Revenge of the Norm

The last representation of a Black male I've seen in a popular film is that of Lamar Latrell (played by Larry B. Scott) in Revenge of the Nerds. Lamar is a very different type of character than those discussed in the readings, but is still relegated into the category of roles given to black people, the comic foil whose only true purpose is to help the White man.

Revenge of the Nerds concerns a group of geeky college freshman who are kicked out of their dorm by a testosterone-crazed fraternity, and in an attempt to both become "cool" and to seek retribution, they start their own fraternity house, and do things like take naked pictures of their rivals’ girlfriends. Lamar Latrell is the only Black character in this motley crew of displaced losers, and he’s also the only gay character. This characteristic seemed to supersede any racial identity for the writers, as Lamar embodies the gayest stereotypes in popular culture, culminating in a fellow nerd designing a javelin specifically to accommodate Lamar’s "limp-wristed" throwing technique. (Probably the only time in movie history the "gay wrist" stereotype has been used to win a sporting event.) Yet even though Lamar is predominantly a gay character, he still is represented as the majority of Black characters are in popular films. Lamar's entire aim in the film, essentially, is to help White protagonists Gilbert and Lewis achieve their various goals. Ironically, what these characters are searching for is an identity not entirely predicated on their previous categorization as "nerds." Though they sort of succeed at this (I guess having people applaud your nerdliness is good enough for the Tri-Lambs), Lamar is still never developed beyond the gay Black kid. Mr. Latrell is seemingly the only Black student enrolled at the university. He dresses in a flamboyant style, and his sexuality is represented as being of the promiscuous type (as Black women are often depicted), but also, being the only gay character besides his various bedroom-partners, there is a sense of Otherness to it. There actually are some minor Black characters—the heads of the Lambda Lambda Lambda fraternity organization that the nerds join—but their only purpose is to help our protagonists in a time of need. So though Lamar Latrell is different from the Black characters discussed in our readings in terms of sexuality, him and the few other Black characters in Revenge of the Nerds are still only given screen time as long as they are assisting White characters in ensuring the supremacy of what they feel should be the dominant social norm.

"I steal, I don't keel"

I don't actually watch 'popular' movies that often, regardless of what ethnicities they portray, but I have been revisiting a lot of older popular films for the purposes of this class. One of the most compelling and problematic (a lovely combination for any critic or theoretician) that I recently caught was...yes...Friday. It had been a while since I had seen it, and my memories of it (I'm guessing I'm not alone here) was that it is firmly ensconced in the categories of weed comedy, hip-hop comedy and slapstick comedy. Watching it again didn't remove any of those designations from it from my mental catalogue (although its not actually TOO heavy on the slapstick, despite some parts) but it is a little more complex film than I think it gets credit for and, I think, worth looking at through the Guerrero/Gray lense. There is plenty of call to scream 'stereotype' here, but I guess that's what provokes my comments on complexity. There's too much. We get it ALL in this flick. Drug dealers, thiefs, murderers crack jokes. Those are easy targets. A little more subtle, the older post-war working class man a la August Wilson is presented, and also the ebulliant door-to-door preacher. But if you look a little closer you begin to see the middle ground that Guerrero is calling for too. Ice Cube's parents are married and both hold jobs, and neither is going to lend him money, and neither is going to scream at him or kick him out of the house when they can calmly instruct him what to do. Not the most progressive characters, but not quite stereotypes either. A working class nuclear family. There is a fairly subtly drawn homosexual character screaming about his grass *but not being openly molested or mocked* as well. To me what holds it all together is the portrayal of a quiet neighborhood. Most concessions towards action (a drive by and a fight) are arguably driven by the necessities of the three-act structure, because by and large the neighborhood is portrayed as a quiet place with a modicum of class diversity. The 'slice of life' plotting and the fairly realistically drawn leads seem to point towards a middle ground of characterization for black males that the broad comedy of the film can't quite reach.

Black masculinity

I agree with a lot of the stuff in the readings for today, but I also disagree with some of it. However, the point is that it always depends on who is crafting the movie. Ed Guerrero's way of looking at Beverly Hills Cop or other Eddie Murphy vehicles from the 80s sound reasonable in that the black character is excluded from black society and rather fulfills a white-pleasing role or fulfills white expectations of a good black character. The last film I saw was Red Dust, a South African/BBC co-production about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, with Chiwetel Eijofor as the male lead with Hilary Swank as female counterpart. The film succeeded in portraying the cruelties of apartheid, and managed to tell the apartheid experience through the eyes of a black main character, who provided considerable potential for identification. In dealing with the experiences of torture that still haunt him and a dark secret from his past, he was portrayed as a tormented but nevertheless strong character whose personality was given enough space throughout the film to develop enough depth of character.

Black Males in Popular Film

There's no denying that Morgan Freeman is a good actor. Yes, sometimes he doesn't have the best roles, but he does his best with what he's got or given.

I was watching The Shawshank Redemption a few weeks ago, and it really made me think about Freeman and the roles he tends to take. Now, I haven't seen all of Freeman's films but with the ones I have seen, he usually tends to portray someone in power.

Lets take Shawshank as an example. Before Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) gets to the prison, Freeman's character is the one who seems to be in control of his white counterparts. He is well respected and well liked through out the prison. He is also "the man who gets things". However, once Robbin's character shows up, Freeman's character falls behind. He becomes a side kick to Dufresne, who cheats the system and gets what he wants.

I find it interesting that Freeman's character is the one who follows the rules, because he is the 'black character' in this film. What I mean by this is that black characters are usually shown as troublemakers or characters who violate the rules. However, he is portrayed as the side kick to Dufresne. But in most of Freeman's movies, he's always shown following the rules.

Now this could be because he can choose what roles he wants or because he is type casted as the "goody goody", "whitewashed" black actor. However, Freeman has obviously made it a long way from being a driver in Driving Miss Daisy to playing strong male leads.

