Milk packs a lot into its 2-hour running time, covering Harvey’s move to California from New York and his romances with both Smith and Jack Lira (Diego Luna), his numerous runs for office, his political battles, his cautious friendship with White, his eventual murder and, finally, his legacy. But thanks to the warm performances from the central cast, the film doesn’t suffer from its brisk pace, although some viewers might leave the theater wanting to know more about Milk himself (we learn virtually nothing about the man pre-California).

It’s also worth noting that there are virtually no women present in this story. Aside from Kronenberg, a lesbian largely responsible for Harvey’s eventual campaign success, the Castro is curiously devoid of women. While there may have been segregation in causes at the time and while Milk’s close circle may well indeed have been mostly male, it does seem strange that there is so little visibility for women (particularly lesbian women) in the film. Van Sant clearly wants to immerse the audience in a community of not just gay citizens in general, but of gay men in particular, with all their particular shortcomings and virtues.

As a gay man, not recommending Milk isn’t really even up for discussion. The fact that a renowned filmmaker and cast have managed to bring the story of a gay civil rights hero to screen is staggering to begin with, but the fact that the film that they have created is so solidly rendered, so heartfelt and so accessible is more than a relief, it’s a godsend. We have a gay movie about gay causes that shows the strength and resilience of the gay community without apologies, and that we can recommend without reservation.

Will the movie change minds? Maybe not. Anyone rabidly anti-gay won’t be seeing it to begin with. But what Milk might do is reenforce in the minds of those who are merely “tolerant” of gays or who don’t fully appreciate the scope of the gay civil rights struggle that these are human issues, based around real people. Gay physical affection is presented as a matter of fact (there are love scenes and kisses abound), as is the hatred and bigotry directed at Harvey and his community.

Some will be moved to tears by Harvey’s story, others will be educated about a vital period in the gay rights movement, and still others will leave the theater furious at what is still happening in the world today when it comes to the civil liberties of gays and lesbians.

I entered the film prepared to be disappointed; thankfully, I wasn’t. But I was also prepared to be detached from a time and a struggle that I’m relatively familiar with, but that is decades in the past.

However, within seconds of the film’s opening there was one particular image that grabbed me by the throat and will probably stay with me for the rest of my life: During the title montage made up of news footage of gay bar raids, a group of gay men sit quietly with drinks at cafe tables surrounded by the harsh lights of camera crews, each with his face buried in his arms trying to hide from the cameras.

Two hours later the film closes on the image of Harvey’s community marching with candles through the streets of San Francisco, thousands strong. If Harvey’s short legacy can teach us anything, it’s that we cannot live in fear and that we have nothing to hide our faces from. And if that is Milk’s lasting message, it’s one that is excellently realized, and long overdue.