The film overreaches at regular intervals. At one point, George says, "A lot of folks like to compare the Fort Greene-Clinton Hill scene to the Harlem Renaissance, but that's not a perfect comparison." He then makes the claim that the Harlem Renaissance was mostly literature and a little jazz, while his thing was much broader. I dunno; if you were stranded on a desert island, would you prefer to console yourself with the work of Langston Hughes and Nella Larsen? Or Wesley Snipes and the guy who got in a fight with Julie on the first Real World? That would be Kevin Powell, who the film implies is a Brooklyn poet in the tradition of Walt Whitman. Elsewhere addressing the literary prehistory of the area, George gives Richard Wright a fine salute. But in his haste to associate his hero with his 'hood, George fails to drop the fascinating factoid that, at another time, Wright lived in Brooklyn Heights, in the same house as W. H. Auden, Carson McCullers, and Gypsy Rose Lee, who I assume hogged the bathroom.
Source: http://feeds.slate.com/click.phdo?i=8d27002d244972fb2c76a8a3ea54d9d4
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