I Am Legend was on television last week. Will Smith is depicted in a seemingly favorable light. However many readings regarding Smith's relationship with his dog, the "zombie-horror" film-esque genre, the fact that he's saving the world from a highly unlikely threat and his "self-sacrifice" at the end, might begin to put "equality skeptics" on edge. This film was a "block buster". I think I paid to see it in a theatre with my dad. He's black too. We both enjoyed it and accepted Smith's performance as heroic. I don't think he's contributing any transgressive dialogue in this role, but he certainly did a good job and made a lot of money...for himself and the box office, broadly. Gray and Guerrero's points about black male representation are apparent in the way mainstream consumer capital probably made Will Smith seem like the perfect candidate for I Am Legend. There are probably many symbolic points to be made about the films title even. What is Legend? Is Will Smith the " I " refers to? Pursuit of Happiness, which Smith also stars, was released about a year before "Legend". Both film's directors are white males. It seems too suspicious to say Will Smith is performing transformative social work for re/de/constructing the image of black males in cinema. But, he's out there, I guess...

Black males in popular film

I recently watched "40 Year Old Virgin," and observed the representation by one of Steve Carell's friends in the movie. Jay, played by Romany Malco, plays a suave, philandering ladies man, encouraging his friend to have sex for the first time. I noticed that almost all of the comedy surrounding him had to do with his overt sexuality, and the fact that he constantly cheats on his girlfriend. Although all of the men in the film talk about sex, since it is the center concern of the movie, I found that he was the only one who discussed cheating, with no sense of guilt. This gives him a pretty empty shell, making his sexual deviance his main characteristic.

Black Male Representation

The last movie I watched was Hustle & Flow, which is focused on the life of an African-American man in the rough neighborhoods of Memphis. DJay, played by Terrence Howard, is a pimp/drug dealer who starts rapping so he can get away from the painful routine of working the streets. He is portrayed as a flawed, but likable character. He shares a house with three of his girls and one of their infants sons. At one point he kicks one girl and her baby out of the house after she insults his manhood. This can be interpreted a couple of ways. First, one could argue that it was necessary for DJay to get rid of her, even though it meant putting an innocent baby out on the streets as well, because she constantly held him down and provided virtually no positive reinforcement for him or any of the girls with whom she lived. Secondly, the act could be seen as one of insecurity in that DJay is so focused on being "In Charge" that he evicts the first person to challenge him.
DJay also has an interesting relationship with Nola, the girl who serves as his go-to prostitute and also his best friend. When times get tough he tells her that they are in charge and essentially control their own destinies. However, when he begins rapping, he starts to push her aside a bit. In his article, Ed Guerrerro argues that there is a dearth of complex African-American male characters in Hollywood. In my opinion, DJay is a complex character, although he is something of an anti-hero because of his environment, which has developed him into a chauvinistic, drug-dealing hustler.

The last representation that I viewed of a Black male in a popular film was Scary Movie which features Shawn and Marlon Wayans. Marlon Wayans in particular is a character that Guerrero would not especially like. His character in the film fits into what Guerrero says about "Black energy and talent being more confined to expression in mostly comic roles and vehicles." His character fits into the typically stoner/slacker role in which his stupidity and obsession with getting high provides a lot of laughs in the movie. Although this is very common to see people like this in real life, it seems that this character is lacking three-dimensionality, which Guerrero might complain about. Additionally, the movie is interesting because although it features several black characters, it is not considered a "black film" as Guerrero says about movies with more than one black character. I believe that although the film is a comedy, all the black characters seem more like caricatures, and lack depth compared to the white characters. However, this could be a deliberate choice due to the fact that the writers and the director of the film are all Black and could be making a statement on how Black people are portrayed in films. One scene gives a good example of this: there is a tracking shot showing white reporters doing the news very seriously. When it comes to the fourth reporter, a Black man, he states something along the lines of ,"This is Black TV, white man got shot, we gettin' the fuck outta here." Clearly, this was done in a way that highlights the comedy of how Blacks are portrayed too often in film.

Black male representation

One of the last films I saw with a black male lead was Waist Deep with Tyrese Gibson. Tyrese's character was a convited fellon recently released from prison trying to maintain a job. He had a son, with no mother and they lived in the ghetto. In the mansood reading about Lee's Get on the Bus, they mentioned how it failed at the box office because it was depicted as a documentary film and the black audience did not respond to it. Lee said a black audience would rather have more guns and violence with a hint of tragedy as entertainment. Waist deep definitely classifies as a modern gangster film, which almost doubled the earnings of Get on the Bus. Tyrese's character represents what hollywoood would consider "how a black man should act". He is potrayed as a threat to social order, as is the rest of the black neighborhood. Waist deep goes against Guerrero's statement that most black roles are put in white protective custody, but actually constitutes as a black film because of its african american cast and gangster plot.

Don Cheadle as War Machine / Eunuch

Iron Man 2 was the last movie I saw in a theater in which a black man enjoyed a prominent role. Don Cheadle, an actor particularly notable for his physical restraint, plays Rhodey, the best friend and confidante of billionaire superhero Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.). Cheadle has a thankless role as a boring sidekick in a universe populated by a funny playboy (Downey), a mad tattooed Russian scientist (Mickey Rourke), a buffoonish weapons manufacturer (Sam Rockwell), and a spandex clad femme fatale (Scarlet Johannson) whose rib cage seems to have been surgically removed by CGI geniuses. In the orbit of these characters, Rhodey is little more than a noble eunuch, given the job of appearing as the appropriate straight edge to counterbalance Stark’s cartoonish alcoholic self-destruction. He is the kind of upstanding two-dimensional black male figure mentioned by Simpson in the first reading for this course.

So no, Cheadle’s Rhodey has, at first, little or nothing to do with the highly-sexed criminals mentioned throughout Guerrero and Gray’s essays. But he may have something in common with the 80s-era middle-aged middle-class upstanding black heterosexual male Gray mentions as celebrating an American mainstream ideal. Rhodey is, after all, a good military man. And when paired with Downey’s Stark, they do form yet another interracial buddy team which may have something in common with Mel Gibson and Danny Glover’s pairing in the first Lethal Weapon movie. Guerrero enjoys that movie as it “contrasts the wise restraint of an older Black cop, (Glover) with the risk-taking, violent actions of his younger White partner (Gibson).” Eventually Rhodey dons a Stark-created suit and becomes War Machine to fight alongside Stark’s Iron Man. The script feeds Downey’s Stark the more memorable one-liners. Cheadle’s Rhodey appears happy just to be along for the ride and to do a responsible job.

