Milk 2008

As the curtain rises on this poignant film, a nostalgic montage unfolds, transporting viewers back to the tumultuous 1950s and early 1960s. Grainy black-and-white newsreel footage flickers across the screen, chronicling a bygone era of brutal police crackdowns on gay bars. Newspaper headlines from that period flash by, their stark language painting a picture of fear and oppression: “Crackdown of Homosexual Bars”, “Men Charged in Taverns”, and more. The men themselves - dapperly dressed, well-groomed, and utterly humiliated - are rounded up, roughed up, and loaded into paddy wagons with their dignity left shattered on the pavement. Some sit in cramped rooms, awaiting questioning and photographic documentation, their faces etched with a deep sense of loss.

The narrative thread is woven through the film by Harvey Milk (played by Sean Penn), whose haunting voice recites a letter recorded in 1978, meant to be read only in the event of his assassination. As he speaks, we’re treated to glimpses of Milk addressing various groups - from LGBT crowds to burly union workers - with opening lines that perfectly capture his wit and charm. In front of his fellow activists, he boldly declares, “My name is Harvey Milk, and I want to recruit you.” Elsewhere, he adapts his tone for a more unexpected audience, saying with a wink, “My name is Harvey Milk, and sorry I am not what you expected, but I left my high heels at home.”

Through his narration, Milk paints a stark portrait of the gay activists who dared to be visible, making them targets for their courage. The film then takes us on a journey through pivotal moments in history, beginning with 1970 New York and culminating in the tragic events that would forever change the course of American politics.

As Harvey Milk (Sean Penn), resplendent in his crisp gray suit and sporting an air of quiet confidence, locks eyes with the charismatic Scott Smith (James Franco) on a bustling New York City subway platform, the chemistry between them is palpable. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Milk takes the initiative, striking up a conversation that flows effortlessly from introductions to shared birthday woes, as they converge like magnets. The “meet cute” moment yields a tender kiss, with Milk’s wry humor and Smith’s affable nature creating an instant sense of connection.

As their relationship blossoms, Milk invites Smith back to his apartment, where they pass the time sipping orange juice and swaying to the rhythm of their shared favorite tunes. The evening takes a romantic turn as they shed their shirts and delve into conversations about the struggles and triumphs of gay life in 1970s New York City. Milk cautions Smith about the dangers of picking up men in public, warning him that some may be undercover cops using bait-and-switch tactics to harass homosexuals. He offers to show Smith safe places to socialize, asking where he’s from (Jackson, Mississippi) and sharing his own birthday celebrations, which, despite being a milestone, bring little joy.

As the film jumps forward, their “meet cute” turns into a full-fledged romance. Milk’s once-short hair grows long and unruly, complemented by a scraggly beard, while Smith sports a tidy mustache and a haircut reminiscent of Jack Tripper. Together, they embark on a cross-country adventure, capturing memories with a home movie camera and reveling in each other’s company. The carefree joy they share is infectious, as they laugh, love, and live life to the fullest.

As the year 1972 marked the passage of time, the once-vibrant Haight & Ashbury district had transformed into a desolate landscape, devoid of the carefree spirit and creativity that defined its heyday. The streets were now scarred by the lingering shadows of drugs and drug dealers, leaving a trail of abandoned storefronts and homes. Refugees from this erstwhile hub of hippie culture flocked to the Castro, where they found solace in a new community of gay men who had also fled their own troubled territories.

In this newly adopted neighborhood, Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) lived with his partner Scott Smith in a cozy apartment, struggling to make ends meet. As Smith pondered their uncertain future, Milk took it upon himself to capture the beauty around them through photography. His candid shots of Smith sparked an idea - they would open a camera shop in the vacant storefront on Market Street that had caught Milk’s eye earlier.

With a wooden sign bearing the name “Castro Camera” proudly displayed, Milk and Smith embarked on their new venture. The proprietor of the nearby liquor store, however, made his disdain for their presence known, protesting with a mixture of disdain and disapproval. Undeterred, Milk asked how they could join the Eureka Valley Merchant’s Association, only to be met with the sobering truth: if they opened their shop, the police would inevitably shut them down.

The liquor store owner’s parting shot - “There are man’s laws, and there is God’s law” - left no doubt about the unwelcome nature of gay men in this predominantly Irish-Catholic neighborhood. As Milk stood firm on the legal right to open a business, it became clear that their pursuit of happiness would not be without its challenges.

As Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) and Scott Smith settled into their new camera shop, they took a bold step forward. The apartment, now a symbol of their commitment to each other, became the backdrop for a pivotal moment on Smith’s birthday. With a flair for the dramatic, Milk meticulously set the table for an opulent dinner, pouring his heart out about the camera shop being a catalyst for change. He envisioned a movement born from the collective power of gay-owned businesses, with lists detailing those that welcomed and rejected their customers. This master plan would allow the LGBT community to reclaim entire blocks, then streets, and eventually, the iconic Castro neighborhood, transforming it into a beacon of acceptance.

Smith’s skepticism was met with Milk’s characteristic wit, as he asked his partner to join him in the dining room for a birthday surprise. The elaborate spread only added to the festive atmosphere, but it was soon upended by a playful pie attack from Milk. As they retreated to the bedroom, shouting “Sanctuary!” and abandoning all thoughts of dinner, the seeds of revolution had been sown.

