In telling a story, fiction has many built-in advantages over non-fiction. The biggest might be ambiguity. Does Hamlet feign insanity to trap his uncle, or is he actually driven insane from grief? In our world that question would have an answer; in the play, it does not and cannot be answered. Both and neither are true — ambiguity allows interpretation, but not determination. Do the Right Thing’s ambiguity isn’t weak or waffling; it’s a position statement, and coupled with Lee’s boundless empathy for all of his characters, it’s a powerful perspective on American race relations and gentrification. So the movie’s ambiguity means that, jazzlike, it must be understood in terms of the notes it doesn’t play. Lee gives the viewer no easy answers or perfect people. By denying the simple morals and easy digestibility of standard Hollywood race narrative it forces a recognition of our imperfect understanding of each other in the real world; by refusing to sermonize, it addresses some of our most intractable social injustices with music, humor and lively performance. It’s a movie that knows it’s a movie, and rejoices in that fact. And just like It’s a Wonderful Life is about the acknowledgement that even a terrible life is wonderful, that wonderful-ness is intrinsic to life regardless of the details of any particular person’s biography. Its title carries a lot of water: who does the right thing? Is there a right thing to do? And how will we know if we’ve done it? Released in 1989, Do the Right Thing is the answer to a question that America hasn’t even figured out the right way to ask yet.