In this pairing, the white Stark is the undisciplined but charismatic genius who must be reigned in by the hyper-disciplined and boringly decent black Rhodey. Like the black men in Guerrero’s essay, Rhodey serves as a willing support to white culture here exemplified by Tony Stark’s industrial output. He cannot be a lone wolf. One could imagine many spin-offs from Marvel Comics films. But one cannot imagine Don Cheadle ever starring in the film War Machine.

The film with a black male in a significant role (at least that I can think of) is T.I. in ATL. In this film he is poor high school student that is struggling to get by in the lower/lower middle class of Atlanta. He doesn't have any white friends, and if fact there isn't an white people with any relavent role in the film. The is an upper class antagonist, but he is still African American man that grew up in the same neighborhood as T.I.'s character.

T.I.'s group of friends seemingly hate or look down on anyone or anything that would be a white characteristic even if that role is black by an African American.

There is obvious comparison to the readings and how African Americans are protrayed...ie gang relations, poor, not many white relations, but the one that I would like to address is the primal instinct of T.I. in the film. In the film his family is the most important thing. His brother is all thats left after his parents died in car accident. T.I. blindly protects his brother no matter the consequences and pulls him out problem situations. He is filling the role as care taker of his family protecting him and making sure that he is able to grow to become a man himself and that I feel is the #1 primal instinct.

I, Robot; I, (black) Actor

The most recent film I saw with an African American male actor with an interesting portrayal is I, Robot. Will Smith is the main character of this sci-fi movie with some modern social contexts thrown in the film for an interesting depiction.

Despite the fact that Smith's character is an agent of the law, lives in a upper middle class apartment, and drives what looks like an Audi R8 from the year 2300, Smith's character still carries some of the characteristics of a Hollywood-mainstream-African American character.

His white friends in the film are often "buttoned up" so to speak, and rarely fall into using colloquialisms or making any jokes, this is all handled by Smith. At one point he tells a foul mouthed kid played by Shia Lebouf to stop swearing, because he's bad at it. This seems to imply this sort of behavior is best left to Smith's character.

Finally, when the robots begin turning violent and revolting at the end of the film, it's Smith's character that has the best competency at blasting the droids to pieces more so than it is any other white character that stands out in the film, suggesting albeit more mildly than other films, that the African American man has the brutal know-how to bring down a lethal threat.

Typically I tend to notice sci-fi films try to depict more of an egalitarianism with African American characters a la: The Matrix, but this movie tends to have mild, latent references to the portrayals discussed by Guerrero.

Representation of Black Man

Recently I watched "I am Legend," starring Will Smith. He is basically the film's only character in the post-apocalyptic film. His family is gone, and everyone else has become zombies, unable to go into the sunlight. This disability makes all zombies appear pale white, so Smith is also the only black character in the film. In the world in which he lives, however, race doesn't matter at all. The two priorities are survival, and finding a cure for the disease.
In an industry that predominantly casts white people, the casting of Will Smith is very significant. He is an intelligent scientist, and basically the last man alive, so it is his responsibility to preserve the human race. I think it's a big deal that this major role was given to a black actor, and the movie was so successful. It shows studios that black actors are just as capable of carrying a movie as a white actor.
His character is quite different from the characters discussed in Diawara's book, though. He plays a kind, intelligent character who is even less animalistic when compared a) his dog and b) the violent zombies. The primal instinct we read about in Diawara is turned into a positive in this movie-a survival instinct.

Bobo's view on Walker/Spielberg

I think 'scapegoat' would be a somewhat strong term for the way Bobo dissects Spielberg's film in her piece. Primarily, she does not resort to anything resembling a personal attack, but a thoughtful comparison of elements from the novel and the film which do not seem to present similar representational messages. Spielberg's status as the director of the film and his unique clout in the film-making industry make him the necessary target for any perceived disjunction between source text and filmic text to begin with, but I think also that his admitted attempt to provide a 'Dickensian' structure gives her plenty of leverage to introduced problematic aspects of the film's creation of meanings, stereotypes and structural progression. I tend to agree with her analysis because transplanting elements of Victorian literature into cinematic adaptations of African-American works depicting the turn of the century is pretty bold, if you ask me. I also agree that juxtaposing scenes of serious emotional content with characters that recall traditional cinematic stereotypes is distracting at the very least. With Spielberg's reputation, directing style and 'auteur'-esque status it would be hard to believe that even elements of the screenplay (not written by him) and editing would be free from his influence and perhaps direct control.

Oh, Spielberg

I don't believe that, in her essay on The Color Purple, Jacqueline Bobo "scapegoats" Steven Spielberg. She is not blaming him for mainstream culture's views, or some cultural product beyond his control expressing those views. Spielberg is (or at least was at the time) "the most successful director in Hollywood's history" (278), and with that history of success, he could receive financial backing for any kind of movie he wanted to do (as he puts it, even an adaptation of the "telephone book" (279)). Yes, some changes would have to be made to Alice Walker's novel (or any novel) in order to adapt it for the silver screen with hope of high box office receipts, but due to Spielberg's power position in Hollywood, all the changes in The Color Purple from book to film can be regarded as his own choice. Jacqueline Bobo is not making a scapegoat of Steven Spielberg, but instead critiquing a film that he chose to make specifically as it was, and I cannot say that I disagree with that critique.

