"Milk" gives a hero his due

The final word spoken in Gus Van Sant's marvelously eloquent biopic "Milk" is "hope," and that's no coincidence: Harvey Milk, the San Francisco gay politician who was tragically murdered in 1978 at the age of 48, devoted his short life to giving hope.

A tireless speaker and campaigner on behalf of gay rights (and the rights of all in the San Francisco district he was eventually elected to represent on the city board), Milk's life has previously been seen on the screen only in Rob Epstein's landmark 1984 documentary "The Times of Harvey Milk." Many of us remember the man from that film: the big ears; the wide smile; the raspy voice with its Long Island cadences; the love he seemed to inspire from those who surrounded him, even those who might initially disagree with his message. Milk was no saint (he was, as this movie entertainingly shows, a consummate politician), but he became an icon and a hero for many.

Van Sant's film (and why did it take 24 years after the documentary to make this stirring, heartbreaking story a feature film?) finally gives Milk his due — and becomes an immediate classic of gay cinema. "Milk," though, is for everyone. Those who appreciate fine acting will be engrossed by the uniformly excellent performances in this film; those who know little about the gay-rights movement will be informed by it; those who simply want to be entertained by a well-made drama will be unable to look away.

Sean Penn doesn't look much like Milk, but he becomes the man before our eyes, slipping effortlessly into the familiar voice ("I'm Hahvey Milk") and slipshod charm. (Perpetually broke, Milk wore ill-fitted suits purchased from the neighborhood dry cleaner; Penn struts in them proudly.) The actor lets us see how Milk thrives on the affection of a room, whether it be his perpetually crowded makeshift campaign headquarters or a vast audience at a rally, where his speeches thrill the crowd. After speaking, he throws out his arms, leans backward and basks in the moment, letting the adulation feed his heart. And Penn is movingly intense in the movie's quiet moments, as Harvey talks alone to a tape recorder late at night in his Castro apartment, hesitantly making plans just in case he should meet an assassin's bullet.

Each actor wonderfully sketches a complex character: Emile Hirsch is funny and fidgety as young activist Cleve Jones, Milk's busiest staffer; James Franco is lovingly subdued as Harvey's sometime partner Scott Smith; Alison Pill is drolly fiery as campaign manager Anne Kronenberg. Josh Brolin, so breezy and loose in "W.," here is clenched tight as Dan White, the conservative city politician whose resentment of Milk exploded into violence. In the office, they seem to speak different languages. "Can two men reproduce?" White asks Milk, rhetorically yet seriously. "No," says Milk, with a naughty smile. "But God knows we keep trying."

Dustin Lance Black's smart screenplay blends newsreel footage (some familiar, from "The Times of Harvey Milk") with the actors' scenes, and Van Sant makes it all a warmhearted remembrance, complete with numerous vintage photographs, to a man gone too soon and a reminder of a fight not yet won. The film is book ended with scenes of Milk alone with his tape recorder — framed, appropriately, through an open door.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725

or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com