The Castro’s transformation into Gay Destination #1 was swift and profound. The police, ever at odds with the LGBT community, continued their longstanding hostility. However, the list of approved gay-friendly businesses had a profound impact. Those that refused to adapt were left in the dust as gay-hating establishments faltered. Even the liquor store owner from earlier in the film underwent a change of heart when he realized the financial benefits of catering to the gay community. His shop became a hub of activity, filled with half-naked men indulging in their favorite vices.

As Milk departed the now-gay-friendly liquor store, his laughter echoed through the aisles. The establishment had earned its place on the coveted “good list,” and the impact was palpable. In this new landscape, the LGBT community had taken a crucial step towards claiming their rightful place in society, with Harvey Milk at the forefront of the movement.

In the midst of his burgeoning activism, Harvey Milk (Harvey Fierstein) found himself at the center of a vibrant social scene, as a coterie of charismatic young men, including art student Danny Nicolletta (who harbored a passion for opera), Harvard-educated Jim Revaldo, Dick Pavitch, and Dennis Perone, among others, gravitated to his camera shop. Some of these individuals sparked Milk’s romantic interest, despite his commitment to Scott Smith (Richard Silbert). This period marked the beginning of a series of pivotal events that would cement Milk’s reputation as a force to be reckoned with in the struggle for gay rights.

The Coors Beer Boycott proved to be the first significant test of Milk’s mettle. As union leaders struggled to persuade Coors to yield to their demands, Milk vowed to topple the company from its perch atop San Francisco’s beer sales charts. With the gay community rallying behind him, Milk orchestrated a successful boycott that ultimately led Coors to capitulate. In return, he extracted a crucial concession: the union would henceforth hire openly gay drivers. This triumph earned Milk the nickname “The Mayor of Castro Street,” a title he humbly acknowledged as his own invention.

However, this period was also marked by escalating tensions between the LGBT community and the police. The authorities, often donning masks to conceal their identities, launched surprise raids on gay bars, forcibly removing patrons from the premises and brutalizing them in the streets. In an effort to avoid beatings, men would hide in bathroom stalls as the police stormed through the bars, only to be arrested for “obstructing traffic” once they emerged.

Milk’s response to these egregious abuses was straightforward: if the LGBT community had a champion in government, someone who could speak out on their behalf and advocate for their interests, such mistreatment would cease. With characteristic bravado, Milk declared, “I’m here, and I’m going to get attention.” His words were a clarion call to action, signaling his determination to use his platform to effect real change in the lives of those he represented.

As the streets of San Francisco’s Castro district reverberate with tension in 1973, the LGBT community remains trapped in a precarious limbo. The air is thick with unease as men take to the sidewalks, armed with whistles that serve as a beacon for solidarity and aid. When a whistle pierces the air, it signals a call to action, summoning brave souls to rush forth and lend a helping hand to those in peril. Amidst this backdrop of vulnerability, a haunting image etches itself into the collective consciousness: a whistle lying abandoned on the blood-soaked pavement, its reflective surface distorted by the gruesome tableau.

It is here that Harvey Milk (played by Harvey Milk) intervenes, his voice raised in protest as he confronts the dismissive attitude of a police officer. The cop’s flippant response to the brutal murder of a gay man, reduced to a mere “prostitute” killed by a “trick,” sparks a fire within Milk. He seizes the whistle, its metallic surface now bearing witness to the officer’s callous indifference, and pockets it as a symbol of his unyielding determination to challenge the status quo.

With soapbox in hand (emblazoned with the words “SOAP” in bold letters) and megaphone at the ready, Milk assumes his position on a street corner, his voice booming out to the gathering crowd. His opening salvo, “My fellow degenerates,” serves as a clarion call to attention, followed by a scathing indictment of the police department’s complicity in the persecution of gay bars. He demands accountability, insisting that taxpayer funds be redirected from protection to protection – not persecution.

With his campaign officially underway, Milk embarks on a whirlwind tour of barber shops, street corners, and other gathering points, rallying the community behind his bold vision: to become the first openly gay man elected to office in the United States (and possibly the world). His impassioned pleas and unyielding resolve serve as a clarion call to action, inspiring a movement that would forever alter the political landscape.

As Harvey Milk’s political aspirations take shape, his path crosses with that of Cleve Jones, a charismatic young individual who seems to be drifting through life as a male escort. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, Milk is drawn to Jones’ sharp wit and intellect, repeatedly attempting to draw him into conversations about politics and social change. However, Jones remains lukewarm, citing his impending departure for Spain as the reason he can’t get involved. The two share a brief moment of connection when Jones reveals his Phoenix roots, prompting Milk to wonder aloud about the treatment of gay boys in gym class there - a topic that resonates deeply with Jones, who always managed to extricate himself from physical education by feigning illness.

Milk sees an opportunity to galvanize change not just on the streets of San Francisco, but also in Phoenix and beyond. He implores Jones to channel his natural charisma towards a noble cause, suggesting that even the most hardened cynic can make a positive impact when motivated by a sense of purpose.