I have not seen The Color Purple, nor have I read the book upon which it is based. Bobo does not describe the story of Purple as explicitly as she could (I had to read a description online in order to fully grasp the plot), but the disparities between the book and the movie—essentially of the book being written as a story of black female empowerment, and the film shifting focus to that of male redemption—substantiate the arguments she makes. Also, Spielberg has kind of a history of racism and sexism in his films, whether purposefully or not, so I can very much see where she is coming from. Many of Spielberg's films could be regarded as "well-intentioned but patronizing and negative" (285), and this tends to anger me because if I point out the racism I see inherent in many Spielberg movies, I'll be met with baffled looks and questions of whether I'm joking. ("But Spielberg's Jewish," is a common reaction.) The obvious example is Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom: Willie Scott embodies the negative "blond bimbo" stereotype; Short Round, the "hilarious foreigner." But what's more frustrating for me are those "well-intentioned" films, like The Color Purple, which Spielberg produces with the aim of being "a different kind of film," ostensibly a sensitive, meaningful kind of film. Bobo's analysis places Purple into this category, and mine puts Schindler's List in there too.

Schindler's List, like The Color Purple, deals with abuse and oppression. Also like Purple, Schindler's List somehow, instead of empowering the oppressed group, becomes the story of a man's redemption, in this case the German Oskar Schindler. A movie about a good German guy in the time when there were a lot of bad German guys? Okay, fine by me. But Schindler's List turns Schindler into a father figure, and thus, the Jewish characters into his children. These oppressed people are still regarded as unequal and helpless, but this time there happens to be a man there to save them. As with The Color Purple, Schindler's List could have been a story of empowerment for a people who were stripped of their power. But Spielberg either doesn't know how or doesn’t want to write that kind of movie. So even though Jacqueline Bobo's argument lost a little of its sting due to my not knowing The Color Purple that well, I feel her critique of Spielberg is entirely justified. And if this is the kind of movie that Spielberg makes when he is trying for something different, then maybe he should just stick with "stereotypically Spielberg" (278) productions.

Color Purple

I think that Bobo's feelings toward Spielberg are probably similar to how other minorities feel about their representation by someone who does not share their "struggle." It's a pretty obvious fact that Spielburg is not a black woman, therefore he will never fully understand what it is like to be in Bobo or any other black woman's shoes. This much is obvious. However, does this mean that because he is not in the same gender/racial category as his characters he can not, or even should not try to make a movie about them? I think that Bobo is in fact using him as a scapegoat because she is angry that he tried to explain a way of life that she feels he could never understand.

Walker/Spielberg

I saw The Color Purple once many many years ago on the ancient form we pre-Millennialls described as VHS and I do remember being relatively unimpressed. Spielberg, who seems to contain in his blood, a primal genius for film storytelling, didn't seem to be able to structure a story. Beautiful ponderous shots were confused with dramatic tension. Perhaps, I cold see it again.

What I do remember extremely well, was what struck me as a relatively positive lesbian love scene involving Whoopi Goldberg and I am struck by Bobo's refusal to acknowledge that moment once in her essay. Within the context of mainstream cinema in the 1980s, a love scene between two black women strikes me as incredibly shocking and noteworthy. Taken on its own, outside of the context of the film, as a mere set-piece, it serves as a firm rebuke to most contemporary mainstream portrayals of homosexuals, male or female, or black women, gay or straight. After glancing at some of Bobo's analyses of the changes in dialogue between Walker's novel and Spielberg's film, it's unclear how much of Walker's original dialogue was "act-able." It may have read well on the page, but could it have been well-communicated by any actor?

Where I do think she may have hit her mark was in her descriptions of the rapes and near-rapes of the film. I've been frustrated for years by rape scenes thrown in almost lazily by screenwriters to move a story along. I've known rape victims who spend years in counseling, having suffered their own form of PTSD. The casual use of Danny Glover's sexual predatory nature doesn't so much excuse his behavior as minimize the horror of rape, though I wonder if Spielberg felt that a truly honest depiction would have turned the film into a piece of unwatchable porn.

Within the first few sentences of her essay, Jacqueline Bobo makes clear her disdain for the "Steven Spielberg production". In her efforts to "scapegoat" Spielberg, she makes it clear Spielberg should not have been left to handle the translation of a classic novel so central to the experience of a black woman. I feel like the greatest evidence against Spielberg handling such an important text comes from his own admission that, "I am who I am today because with my past successes added up, the studio would say yes, do whatever you like. Do the telephone book if you'd like." To me, this translates to, "I know what sells, I know how to sell what the studio wants and they trust me to do it." With this in mind, it's a rather frightening admission for anyone who is looking for this specific director to translate such a specific experience. Further on, all of this proclaimed success would seem to distance Spielberg even more from the topic he has been assigned to transfer on to film. Bobo does a fine job of listing examples from the film, pointing out how Spielberg has ruined the emotional and linguistic delicacies which transformed Walker's novel into a classic. However, what she fails to address is the larger audience for the novel that is reached because of Spielberg's production. Those dissatisfied with the "mainstream" depiction of black women in Spielberg's "The Color Purple" may be driven to discover Alice Walker's version or those who enjoyed Spielberg's may want to consider Walker's. Often times when famous novels are made into famous movies, a fairly cliche statement heard is "the book is better than the film". It seems that is exactly what Bobo is doing, letting us know that Spielberg is to blame for the botched depiction of a black woman's experience. Which is okay, I would have never believed in him in the first place.

I think the “problems” Bobo addresses indicate the processes of interpretation/translation as each individual has his/her own unique cultural palette. Imagining the Color Purple in any other way than Speilberg presented it negates the effects of social constructivism: a process in which we are all implicated (-at least, in my opinion). Perhaps Walker should have chosen a different director. But, I wonder if the film would have been as successful or recognized to the same degree. Perhaps Walker sacrifices, consciously or not, in order to situate herself in a position where her career could transcend the static page and manifest itself as a motion picture. Bobo’s argument definitely points to the ways that the film differs from the book in very crucial places, but I think those differences were realized from the start. I mean when Speilberg and Walker were negotiating or when Speilberg thought about making a film that was "unlike" his others, but still marketable. There are probably many factors at play that are left unconsidered or even overly considered…possibly in service of Bobo’s ideological approach. That said, I have not seen the film and have only read some of the book. But, it would be nice if the story Alice Walker wrote remained in line with her intentions and conceptual initiative as a writer. I’m more interested in the ways “Black women read through cinematic texts” and the ways films like these (-where the message is altered) still perform constructively,"positively". I’d like to think about the audience more.

