This is the kind of movie that makes you want to cry—not because you watched the movie, but because what you're watching really happened. I didn't live in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1955
.didn't know about the bus boycott at the time. Shame on most of the white folks who are accurately portrayed in "The Long Walk Home," the racist citizens who complained at their dinner parties that "the ni__ers don't want to work" while their black maids were serving dinner. And much too tardy and much too inadequate praise for the other white folks who are accurately portrayed, the ones who felt the injustice, a little bit or a lot, that framed their everyday lives, living with their black neighbors in Montgomery. This is a message movie, plain and simple. Sissy and Whoopi are the messengers, plain and simple. They know what they're doing and they send the message to the viewer, straight from the shoulder, right between the eyes. It all seems very calm, except for the one, not-too-violent crowd violence scene at the carpool intersection—frankly, it's a bit awkwardly choreographed, but the denouement is satisfying. Sissy, rather incredibly, tells her domineering, bigoted, abusive husband to stuff himself at the very end. Good message, but not too realistic from a white 1950s housewife in Montgomery, Alabama. But Sissy is the other strong character—Sissy is on the right side of the bus boycott, and she sticks her neck out a lot more than Whoopi's maid character does. There is dreadful truth, and heroism, in "The Long Walk Home." Read more on my blog: Barley Literate