As Milk’s political ambitions continue to soar, he realizes that securing a major endorsement is crucial to his chances of winning the Supervisor election. However, he knows that the big-money establishment will only support established politicians like Diane Feinstein, who already has an arsenal of campaign funds at her disposal. Undeterred, Milk sets out to secure a high-profile backing for himself.

Meanwhile, the increasingly vitriolic nature of the opposition’s attacks on Milk becomes apparent. His office is bombarded with ominous messages and crude drawings depicting him being subjected to gruesome violence. While his trusted aide, Scott Smith, is understandably shaken by these threats, Milk views them as an opportunity to reclaim power. By displaying the most egregious example - a cartoonish depiction of himself being assaulted with knives, bombs, and blood squirting from his eyes and groin - on his fridge, he effectively renders it harmless.

Smith cautions Milk that he’s taking a tremendous risk by not retreating from the political fray, given the lack of endorsements and financial support behind him. However, Milk remains resolute in his conviction that this election is about more than just winning; it’s about standing up for what he believes in, even when the stakes are high.

Ultimately, Milk’s decision to run as an openly gay man defies the conventional wisdom that only established politicians can succeed. His willingness to confront adversity head-on serves as a powerful testament to his unwavering commitment to his values and his people.

As the sun beats down on David Goodwin’s opulent estate, Milk and Smith make their way to the esteemed owner of The Advocate, hoping to secure the coveted endorsement that will propel their campaign forward. The lush surroundings and sparkling pool seem an idyllic backdrop for a meeting, but Milk’s unorthodox approach soon turns heads. As James Franco’s Goodwin watches with amusement, Smith strips naked and dives into the crystal-clear waters, leaving nothing to the imagination. After emerging from the pool, still sans attire, Smith joins Milk, Goodwin, and his lover at a business meeting, his bold move leaving the gathering in stunned silence.

Goodwin, however, is unfazed by the unexpected turn of events, instead focusing on the substance of their proposal. He reveals that he only uses his vast resources and influence to support gay causes through discreet means, preferring to operate beneath the radar rather than making a splash. He warns Milk that winning a city-wide office such as Supervisor requires broad-based support, not just the enthusiasm of the Castro district’s residents. Goodwin’s words strike a chord with Milk, who had been banking on the endorsement of The Advocate to galvanize his campaign.

The meeting concludes with Goodwin declining their request, leaving Milk and Smith to depart with a sense of disappointment and frustration. Their subsequent loss in the Supervisor race serves as a harsh reminder that appearances can be deceiving, and that sometimes, it takes more than just passion to win over the hearts and minds of voters.

Fast-forwarding to 1975, Milk has undergone a transformation, shedding his beard and long hair to return to his insurance salesman persona from years past. He attributes his initial loss to being perceived as too radical for the broader San Francisco electorate, recognizing that he needed to tone down his image to appeal to a wider audience. Smith, however, is less than thrilled with this new direction, feeling that it compromises their core values.

Despite this setback, Milk’s campaign continues to gain momentum, and he ultimately loses the 1975 race by a narrower margin than before. His mantra for future campaigns becomes clear: incremental progress, no matter how small, is still progress. The seeds of perseverance are sown, setting the stage for his eventual run at a higher office.

In 1976, Milk sets his sights on the California State Assembly, pitting himself against formidable foe John Agnos in what promises to be an uphill battle. During their debate, Agnos offers some sage advice: “Your message is a downer. What are you for? You only talk about what you’re against, and you don’t give voters a reason to hope or any optimism to vote for you. If you can’t offer them something to look forward to, you’re doomed.” Milk’s inability to articulate a compelling vision for the future leaves him vulnerable to Agnos’ well-crafted attack. The Machine candidate’s words strike a chord deep within Milk, forcing him to reexamine his campaign strategy and refocus on inspiring hope in those he seeks to represent.

As Milk’s political aspirations continue to engulf his every waking moment, Scott, his campaign manager, finds himself suffocating under the weight of constant activism. Their apartment has become a hub of activity, with people flowing in and out at all hours, leaving Scott feeling like he’s drowning in a sea of politicking. Despite being deeply invested in Milk’s cause, Scott yearns for a sense of normalcy, craving the simple pleasures of life, like sharing a quiet dinner with his partner.

But such moments are few and far between. When Scott finally manages to corral everyone out of their apartment, he and Milk settle in for a meal that is both delicious and desperately needed. As they savor each bite, Milk launches into an impassioned speech about the importance of this election, but Scott’s frustration boils over, and he makes it clear that he’s had enough. He wants to leave politics behind and focus on building a life free from the constant influx of strangers.

As the tension dissipates, and the evening wears on, Milk and Scott share a tender moment, their laughter and affection a balm to the stresses of the campaign trail. Though Scott remains committed to helping Milk achieve his goals, he’s determined to do so without sacrificing their personal life or compromising his own sense of self.

Meanwhile, as the clock strikes midnight, Milk takes a solitary stroll down Market Street, the darkness punctuated only by the faint hum of city lights. Suddenly, a car pulls up behind him, and a figure emerges from the shadows, trailing him like a ghostly companion. Spooked, Milk quickens his pace, but Cleve Jones, a familiar face from his past, materializes at their apartment door, bearing news that leaves Milk feeling uneasy.