Bobos essay

I thought bobos essay had some interesting points, but she was very critical of speilberg and his vision of the film. She seemed irritated that he hadn't stayed true to the novel, and lead the characters into a different portrayal, one that was less appealing to black women. She pointed out that "the film overlooks the transitional moment where the average black girl was given a place of importance". I think Bobo would have liked to see more of an independence and less inferior roles from Celie and Shug in the film. She also said that "a director as successful as speilburg has the freedom to structure his film in whatever manner he chooses, but he produced a work that reflected his general outlook." To me it sounds like she is saying this movie was able to take this path because speilberg was the director, had he he not been apart of it the movie wouldnt have been made, yet she is also saying if someone else had directed it, it would have been made better. I think this goes back to reids point in saying you need a profitable reputation as a director to have the freedom to make whatever film you like, so had another director wanted to make this film, it would not have gotten the response from production companys without speilberg.

The Color Purple

I have neither read the novel nor watched the movie so I base my arguments entirely on Jacqueline Bobo's essay. It did appear to me that she was indeed blaming Spielberg for a lot of what went wrong with the film, which I think is a bit unfair since there are more people that are behind a film, for example the studio, the producers and the screenwriter. I do not know how committed Spielberg was in making the project, so who knows how much influence he had on the changes.
Bobo does make some good points in pointing out the differences between novel and film concerning black womanhood and black characters in general, one good example I think is the character Shug. In the novel, she is a self-conscious woman, whereas in the film, she is an unsure, immature woman with a sexual hunger that is immeasurable. To further weaken her character, the character of her father was invented for the movie, whose constant approval she is seeking, which leats her appear very weak. Moreover, bobo points out that dialogue was added to the film, naming Shug a jezebel, to connect her to the old stereotypes.

Jacqueline Bobo Article

Even though Steven Spielberg's adaptation of Alice Walker's The Color Purple may have gone in a different direction than the author's original story, I feel like Jacqueline Bobo 's description of Spielberg as a scapegoat may be a bit harsh. I feel like Spielberg is sort of an engmatic figure in this discussion; he was the hottest director in Hollywood at the time, coming off a streak of some of the highest-grossing films in history, so he brought instant publicity and attention to the film. However, he may not have been the best choice since, as he mentioned, he was used to doing big-budget films with lots of special effects and The Color Purple was far from that. A smaller director who boasted experience with smaller projects or projects centered around African-Americans may have made the film a bit more authentic in comparison to the original book. In my opinion, the choice of Spielberg as director was not a huge deal, especially since he said that he "auditioned" himself for Alice Walker, in order to get her approval for the project. I am assuming that she was also on-site to provide her own input, which would have been very valuable to any director. On top of that, the film earned quite a few Academy Award nominations. I could think of worse fates for a film.

Bobo article

In reading the Bobo article, I found several points that I disagreed with. The main problem that I have with the article is the unfair and ineffective argument against Spielberg. She states that Spielberg is the main reason that the female characters lack three dimensionality and that the structure of the film ruins the power of the book. She points to the "awkward structure of the film" and states, "The moments of humor in the film provide comic relief, but the abrupt cut from the dramatic to the comic neutralizes its moments of power." In regards to both of these points, it appears that she did not take notice of the fact that Spielberg did not write the screenplay, which was actually written by a Dutch-born screenwriter by the name of Menno Meyjes. As a film major, I realize that it is the director's job to take the screenplay and film the material included in it. Although the director has a lot of say of what happens in the project, he does not have much, if any, control over the structure of the film, he is simply filming the source material (screenplay). Thus, it is pointless to blame Spielberg for the awkward structure, lack of three-dimensional characters, and the film's "uneven" balance between humor and moments of despair--he is simply following the screenplay. Thus, I feel as though her argument is not completely effective. Also, she assumes that everyone has seen the film and talks about the characters without explaining who they are--what's up with that?

"The Color Purple" Blog for 9/23

As a writer myself, I completely understand Alice Walker's use of family as inspiration, and desire for an intimacy with her ancestors. Even though she never met most of them, writing about them makes her feel as though she knows them.
I both agree and disagree with Bobo, for different reasons.
I agree with her that Steven Spielberg weakened the film. Although he is an accomplished director and perfectly capable of producing a great film, he could never have the intimacy with the characters that Walker had. His ancestors had different experiences. This is probably why Bobo felt Spielberg displaced the focus of the film--he didn't truly understand the focus, because he didn't have a personal connection with the film.
In another way, I disagree with Bobo. She was harsh on Spielberg, despite the fact that Walker allowed him to make the film. Doesn't the author's opinion mean something? Also, most movie adaptations of books fall short of the actual book. In this case, race happens to be a fact, but it is not a factor in many other adaptations.
However, I did find Bobo's arguments about gender very interesting, and supportive of her argument.

Ouch...That was mean

Reading Bobo's essay about Spielbergs adaptation of "The Color Purple" and she does in essence rip him big time. Which is totally fair as an artist we (Spielberg) should be open to all criticism that comes our way. We learn from it and become better artists. Bobo does have an argument when she slams Spielberg saying he got it all wrong as she is a African American feminist professor at the University of California. From where she sits it would be hard or impossible for Spielberg to fully understand where she is coming from and what her vision is of the true meaning of the film.

Even though that Spielberg did not meet the requirements of Bobo it does not mean that they did not serve a purpose to some people or meet the needs of others. Spielbergs vision is just his version or how he see the story based on his experiences in his life or how he best relates. It would be impossible for him to feel the same way that Bobo feels as he is not an African American Feminist. In conclusion, Spielberg has earned the right in Cinema to do whatever he feels to any movie and should be just fine with people. In my opinion Spielberg could make an adaptation of American Pie and I would go see it and love it because it was Spielberg.

After reading Bobo's essay regarding the color purple. She does seem to suggest that Spielberg is mostly to blame for what she implies is a failed book to film adaptation of "The Color Purple." This seems largely reinforced with a quote she uses from Spielberg saying he wanted to do something else at the time that did not rely heavily on special effects, but rather, a more character driven film. While he did deliver on that promise, his characters were lost in transition from novel to film. This seems to be defended pretty adequately by Bobo dissecting all of the gross differences between the characters and how they're portrayed in both outlets.

