It was 1989. The hottest day of the summer in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. Spike Lee didn't just make a movie; he set a fuse. When Do the Right Thing hit theaters, it felt like a brick through a window. People were genuinely terrified. Critics like Joe Klein actually worried the film would incite riots across America. They thought the heat on screen would spill over into the streets. It didn't. Instead, it forced us to look at a mirror we’ve been trying to avoid for decades.
Looking back now, the film feels less like a period piece and more like a prophecy. It’s vibrant. It’s loud. It’s neon. But it’s also a gut-punch that refuses to go away.
The Block That Refused to Cool Down
Stuyvesant Avenue. That’s where it all happens. One single block.
Spike Lee, playing Mookie, isn't some heroic figure. He's just a guy trying to get paid. He works for Sal’s Famous Pizzeria, the last Italian-American business in a neighborhood that has shifted entirely around it. Sal, played by Danny Aiello, loves the neighborhood. Or he thinks he does. He’s been there twenty-five years. But the tension isn't about time; it's about space.
Who owns the wall? That’s the spark. Buggin' Out (Giancarlo Esposito) looks at Sal’s "Wall of Fame"—filled with Frank Sinatra, Sophia Loren, and Al Pacino—and asks a simple question: Why aren't there any brothers on the wall?
It seems small. Petty, even. Sal tells him to get his own pizza parlor if he wants to hang pictures. But in a neighborhood where the people buying the pizza don't see themselves reflected in the establishment they support, that "petty" grievance is actually a tectonic plate shifting. It’s about visibility. It’s about respect.
Honestly, the way Lee shoots this is brilliant. He uses "Dutch angles"—those tilted, off-kilter shots—to make you feel the literal heat and the metaphorical pressure. You feel dizzy just watching it. The colors are cranked up. Red walls. Yellow shirts. Everything is sweating. You can almost smell the asphalt melting.
Radio Raheem and the Sound of 1989
You can't talk about Do the Right Thing without talking about the noise. Public Enemy’s "Fight the Power" plays constantly. It’s the anthem. It’s the heartbeat. And it’s blasted through the massive boombox carried by Radio Raheem, played by the late Bill Nunn.
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Raheem is a giant of a man who rarely speaks. When he does, he delivers that famous monologue about Love and Hate, inspired by The Night of the Hunter. He wears "LOVE" and "HATE" brass knuckles. It’s a bit on the nose, sure, but it captures the internal struggle of the entire film.
The tragedy is that Radio Raheem is killed by the police because he wouldn't turn his music down.
Think about that. A man dies over a noise complaint that escalated because of a broken window and a damaged ego. When the police put Raheem in a chokehold, his feet dangle off the ground. The camera lingers. It's brutal. It's hauntingly familiar to anyone who has watched the news in the last ten years. Lee was drawing from the real-life 1986 death of Michael Stewart, a graffiti artist who died in police custody.
The film doesn't offer easy answers. It doesn't give you a "Kumbaya" moment. Instead, it ends with two conflicting quotes. One from Martin Luther King Jr. condemning violence. One from Malcolm X calling violence "intelligence" when used in self-defense.
Which one is right? Lee doesn't tell you. He lets the fire burn.
Why the Ending Still Sparks Arguments
People are still mad about Mookie throwing the trash can.
Let's break that down. After Radio Raheem is killed, the crowd is ready to explode. Mookie walks over, grabs a trash can, yells "Hate!", and hurls it through the window of Sal’s Pizzeria. The place is looted and burned to the ground.
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For years, white audiences asked Spike Lee: "Why did Mookie do it? Why did he destroy Sal's business?"
Lee’s response has always been sharp: He notes that almost nobody asks why the police killed the black man. They focus on the property damage.
Was Mookie trying to save Sal? Some theorists suggest that by directing the crowd's anger at the building, he diverted it away from Sal and his sons, potentially saving their lives. Others think Mookie just finally snapped. He saw his friend murdered and realized that his paycheck would never buy him true belonging in Sal’s world.
There is no "right thing" in the end. There's just the aftermath.
The Style That Changed Cinema
Visually, Do the Right Thing broke every rule in the book. Ernest Dickerson, the cinematographer, did things with light that people are still trying to copy.
- The Smeared Lens: They used actual heat lamps and orange gels to make the film look hot.
- The Breaking of the Fourth Wall: The "racial slur" montage, where characters look directly into the camera and shout every stereotype imaginable, is uncomfortable. It’s supposed to be. It shows that beneath the surface-level "getting along," everyone is carrying around a bag of poison.
- The Costumes: Ruth Carter, the costume designer (who later won an Oscar for Black Panther), used vibrant African-inspired patterns and street style that defined the era.
This wasn't just a movie; it was a cultural reset. It proved that "Black cinema" didn't have to be one specific thing. It could be experimental, political, funny, and tragic all at once.
Lessons We Keep Learning (and Ignoring)
So, what do we actually take away from this 1989 masterpiece?
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First off, gentrification isn't new. The character of Clifton, the white guy in the Larry Bird jersey who accidentally scuffs Buggin' Out's Jordans, is the canary in the coal mine. He bought a brownstone. He’s "improving" the neighborhood. But he doesn't fit. That tension over who belongs in a neighborhood is exactly what we’re seeing in Brooklyn, Austin, and Oakland today.
Secondly, communication is usually a lie. Everyone in the movie talks at each other. Nobody listens. Da Mayor (Ossie Davis) tries to give advice. Mother Sister (Ruby Dee) watches from her window. They see everything, but they can't stop the train wreck.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Viewer
If you’re watching or re-watching Do the Right Thing today, here is how to actually engage with it:
- Watch the Feet: Notice the shoes. In 1989, sneakers were a status symbol and a marker of identity. The scene where the Jordan is scuffed is about more than leather; it's about the "territory" of the body.
- Look for the "Heat": Pay attention to when the camera starts tilting. The more the tension rises, the more the angles become extreme.
- Read the Quotes: Don't skip the text at the end. Research the context of Michael Stewart and Eleanor Bumpurs. Understanding the real-world deaths that inspired the film changes how you view the climax.
- Listen to the Score: Bill Lee (Spike’s father) wrote a jazz score that contrasts wildly with the Public Enemy track. It represents the older generation's rhythm versus the new generation's roar.
The film ends the next morning. The sun comes up. It’s going to be even hotter than the day before. Mookie asks for his money. Sal complains about his store. The cycle starts over.
We haven't fixed the "heat" yet. We've just gotten better at pretending we aren't burning. Do the Right Thing remains essential because it refuses to let us look away from the smoke.
To truly understand the impact, your next step should be to watch Spike Lee’s 2020 short film 3 Brothers, which directly links the death of Radio Raheem to the real-life deaths of Eric Garner and George Floyd. It bridges the gap between 1989 and the present, showing that the "Right Thing" is still something we are desperately trying to find.