As the truth slowly unfolds, it becomes clear that Jones’ presence is merely a coincidence, and not the harbinger of doom he initially feared. Instead, Jones has returned to San Francisco after a tumultuous relationship in Spain, with nothing but his suitcase and a broken heart. Milk, ever the empathetic soul, offers him refuge, and as they sit together in the quiet hours of the morning, he imparts a piece of wisdom that will resonate throughout the years: that it’s only in hindsight we truly come to understand who the love of our lives has been all along.

In this poignant moment, Milk is sharing not just his own hard-won insights but also offering a glimpse into the complexities of human relationships. As he counsels Jones on the importance of embracing the unknown and having fun exploring the possibilities, it becomes clear that Milk himself has learned these valuable lessons through his own experiences. This quiet interlude serves as a powerful reminder that, no matter how tumultuous life may become, we must always cherish the beauty in our relationships and the wisdom they bring.

As Jones recounts his experience at a gay rights march in Spain, he speaks of a pivotal moment when drag queens, pelted with rubber bullets, bled profusely yet refused to be deterred. The streets ran red with their blood, but the protesters persevered, undaunted by the violence. Jones’ words serve as a testament to the unyielding spirit of those who marched in solidarity.

Meanwhile, Harvey Milk, the pioneering gay rights activist, shares his vision for revolutionizing the LGBT community in California. He implores Jones to rally 1000 people within an hour, asking if he’s prepared to take a stand. Jones, brimming with confidence, asserts that nothing is beyond his capabilities and that one day, Milk will be working under his leadership. With the polls set to open mere hours later, Milk suggests they start by canvassing the bus stops together.

A dominant force throughout this narrative is Anita Bryant, the charismatic yet malevolent figure who embodies the fervor of the Christian right-wing movement. As a prominent spokesperson for Florida orange juice, she leveraged her platform to spearhead a crusade against gay-friendly initiatives nationwide. Her campaign began in Dade County, Florida, where she famously appeared in commercials touting the virtues of her product. There, Bryant vociferously opposed a law that protected the rights of gay employees, likening them to prostitutes and thieves, and advocated for their criminalization. Throughout the film, newsreel footage captures Bryant’s appearances on local and national broadcasts as her crusade spreads from Dade County to the nation at large, leaving a trail of discrimination and intolerance in its wake.

As Milk’s campaign for Assemblyman comes to a close, he’s met with a mix of emotions: defeat, yet an unexpected surge in popularity. His exhausted staff presents him with a map, revealing that if the city’s new Supervisor election plan passes, his district would be limited to the Haight Ashbury and Castro neighborhoods - a prospect that both tantalizes and terrifies him. On one hand, he’d have a clear path to becoming the first openly gay man to win elected office; on the other, it would mean sacrificing his relationship with Smith (Scott) and the notion of a “normal” life.

Meanwhile, Walter Cronkite makes a poignant appearance, reporting on Anita Bryant’s anti-gay crusade as it gains momentum across the country. As Milk and his supporters watch the news unfold, one of them sports a tee shirt emblazoned with the phrase “Anita the Hun.” Bryant herself responds to the setbacks, claiming that her actions were justified by both divine and cultural law.

In a heart-wrenching turn of events, a young boy from Minnesota reaches out to Milk, confessing that he’s been told his parents plan to send him to an ex-gay rehabilitation program - a prospect that fills him with despair. The boy, confined to a wheelchair, feels trapped and helpless, longing for death rather than submission. As Milk tries to offer words of encouragement, the boy’s mother intervenes, forcing him to hang up before Milk can provide further guidance.

Just as tensions are escalating outside City Hall, Smith’s frustration boils over at Milk’s involvement in the unrest. With his bullhorn - a symbol of his long-standing union support - Milk rallies an impromptu crowd and leads a peaceful march through San Francisco’s streets to City Hall. The police, wisely, allow him to do so, recognizing that allowing the people to vent their emotions and frustrations in this manner can often prevent more violent outbursts. As the crowd chants “Gay Rights Now!” - Milk stands at the forefront, his determination to fight for equality and justice palpable.

As Harvey Milk ascends the steps of City Hall, his voice booms out across the crowd, introducing himself with a sense of urgency and purpose: “My name is Harvey Milk, and I invite you to join me on this crusade.” With unwavering conviction, he proclaims that his movement will not rest until it has vanquished Anita Bryant’s discriminatory agenda, having already claimed victory by mobilizing the masses against her. In a bold assertion of defiance, Milk declares that Bryant’s efforts ultimately proved futile, as they inadvertently galvanized a collective force that would ultimately defeat her.

Milk’s words resonate deeply with the crowd, as he speaks directly to the hearts of young people from Jackson, Mississippi, Minnesota, and Woodmere, New York - places where the struggles of their own LGBTQ+ communities are all too familiar. He acknowledges that these youth are looking to San Francisco and tonight’s march for leadership, imploring the LGBT community to seize this moment as a beacon of hope for a brighter tomorrow. As he speaks, Milk’s passion is palpable, his words weaving together the threads of economic uncertainty and social injustice, emphasizing that San Francisco’s recent rule changes have empowered neighborhood residents to choose their own representatives - a development that should bring solace and inspiration to communities across the nation.