In addition to the issues regarding the characters, there are some narrative issues in the film as well revolving around Spielberg's need to constantly balance every melancholy scene with a more jovial one in order for comic relief. However, it's so rampant throughout the film that it appears to undermine the more serious moments of the film.

Jacqueline Bobo Reading

I think Bobo was a little harsh in regards to Steven Spielberg directing The Color Purple. In her section "Formal Stucture", she pretty much came to the conclusion that Spielberg did not understand the real story of The Color Purple when he was directing it; commenting and questioning on how he envisioned the story to be.

I understand why she was upset with his adaptation; but that is just it, it is an adaptation. Even though I have never seen this particular film, it is obvious (from her description and other readings) that Spielberg did the best he could at directing this very controversial story. She states that he only "tapped into his consciousness and experiences, and produced a work that reflected his general outlook". Again, isn't that the whole point of an adaptation??

She continues on into describing scenes in which she thinks Spielberg got all wrong. Although textually backed, I think that these just show her opinion on the film adaptation. However, I'm not sure what more she could have said in order to reaffirm her beliefs that Spielberg did a poor job at adaption the novel onto screen.

Indie vs Popular

Now I understand that the two films I'm going to discuss are not exactly alike in regards to their plots, but they have the similar theme of an unwanted pregnancy. The two films I'm going to compare are Juno and the Romanian film 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days.

We all know what Juno is about. Ellen Page gets pregnant and wants to give her child up for adoption. It is pretty evident that this film does not stress on the 'this could ruin my life' aspect of a teen pregnancy. This movie is filled with funny dialogue and a lot of jokes about a situation most people would not joke about. Now I'm not saying that all teen pregnancies are horrible and terrible, but Juno definitely sugar coated a lot of important issues.

One the other hand 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days so the drastically different side to an unwanted pregnancy. The main character gets pregnant (obviously) and chooses to get an abortion, which was illegal in 1984, when the film is set. Unable to do anything else, the girl arranges an abortion, even though it is very dangerous. Unlike Juno, this film really shows the dramatic aspects of getting pregnant when you don't want to. Now again, I understand that this film's approach to unwanted pregnancy isn't like most, but it definitely shows the most realistic and emotional side of pregnancy.

Both of these films are good in different ways. I liked Juno for its humor and sarcasm, but not for its realism. I really liked 4 M, 3 W and 2 D for its more realistic and dramatic side.

Since indie films do not have to deal with the restrictions of popular films they usually are able to tell a story better. In some cases the popular film does tell a better story getting the point across for example American Histoy X.This film is more powerful because of how we related to the cast, or Edward Norton. Since Norton has star power we are able to relate to him easier that person we don't know. Nortons emotions are more real to us as he goes through the changing process in the film that would not be possible with an indie film of actors we dont recognize.

independent vs popular culture

As the reading states, in order for a film to be independent it must be produced outside of major studios . I think independent films are less appealing to an audience not because of its budget but because it is less entertaining then most hollywood films. We have discussed in class how hollywood leads away from realistic issues unlike what both black films and black independent films strive to achieve. "Black independent cinema approaches film as a research tool". It uses film as a way to get the black community and its issues across the mainstream screen. She's gotta have it by spike lee shows how an attractive woman has three men competiting to gain her affection. The film takes a turn by reversing the roles of the player from black male to black female, she has the oppertunity of using her sexuality to control men in her favor. Although this film was produced in the 1986, a similar idea was done in 2006 by David silberg. While this film does not focus on african american culture, it does contribute the same idea of women being in the "player" position. They create a bet to see who will be able to land a guy first and who can capture it on tape. Both these films put women in control of the man by using their sexuality. Both films had smaller budgets but Spike lees film focused on african american society and therfore was less recieved by an audience, however Silbergs film was just viewed by a television audience so it has a similar aspect to an indpedent film.

Independent vs. Popular film

Most of my favorite independent films don't exactly have specific topics paralleled in mainstream movies, so I did some research and decided to compare "Save the Last Dance" and "Crash." Oddly enough, although "Crash" won the Oscar for Best Picture, it was an independent film. "Save the Last Dance" was distributed by Paramount Pictures. Both films deal with racial relations, and although Crash is a more serious film, I feel STLD more successfully examined the issue. I realize many will disagree, because Crash is much more dramatic and poignant, but it excessive amount of characters and plot lines make it emotionally connect. STLD is no masterpiece, but it centers around a smaller group of characters, allowing the plot to develop more. A more developed plot allows the themes to resonate more, where I found Crash slightly overwhelming.
Part of the appeal of STLD is its romantic plot line. There wasn't much room in Crash for a full fledged romance between characters, but as a mainstream film, the writers of STLD probably knew that a romance was necessary to attract viewers. With fewer characters, it's easier to understand how each individual character feels in each situation. The repercussions of the interracial relationship are given more attention in STLD than in Crash. Crash uses a creative structure to tell its story, which is common for independent films, but I don't think it was as successful as it could have been.

Hollywood and Child Abuse

Child abuse, especially in the sexual nature, is a topic rarely explored by Hollywood films. And Hollywood has its reasoning — this isn't the stuff of romantic comedies or action spectacles; this is serious business that the American public is not going to flock to the theatre to see. So the independent filmmaking community already has an advantage when dealing with this controversial topic, in that budgets will often be lower, and therefore not as big a concern in recouping, as compared with their Hollywood counterparts.

