It really takes a man of great internal fortitude to look back on his life with such a critical eye toward informing the future, but screen legend Sidney Poitier has proven to be such a man. He first made an impression in his pioneering role as a top-flight film star in the 1950's and 60's and then through his profound role in the civil rights movement and more recently, on more global political commitments. He has conveyed his evolving passions in a series of increasingly reflective books - first his candid, straight-ahead autobiography, 1980's This Life and then his sometimes fiery, always revelatory memories of being caught in the crossfire of expectations among his racially divided audience in 2000's The Measure of a Man: A Spiritual Autobiography. His latest book finds the actor, now 81 years old, in a more philosophical mood as he writes a series of letters to his great-granddaughter Ayele.
Ayele was just born in 2005, so it's clear that Poitier wrote this book as a legacy to her and quite a legacy it is. Far less interested this time in opening old wounds, he brings a genuinely inspirational tone to his ruminations on the broad topics he covers here - love, faith, life, death. Yet, he manages to use his expansive personal history when it proves relevant to a topic. Poitier realizes that he is well beyond the age where he needs to document his life purely in chronological, milestone-achieving order. At the same time, he knows he played an essential role in breaking down barriers heretofore closed to blacks despite the limitations put upon him on the big screen. The actor had to be hopelessly idealized, articulate and sexless. Even when he was allowed to be romantically involved in films like For Love of Ivy, it was handled in the most antiseptic manner. And when he spoke out against injustices in films like In the Heat of the Night or Pressure Point, Poitier kept his passions in check with calculated responses that turned into classic set pieces like the argument with his belligerent father in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner.
Barack Obama owes a debt of gratitude to Poitier whose charisma and dignity paved the way for the first serious Presidential run by someone who is not white. However, the actor seems more resigned than enthralled by his pivotal place in history. That must explain why he deals more directly with questions about the existence of a higher power since he worries that the world his great-granddaughter inherits will be continually threatened by religious conflicts. Poitier wants to prepare her for the threats ahead, and in doing so, he shares his hard-earned wisdom in deceptively simple terms. There is a pervasive sense of mortality in the book, and one gets the sense that he is preparing himself for the world beyond. You would think the net effect would be sad, but he manages to give a strong sense of affirmation to the life lessons he shares. I still prefer the comparatively angrier "Measure of a Man" for pure revelation about his legend, but this lucidly written book provides a most fitting coda.