As Milk’s message spreads, it becomes increasingly clear that he has become an unlikely force in local politics. With his newfound momentum, he sets his sights on winning the Supervisor seat representing the Castro district, where Dan White, a former cop and fireman, is poised to represent the predominantly Irish-Catholic neighborhood he calls home. And so, the stage is set for Milk’s greatest challenge yet: a formidable opponent in the form of Dan White, who embodies all the subtle yet insidious prejudices that will stop at nothing to undermine Milk’s vision for a more inclusive and just society.

As the calendar flips to 1977, Smith departs from Milk’s life, unable to withstand the grueling battle for Supervisor any longer. His resignation as campaign manager leaves a void that Milk struggles to fill, his feet dragging as he informs his staff of the change. In a symbolic gesture, Smith’s campaign signs are replaced with new ones bearing Milk’s name. Enter Ann Kronenberg, a lesbian and the newly appointed campaign manager, whose arrival is met with skepticism by the all-male gay staff. The atmosphere is thick with pessimism, fueled by the prospect of Rick Stokes, a rival candidate backed by The Advocate, threatening to upend Milk’s chances.

Despite the gloomy outlook, Kronenberg proves herself a formidable force, securing endorsements from the San Francisco Chronicle, The Sentinel, and the Bay Area Reporter. Her success is met with amusement by the staff, who are heartened by her unorthodox approach. However, Milk remains fixated on the campaign papers, while his team decides to celebrate at The Stud.

As the night wears on, a tipsy Latino gentleman named Jack stumbles into the camera shop, bearing a fondness for Palomino horses and an affinity for Milk. His erratic behavior and tales of abuse at the hands of his father leave Milk sympathetic and drawn to him, serving as a rebound figure in the wake of Smith’s departure. As their connection deepens, Milk takes Jack upstairs, where they share a naked moment of intimacy. In a poignant exchange, Milk assures Jack that he will never again be beaten or belittled, promising to shield him from harm.

As the calendar flips to November 1977, Harvey Milk’s grassroots coalition of union members, women, seniors, and LGBTQ individuals has borne fruit. In a historic milestone, he triumphantly takes office as Supervisor, likely becoming the world’s first openly gay man to do so. The euphoria is palpable as his supporters converge on his office for a raucous celebration, which Smith (Smith) observes from afar, having chosen to distance himself from Milk’s inner circle. Meanwhile, the Advocate’s proprietor attempts to crash the party, but Milk politely yet firmly rebuffs him, before swooping in to pluck Jack from the outside crowd and integrate him into the festivities. The staff is wary of Jack, whose eccentricities are still very much on display.

As the news media swarm the celebration, Milk confidently declares that his election was a call to serve all San Franciscans, not just one particular demographic. Fast-forward to 1978, and Milk’s swearing-in ceremony at City Hall provides the backdrop for his staff’s anxieties about navigating the bureaucratic labyrinth. With Cleve Jones (Cleve Jones) in tow, Milk issues a stern rebuke for Jones’ attempts to assimilate into the establishment, instead urging him to retain his signature flair – tight jeans and all. Furthermore, Milk reveals his strategy to outmaneuver Anita Bryant by introducing a citywide ordinance protecting LGBTQ individuals in San Francisco, hoping to draw her ire and spark a national debate.

In a surprising display of camaraderie, Dan White (James Brolin), another newly elected Supervisor, extends an invitation to Milk’s son’s baptism, which he graciously accepts. The staff is taken aback by this olive branch, but Milk emphasizes the importance of forging unlikely alliances in his pursuit of progressive change. As Jones later remarks, “Is it just me, or is he cute?” – a sentiment that, for the record, resonates with more than just Jones. Meanwhile, back at home, Milk returns to find Jack has helpfully settled in, watching soap operas all day and cooking up a storm of unappetizing brown dishes. In a bizarre display of trust-building, Milk asks if Jack would promise not to break in again if he were given a key. Jack agrees, and the two begin an unconventional relationship, with Jack moving in and becoming an integral part of Milk’s life.

As the mournful atmosphere of Dan White’s baby’s service washes over Harvey Milk (Emile Hirsch), he strikes up a conversation with his adversary-turned-nemesis, White. The unlikely duo discusses a potential pact: White would support Milk’s pro-gay ordinance in exchange for Milk’s backing of White’s efforts to prevent the establishment of a psychiatric hospital in his district. This fleeting moment of détente will later become a source of contention, as Milk vehemently denies making any promises to White, while White insists that their agreement was sealed at the baptism.

White’s wife interrupts their conversation with a jarring display of bigotry, prompting Milk to engage her in a polite yet firm rebuke, as the baby’s wails pierce the air. Meanwhile, Milk’s staff cautions him against aligning himself with White, but Milk remains undeterred, sensing that his adversary might be hiding secrets of his own - perhaps even a closeted life, mirroring Milk’s own experiences in New York.

The Milk camp is also wary of Jack Lyle, whom they perceive as unstable, and worries about the implications of their leader’s marriage to the latter. The notion that Anita Bryant has found an ally in California state Senator Briggs, who is championing Proposition 6, sends a chill down the spines of Milk’s team. This draconian legislation would result in the firing of all gay teachers and those who support LGBTQ+ rights, empowering authorities to conduct arbitrary “inquisitions” and “witch hunts” to determine one’s sexual orientation.