Two films that deal with this weighty issue are Mysterious Skin (2004, dir. Gregg Araki, distributed by TLA Releasing) and Georgia Rule (2007, dir. Garry Marshall, distributed by Universal Pictures). An obvious difference in these films is that, though Mysterious Skin was not widely distributed (and had a gross revenue of $697,181) and Georgia Rule (gross venue $24,991,167) was shown in theaters throughout the country, Skin was much better reviewed than Rule. Mysterious Skin has been called "an uncommonly accurate portrayal of the long-term effect of child sexual abuse on boys" (psychologist Richard Gartner) and "at once the most harrowing and, strangely, the most touching film I have seen about child abuse" (Roger Ebert). Georgia Rule, however, has been deemed "a sit-com about sexual abuse" (Ebert and Roeper guest critic). This lies in the way that sexual abuse is presented in both of these films, both dealing with teenagers who were abused in their past. In Mysterious Skin, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Brady Corbet's characters cope with this tragic experience by not really knowing how to deal with it — Gordon-Levitt's character continues to sleep with older men, eventually hustling himself on the streets of New York City, and Corbet's character remembers the incident as an alien abduction, and spends his young adulthood trying to piece his childhood together. Yes, these boys "grow" because of the experience, but it is presented entirely as destructive in nature, in how it affects both their lives and their (in-)ability to connect with others around them. The plot and the characters of Mysterious Skin grow organically from this childhood trauma; Corbet's character comes to acknowledge the fact that he was abused, but there is no "recovery" presented in this narrative. What happened is something that these boys will have to deal with for the rest of their lives.

Georgia Rule is, well, another story. Lindsay Lohan portrays a rebellious teen who is sent to go stay with her grandmother. Lohan wreaks more havoc during the visit, and in a similar vein of Gordon-Levitt's character, attempts to seduce an older man, to whom she admits she was abused by her father. This allegation of abuse is eventually proven to be true, which unites the women of the family in a stance against the abusive father, and brings them closer together than ever before. So the abuse in Georgia Rule is presented as a possible cause for destructive teenage behavior, but instead of showing the lack of true closure and recovery possible for those who have experienced such, Rule, in the Hollywood fashion of needing a happy ending, ends up presenting child abuse as something that brings families closer together. So, in a way, as a good thing.

So Hollywood, with its need to please the public and the box office, really cannot deal with such tricky topics as child abuse in as a respectful and honest fashion as the independent film sector.

Independent film vs. popular film

When reading Diawaras book and her descriptions of different depictions of black life and characters in independent and Hollywood films, especially when she says that in Hollywood films, black people cannot just love or hate each other, or enjoy their lives without references to the white world, but there always has to be something exotic about them, and that the otherness is really stressed. In this sense, I was reminded of the films She's gotta have it by Spike Lee and Angel Heart, a Hollywood film starring Robert DeNiro, Mickey Rourke and Lisa Bonet. Both films have black characters and a love story, but Lee's film depicts its characters as just regular people. The black female has simultaneous relationships with three different black men, and the film largely deals with the resulting conflicts and problems. The film makes no references to white culture, still the characters are diverse enough to provide a chance for identification to the viewer.
In contrast, Lisa Bonet's character in Angel heart is a young voodoo priestess in New Orleans, who serves as a way for Mickey Rourke's character to access the 'other world', the black society in the south, and who ultimately also becomes his love interest.
Both women in the films are young, beautiful and present a certain sexual hunger, but the presentation of black womanhood in both films differs, because Nola in Lee's film is totally in control of the situation, and it is her who sets the rules for the relationship, making her independent and self-conscious, whereas Epiphany in Angel Heart mainly serves as an exotic alien character in the film, who represents black culture as being entirely different from white culture, and the film heavily plays on the interracial relationship between the two characters. It is depicted as if the relationship was almost another adventure for the white character.

9/16 Discussion Question

Reading about Car Wash reminded me a bit of Barbershop; not just because the two films are about seemingly-routine errand stops, but also because the two films take a closer look at everyday life in the Black community. I found it interesting that Richard Dyer made the point about the difference between White musicals and Black musicals (like Car Wash). The White musical, more often than not, will have a "happily ever after" feel to its ending, while the Black musical takes on a slightly different tone. While its characters do not suffer cruel fates or sad endings, they typically do not experience the happy ending that characters in White musicals experience. Rather, they continue about their lives like every other day. Barbershop follows this guide, but just to a certain extent. One would assume that, because Ice Cube's character does not follow through with his plan to sell his barbershop, things would just go back to the way they were at the start of the film. Instead, the shop has newfound life and energy (which could be understood, as its employees realize that they still have jobs). If I had to pick one which better captured the essence of the Community, I would probably say Car Wash, based on Dyer's description.

Hollywood Potrayals of Blackness

After viewing the clip from The Associate it became apparent to me that it is just as important for the main character to be black, just as it is that she is a woman. The film is meant to be empowering to women because it shows that they can be just as good in the business world as men. However, by making the character black, it is also meant to be empowering to blacks because it tries to diminish the racial boundaries by showing that blacks are just as good as whites in the business world. However, I feel that the message the film is trying to send could be much more empowering if it took itself and its message more seriously. By having comedic elements in the scene (her kissing the man on stage) it detracts from the message it's trying to present. I feel that a Hollywood movie such as Malcom X is more empowering because it takes its serious issues like it should: seriously. That film shows that blacks are just as intelligent and articulate and can be leaders just like white people, which The Associate did in a comedic way.

Parting Glances and Philadelphia

There is one gem of a film made during the height of the AIDS-era called Parting Glances. Steve Buscemi plays a listless rock star dying of AIDS, but he is no Christ-like figure. He's a humorous and at times existential effete, who truly misses the days of wine and roses that have passed and is not filled with regret for what he enjoyed. Parting Glances portrays the dynamics of several unorthodox gay relationships: gay-marriage-like pairings, a young 21-year-old who enjoys the status of his beauty, a gay man happily and conveniently married to a straight woman. No one bothers to give speeches about the horrors of homophobia, or the cataclysm of AIDS. It's very much a movie of its moment, a portrait of a segment of New York that was experiencing a great cataclysm and the jokes of the movie carry a sad weight. The movie reminds me of a line from an Andrew Holleran novel: "I think the '80s were a very nice dinner party with friends, except someone was taken out and shot every few minutes."

