is shown being interviewed by two people: the Caucasian head of the Colorado Springs police department and an African-American official. Stallworth sports an afro. He’s dressed smartly, in the mode of the 1970s, when this picture takes place. He is asked a number of disturbing questions, including how he’d react to situations involving racism. He’s even called a “soul brother” in a disparaging way by the official. This is obviously uncomfortable for Stallworth, yet he handles every question with aplomb and is hired.

Then he encounters more racism … from other cops themselves.

It’s hurtful, cringe-inducing. During the whole film, you, as a viewer, may feel like all hell is about to break loose at any given moment. When Stallworth is assigned as an undercover agent to monitor and report on the activities of a local Black Panthers meeting, it’s clearly meant as a mean-spirited test for him provided by his supervisor. Still, he does it, and this is one of the arguments that Riley gets wrong.

Stallworth sits in a room with a number of college students to listen to Kwame Ture, previously known as Stokely Carmichael, who had been affiliated with the Black Panthers movement. In a scene that spoke to the most extraordinary moments of cinema I ever have experienced, Lee lets Carmichael, portrayed superbly by Corey Hawkins, give his talk while incorporating shots of multiple faces watching him in amazement and appreciation. The speech, which is long and does not explicitly advocate direct violence with law enforcement or authorities, does not feel protracted owing to this technique. Instead, it is conveyed as a condemnation of injustice and harm done to African Americans by the white establishment. Stallworth is shown multiple times, and it is apparent that he is convinced by Carmichael’s words as well, even though he is there to keep an eye out for malfeasance. As such, his character is highly layered. He is doing something professionally that he may not necessarily agree with, despite the fact that he admits to love interest Patrice (again, a terrific performance, this time by Laura Harrier) that he dislikes the use of “pigs” as a label to describe policemen. Professional and personal conflict here, and it’s the mark of a developed, three-dimensional personality. I’d give Lee a lot more credit here than Riley does, and even when Stallworth in the film is given guidance by Ture that intimates the use of violence, our protagonist dismisses this in a later scene with his supervisor as just talk. Part of the enjoyment of this picture stems from its refusal to cut clichés out of cardboard and stand them up onscreen. The Black Panthers aren’t particularly demonized in this flick. In fact, they’re given a chance to say a number of introspective things.

Meanwhile, Lee’s control over the camera rings true through and through, from a dance scene involving Stallworth and Patrice that is all red luminousness, warm music and close-shot feet to the horrifying sequences set among members of the KKK, all of whom are prejudiced beyond belief. Expletives and slurs abound. Stallworth’s Jewish partner in the film, judiciously played by Adam Driver, is subjected to all sorts of scrutiny that always seems to threaten exposure … particularly during a tense sequence where one of the meanest, most vicious KKK members attempts to administer a lie detector test on the individual to prove that he’s not a Jew. The parts highlighting the phone conversations with Duke, who is conveyed with both menace and scary affability by Topher Grace, are gripping, as is the segment involving the bomb and its activation. Never mind that this may not have happened. It’s edge-of-your-seat, yell-at-the-screen, fear-sparking, heart-palpitating movie craftsmanship in the vein of Alfred Hitchcock, Sidney Lumet or Henri-Georges Clouzot and warrants inclusion through its application alone. Images toward the end showing the reflection of a cross burning through the eyeholes of a hooded KKK ritualist will stick with me forever, like the finales of The 400 Blows (1959) or Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972). And Lee’s mix of a story told by an elderly black man (Harry Belafonte, aged but still tremendously moving) about his friend’s lynching in the early part of the 20^th century, interspersed with the Klan’s terrifyingly hate-filled ceremonies, which culminate in a viewing of D.W. Griffith’s notorious picture The Birth of a Nation (1915) that is alluded to by Belafonte’s character as part of the impetus for the murder, rank with the montage in The Godfather (1972) linking Michael Corleone’s ordered assassinations with the baptism of his child as one of the most important cinematic accomplishments in the last 100 years, owing to the combination of irony, loathsomeness and supposed grace in the face of violence and eradication. It’s moviemaking 101, in my opinion, and should be shown to film students worldwide. This is what Lee’s skill is all about and why it resonates so crisply.

As for Riley’s criticisms of Lee’s purported light touch with his depictions of the police: Sure, the bar scene during which the bad cop is caught seems pat, effective as it is. And yes, Stallworth, though divided inside, is still portrayed as a hero who comes to the rescue of Patrice and has an exceptional moral code. Still, Lee pulls no punches when it comes to the racism Stallworth endures from his own colleagues—and even provides us with a clock-ticking scene in which Stallworth, in wrestling the KKK member’s wife who planted the bomb in Patrice’s house, is stopped by two white cops who believe he’s trying to assault/rape her, in part owing to her protestations, as well as due to his plainclothes appearance … and another appearance to boot: His blackness. Lee is definitely showing the injustice here, and it’s magnified when Stallworth’s supervisor closes the case and orders the documentation to be destroyed, as if everything has been solved and all participants can go home with the satisfaction of knowing the job was well done. No need to keep investigating other members of the KKK, right? There are some “good” people there.

Riley may see BlacKkKlansman as irresponsible, but I don’t. There are other films that are much worse in that regard and even may be deemed classics, such as Lindsay Anderson’s If…. (1968), which ends with grenades and bullets flying all over the place at a British public school. I’d also cite Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967), brilliant as it is, as an example of this problem; it basically glorifies two hardened, violent crooks from America’s past. And then, of course, there’s that “classic” I’ve always hated, Gone with the Wind (1939), which aims to show us how wonderful antebellum life was in the Southern part of the United States, especially for black slaves, who, if you believe the nonsense spewed by this picture’s messaging, enjoyed what they did and were almost universally stupid. Not coincidentally, a clip from the latter flick showing the scores of Confederate wounded and their tattered flag opens BlacKkKlansman. If you want to talk irresponsibility, I’d talk about the movies I’ve just referenced—not Lee’s latest “joint.” Plus, the fact that you can buy Gone with the Wind via online shops all over the Internet proves Lee’s perspective in BlacKkKlansman, supplemented with actual footage from the recent violence in Charlottesville, Virginia, that resulted in the death of a young woman who was hit by a car driven by a repugnant neo-Nazi, isn’t wrong. Ultimately, racism is still being shopped, marketed … and elected. In light of that, Stallworth isn’t the bad guy, here. Neither is Lee.

But bigotry and its adherents sure as heck are. Thankfully, with important pictures such as BlacKkKlansman, the ideologies and activities that incite these behaviors may be countered in an appropriate manner. And through what I hope would be consistent, frequent showings, including at theaters, schools and other institutions in my home country of America and beyond, Lee’s work will go a long way to ensure hatred of people for their colors, races, religions, abilities, ages, genders, and orientations will be mitigated by diffuseness, dilution and, ultimately, evaporation. We probably won’t get to that stage right away. But it’s not an unreachable goal.

Given Stallworth’s efforts on this matter, as well as the delivery of movies such as BlacKkKlansman, you could say we’re heading in the right direction already.