Briggs’ plan to root out supposed “perverts and pedophiles” from public schools is nothing short of a callous crusade against the very essence of human diversity. Milk and his staff are acutely aware that Briggs’ campaign has now brought the Bryant-inspired war on gay rights to California, with devastating consequences for the community.

As Bryant and Briggs conspire to create a shopping list of individuals deemed worthy of damnation - starting with LGBTQ+ individuals, followed by Jews and Muslims - the stakes could not be higher. The very fabric of society is being rent asunder, and Harvey Milk must confront the darkness head-on if he hopes to protect his fellow humans from this tide of intolerance.

As the high-stakes battle against Prop 6 intensifies, Jack’s emotions reach a boiling point at yet another pivotal gathering of influential individuals seeking to strategize their next move. The closet becomes his sanctuary, where he retreats in search of solace, only to be met with Milk’s soothing presence and calm reassurances. However, the underlying tensions simmering between them soon boil over as Jack’s frustration towards Milk’s tardiness and his own sense of isolation and disconnection from those around him come to a head. The closet becomes a symbol of Jack’s desperation to escape the crushing weight of his emotions, which ultimately forces Milk to leave his side and rejoin the crucial meeting in progress.

Meanwhile, the deliberations at the gathering take an unexpected turn as the affluent LGBTQ+ community advocates for a subtle approach, downplaying their involvement and instead framing Prop 6 as a flagrant affront to fundamental human rights. However, Milk remains unconvinced, convinced that this strategy will only serve to further obscure the very people who would be most deeply affected by this discriminatory legislation.

In a bold move, Milk decides to chart his own course, recognizing that his own experiences and those of countless others like him are precisely what can galvanize support against Prop 6. He rallies his closest allies, issuing a clarion call for every single one of them to come out to their loved ones, and even goes so far as to instruct one of his staff members to facilitate an impromptu phone call to his own father, thereby breaking the silence that has shrouded his personal life.

As Smith listens in, he is struck by the irony of Milk’s sudden zeal for public disclosure, given the secrecy with which he has always kept his own sexual orientation hidden from those closest to him. Yet, despite this seeming hypocrisy, Milk remains resolute in his conviction that the only way to truly wield political power is to confront the brutal truth and stand united against Prop 6.

In his passionate plea to his team, Milk argues that if every individual in California could be made to realize the profound impact Prop 6 would have on their own friends, family members, and loved ones, there would be an overwhelming majority of voters opposed to this discriminatory measure. For him, the notion of privacy is nothing short of a hindrance to genuine change; only by embracing the raw truth can they hope to effect meaningful political reform.

As Milk’s gaze lingers on the empty space where Smith once stood, he can’t help but feel a pang of longing for his friend. The conversation is stilted, with Smith revealing his newfound romance and Milk struggling to reconcile his own relationships. The tension is palpable as Jack’s erratic behavior becomes increasingly pronounced, fuelled by an intense jealousy towards Smith.

Meanwhile, White’s world begins to unravel as he realizes Milk has betrayed their agreement regarding the psychiatric hospital in his district. The betrayal cuts deep, with White recalling the unspoken understanding between them at the baptism. His frustration boils over, and he lashes out at Milk, accusing him of abandoning their friendship and alliance. The hurt and anger are palpable as White seethes with fury.

As the news broadcasts Bryant’s latest victories in Minnesota and Oregon, a sense of urgency grips Milk. He recognizes that Bryant is on a mission to spread her hateful rhetoric across America, starting with Wichita, Kansas. With a fierce determination, Milk rallies his network of LGBT supporters and allies through a round-robin telephone call, mobilizing them to take action against the impending “Hatefest” in Wichita.

In the Castro, Milk assumes the role of City Peacemaker, passing the megaphone to Jones as he leads the impassioned crowd on a march towards City Hall. As the throng converges on the streets, Milk’s team utilizes walkie-talkies to coordinate their efforts and ensure a unified front. The protesters’ chants grow louder, echoing through the city as they block traffic by disconnecting streetcar electrical plugs. “Civil Rights or Civil War, Gay Rights Now!” and “Anita, You Liar. We’ll Set Your Hair On Fire” become the rallying cries of the defiant crowd, bringing a significant portion of San Francisco to a standstill.

As the City Mediator/Peacemaker, Harvey Milk’s (Harvey Milk) daring stunt pays off in a major way, earning him widespread acclaim for quelling a near-riot. Recognizing that his reputation as a champion of gay rights must be complemented by tangible achievements beyond his own community, Milk hatches a plan to sponsor legislation addressing the pressing issue of dog waste disposal. By emphasizing the health hazards and nuisances posed by this problem, he hopes to galvanize support for his broader agenda, particularly in light of the looming Prop-6 referendum.

Following the passage of the Gay Rights Ordinance in City Hall, where a decisive 10-to-1 vote saw Dan White (Dan White) cast the sole dissenting ballot, Milk takes a moment to engage with his adversary. When White asks whether two men can reproduce, Milk responds wryly, “No, but God knows we keep trying.” Acknowledging no hard feelings over the contentious gay rights vote, Milk suggests exploring potential areas of collaboration that could benefit White in his own district. However, when White requests Milk’s support for a pay raise for Supervisors to alleviate his financial struggles at home, Milk advises against such a move due to its questionable political viability.

The evening unfolds with Milk celebrating his 48th birthday in style at a lavish party within the City Hall building itself. A towering cake shaped like City Hall serves as the centerpiece, and the festivities are punctuated by the ritualistic arrival of whipped cream pies, which come flying towards Milk’s face – an enduring tradition shared with his partner, Scott Smith (Scott Smith). This opulent celebration stands in marked contrast to their earlier, more low-key birthday observance.

Meanwhile, Jack Lira (Jack) is at the party, his eccentricities on full display as he demands attention. Just then, Smith appears unexpectedly and bestows a celebratory kiss upon Milk. As White stumbles through the gathering, his intoxication and incoherence rendering him barely intelligible, Milk brushes off his ire and focuses on Jack’s antics instead. The latter’s outbursts serve only to further agitate White, who seethes with resentment as the night wears on.

As the California campaign for Prop-6 reaches a boiling point, Harvey Milk (actor name) stands at the forefront, rallying his forces to secure its passage. Meanwhile, in San Francisco’s vibrant heart, Milk takes center stage at the Pride Parade, where he’s handed a chilling death threat mere moments before delivering a crucial speech on the steps of City Hall alongside Mayor Moscone. Undeterred by the ominous warning, Milk summons his signature courage and launches into an impassioned plea: “My name is Harvey Milk, and I am here to recruit you!” As the crowd hangs on his every word, he urges them to shatter the myths surrounding gay people, tear down barriers, and dispel lies and distortions.

In a parallel scene, Dan White (actor name) takes to City Hall’s podium, railing against the notion of naked men participating in the Pride Parade. His logic is simple: if naked individuals aren’t allowed at other city parades, why should they be tolerated here? The juxtaposition between Milk’s message of hope and acceptance and White’s reactionary stance serves as a stark reminder of the deeply entrenched attitudes that Prop-6 aims to change.

As tensions escalate, word reaches Milk that Briggs is en route to San Francisco with malicious intentions. Mayor Moscone intervenes, diverting Briggs’ car to the docks where Milk and the media await. With his presence deemed a public safety hazard by the Mayor – potentially inciting riots among attendees – Briggs is refused entry into the City. Undeterred, Milk seizes the opportunity to extend an olive branch, inviting Briggs to a public debate on Prop-6 in San Francisco.

The stage is set for a showdown at the Walnut Creek School District, where Briggs launches into his signature diatribe about gay teachers “recruiting” students and perpetuating their own existence. Milk counters with a series of probing questions: how do teachers “recruit” children, and does this process resemble teaching French? He also wryly notes that if students merely emulated their teachers and grew up to be just like them, there would likely be an abundance of nuns in the world – a pointed commentary on the absurdity of Briggs’ claims. As the debate rages on, Milk’s unwavering conviction and unshakeable commitment to his ideals serve as a beacon of hope for those seeking acceptance and equality.

As Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) pursued his mission to thwart Proposition 6, he calculated the consequences of defeat would be catastrophic. His ultimate goal was to stage a decisive debate in Orange County, California, a stronghold of Republican support, where Briggs’ vitriolic rhetoric equated homosexuality with pedophilia. Milk astutely countered by highlighting that most child molesters are heterosexual, and Briggs’ attacks on teachers had far-reaching implications for the very fabric of society. The predominantly conservative audience in Orange County responded with jeers, their disdain palpable.

Meanwhile, Scott Smith’s (James Duval) behavior became increasingly erratic, bombarding Milk with incessant phone calls at City Hall, interrupting meetings and pulling him away from crucial discussions. Milk calmly assured Smith he would be home by 6:15 that evening, only to find himself beset by a sea of cryptic notes plastered across the walls, including the ominous message on the curtain: “How do you like my last act?” As the reality sank in, Milk found himself cradling Smith’s lifeless body, the weight of his friend’s tragic passing crushing him.

In the aftermath, Dan White (Daniel Villarreal) seethed with humiliation and betrayal, his emotions simmering just below the surface. The news landscape shifted dramatically as both President Ronald Reagan and Jimmy Carter publicly declared their opposition to Proposition 6, a development that sent shockwaves throughout the political sphere. As anxiety mounted in San Francisco, the specter of violence loomed large, with fears of widespread unrest should the measure pass.

A poignant footnote emerged as the news highlighted the Christian community’s unprecedented mobilization against LGBTQ+ individuals during this tumultuous period. Amidst the chaos, a surprise phone call from Paul, a young man who had previously contemplated suicide, reached Milk just hours after the Prop-6 vote. The pair’s emotional reunion was tempered by the knowledge that LA County had overwhelmingly rejected the measure, casting doubt on its chances of passage. As the dust settled, Milk’s resolve to carry forward his mission remained unshaken, buoyed by the knowledge that every defeat could be a stepping stone toward ultimate triumph.

The tide of history turns in favor of Harvey Milk (Emile Hirsch) and the LGBT community as a resounding 65% of LA County rejects Proposition-6. The colors on the map reveal the scope of their triumph, dispelling earlier doubts about the initiative’s fate. Briggs and Prop-6 suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of Milk’s prophetic instincts.

In San Francisco, Dan White’s (Denise Belfield) district stands alone in its support for the divisive measure, a stark reminder of the intense polarization that has gripped the city.

As Milk addresses Californians, he emphasizes the universality of their victory. He reminds them that they all know someone who is gay, and this triumph is a beacon of hope and comfort for people around the world.

Meanwhile, Dan White’s resignation from the Supervisor’s Board sets off a chain reaction. The police union, old adversaries of the LGBT community, seek to persuade him to retract his decision, but Milk is resolute in his opposition. He pressures Mayor Moscone (Victor Garber) not to allow White’s recantation, knowing that once someone resigns, there are no second chances.

Moscone wryly compares Milk’s tactics to those of Boss Tweed or Mayor Daley of Chicago, a quip that elicits a hearty laugh from the audience. Milk retorts, “A homosexual with power is a scary thing,” a poignant reminder of the challenges that come with wielding influence.

As the sun rises over San Francisco, Harvey Milk (Emile Hirsch) and Cleve Jones (Morgan Freeman) engage in a heartfelt conversation that stretches through the night into the dawn. They discuss the opera, and Jones expresses his desire to accompany Milk on his next outing. Jones also praises Milk for his unwavering dedication, and Milk, overcome with emotion, reveals his deep affection for Smith.

In a shocking turn of events, Dan White (Denise Belfield) bursts into City Hall through an uncompleted office renovation, avoiding the metal detectors that would have otherwise foiled his plans. Harvey Milk, unaware of this development, enters the building, passing through the security checks with ease.

As fate would have it, Dan White’s next destination is Mayor Moscone’s office, where he hopes to find a way to retract his resignation and reclaim his position on the Supervisor’s Board.

As Milk ventures to the office of Senator Diane Feinstein, he’s met with a warning: steer clear of Harvey Milk’s arch-nemesis, Dan White. The tension is palpable as Milk arrives at City Hall on that fateful day, unaware of the impending doom. Meanwhile, White, fueled by malevolent intentions, takes out his gun and brutally murders Mayor George Moscone in cold blood.

The scene shifts to a chilling tableau: White, unfazed by the gravity of his actions, calmly exits Moscone’s office and makes his way to Milk’s office, where he delivers the same deadly blows. As Milk’s life slips away, his final glance is fixed on the San Francisco Opera House across the street, a poignant reminder of the fragility of life.

A flashback to 1970 whisks us back in time, as Milk shares a tender moment with Scott Smith, savoring birthday cake and laughter. The conversation turns serious as Smith cautions Milk against overindulgence, while Milk prophesies that he won’t live to see his 50th birthday. The gravity of this moment is underscored by the somber atmosphere that pervades City Hall during Milk’s official memorial service, attended by a meager handful of mourners.

Smith and Harvey Fierst, one of Milk’s closest allies, are left wondering aloud why more people didn’t turn out to pay their respects. As they walk through the Castro district, they’re met with an astonishing sight: candles lighting up the streets as far as the eye can see, a testament to the thousands who’ve gathered for a silent march to City Hall.

In a poignant voiceover, Milk’s narration continues, as he pens his final letter: “I want 1,000 people to rise if I am assassinated. Let the bullet in my brain destroy every closet door, and let this movement continue beyond me… I want this to go beyond gays, into Asians, Blacks, Seniors, all the ‘Us-es’ out there, all of us.” Milk’s ultimate wish is for hope and solidarity to transcend his own mortality, bringing together people from all walks of life who’ve been marginalized or persecuted.

As the credits roll, a stark reality sets in: 30,000 people braved the night to honor Milk’s memory with candles. The trial of Dan White would later become infamous for its “Twinkie Defense,” where his lawyer argued that chemicals in junk food contributed to his mental imbalance and ultimately drove him to commit the heinous crimes. Convicted of manslaughter, White served a paltry five years before being released in 1984. Less than two years later, he took his own life, a somber reminder of the devastating consequences of hate and intolerance.

As the tumultuous consequences of White’s manslaughter conviction unfolded, the city of San Francisco was plunged into chaos during the infamous “White Night Riots”. This violent outburst, a stark reflection of the simmering tensions within the gay movement, would go down in history as one of the most turbulent episodes in San Francisco’s storied past. In a striking turn of events, the following day brought an unexpected sense of calm, with not a single arrest made amidst the lingering unease.

Meanwhile, Scott Smith’s life was tragically cut short by AIDS-related complications in 1995, serving as a poignant reminder of the devastating impact of the disease on countless individuals and families. In the face of adversity, Cleve Jones would go on to channel his energies into the creation of the Project AIDS Memorial Quilt in 1987, a powerful testament to the resilience and determination of the LGBTQ+ community.

As for Ann Kronenberg, her remarkable career trajectory saw her rise through the ranks of government, ultimately becoming a respected leader with three children. The ripple effect of Harvey Milk’s legacy continued to spread far and wide, as his dedicated staff went on to establish successful consulting firms and activist groups, dedicating their efforts to advancing the cause of the gay community.

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