Philadelphia, on the other hand, is a movie in which no gay man is anything less than a saint (Tom Hanks's character mustn't be allowed to have anything less than a well-functioning marriage to Antonio Banderas...oh, and he lets his underlings off early on Friday afternoons), in which certain black characters exist solely for the purpose of connecting the civil rights struggle with the gay rights struggle, and in which homophobic corporate bosses have all the subtlety of a Bela Lugosi villain. The movie is laughable today, a sign that Hollywood had come out a little too late in tackling a VERY IMPORTANT ISSUE THAT WE MUST WEAR RED RIBBONS FOR.

Parting Glances is a tone poem. Philadelphia is social realist agitprop.

Both films, Charles Burnett’s 1977, Killer of Sheep and Christopher Erskin’s 2004, Johnson Family Vacation, address middle class Black Family issues. The films differ on a variety of levels due to a near 30-year difference. Both films activate different genres. I wonder if comedy would have been as effective to a 1977 audience to address the issues Burnett considers, as they seem to work for Erskin in 2004. It’s hard to say which film more adequately dealt with representations of the Black Family and the way family members confront adverse conditions. I think a general argument suggests that cinema has become more commercial overall, so director’s attempts to speak to an audience become convoluted in cinema for-profit politics. Personally, I find Burnett’s, Killer of Sheep, far more interesting in the way it handles the social issues at hand. The cinematography is very didactic, the music compelling and the narrative demonstrates innovative technique. Burnett’s 1977 style would probably be considered avant-garde or “independent” by today’s standards. Although Erskin’s film is considerably flattened by its storyline and comedic effect, it points to an argument that can be made about Black social issues in cinema more generally. What’s so funny?

Where have they gone...

I thought about what African American woman I had seen recently in a film (outside of Halle Berry) and I had a terrible time. Then I realized that this would not have been the case 10 years ago. Whoppi Goldberg, Vivica A Fox, and Queen Latifa I thought to be staples in the film world. Latifa has made some recent movies but not that I have seen or that have garnered high popularity, and Goldberg and Fox seem to be not existent. I understand that maybe Fox and Goldberg may be long in tooth, but where are the replacements? Is Beyonce at that level in the film world? I can't think of who would truly be the face of the African Feminist Film world.

The last African American woman I saw in a film was Naomie Harris in 28 days later. In this film and others of hers (Pirates of the Caribean 2/3) she is strong character that seems to have power but doesn't hold on to it. She has a sexual essences but is almost animalistic/tribal in these films. I think this is something of interest in comparing Reid that strong female African American character can't be strong willed without be tribal and out of control. It shows, with comparison to the above paragraph that African American Women have a long way to go in Classic Cinema.

Today I was flipping through the channels and "Bringing Down the House" was on TV. It stars Queen Latifah and Steve Martin, and most of the comedy comes from how different their characters are from each other. The cultural/racial and socioeconomic differences play a huge part. I was about 12 when that movie came out, so I didn't read too far into it. I just thought it was funny. Watching it now, with this class in mind, I have a few thoughts.
First, I love Queen Latifah. But that's not relevant...I noticed that, as in a few of her movies, she plays the character Reid talked about: a black woman serving as the "friend" who gives white people advice. Granted, she is a main character with her own issues to worry about, and is even on the movie poster, but in the end of the movie, she successfully reunites Steve Martin's character, Peter, with his ex-wife and helps Peter's daughter with her high school problems.
In one scene, though, the movie parodies the long tradition of black servants in film. Peter's family is having guests, and he doesn't want to explain why Queen Latifah's character, Charlene, is staying in his house. So he convinces her to masquerade as his servant. It's obvious she feels demeaned by the charade, but she does it to help him. Even though it is a joke, it's still a little old fashioned that the most reasonable explanation they could think of for having a black woman in the house is that she's their maid.
I also thought of Reid's arguments about "Soul Food," and the female's relationship to her family. Charlene serves as a stand-in for the mom/wife of Peter's family until he is reunited with his ex-wife.
At first Charlene's character seems stereotypical, but in many ways she battles stereotypes. She was in prison, but her ex-boyfriend framed her for the crime. She seems rough, but she really has a good heart. This isn't the deepest movie ever, but it attempts to deconstruct the stereotypes of urban African Americans.
It also reminded me of the documentary we watched. This movie can get away with a lot of jokes about race because it treats them as humor and parody.

Theory and Practice

The two films that I think depict issues in differing ways are Sankofa and Sweet Sweetback's Badasssssss Song.

The indie film Sankofa works in a very direct, and succinct way in getting the message across to viewers that there is a sense of exploitation still present in our society, and while the social climate is less tumultuous in modern times than they were in the past, there is still a present theme in the film regarding African American oppresion at the hands of the white oligarchy, or society.

This issue is also present in Sweetback, but from what I've read this week, it seems as if critics walk away from this film with a mixed take, or an ambiguous analysis of the film. On one hand the film does depict African Americans in inner city settings coping with poor living conditions, but the avant garde depictions and mise-en-scene seem to leave some people feeling these issues are slightly undermined as the film progresses. Thus, the theme is still present, but it's more difficult to acknowledge in light of a film like Sankofa.

Black Female Representation

What I've noticed in female centered film is that there isn't really a happy medium for black female characters. They are usually depicted as very weak or too masculine. Now I'm not saying that is for every film, but it does occur a lot. In regards to progressive female films, the female always needs to overcome her troubles, which generally involve a black man. For example, in Monster's Ball, Halle Berry's character is alone, left to deal with her troubles with the help of a black man. There are a lot more movies with white women who are depicted as stronger beings, capable of overcoming their obstacles, with or without a man.

Womanist Films

The last film I saw with a black female character in it was Monsters Ball, and I do have to say that I absolutely agree with Reid's perception that Halle Berry appears like a desired sexualized object (p.100). It might be true that, as Reid states, there are several movies, for example How Stella got her groove back or Waiting to exhale, where black female characters are comparable to white characters on screen both in intelligence and social status. But overall, a lot of the black characters, and not only the ones Whoopi Goldberg played often throughout her career, are still modeled after the old black screen stereotypes. In fact, when I watched the scene in Monsters Ball where the two main characters are about to have sex, the way Halle Berry's character approached Thornton's character reminded me a ittle bit of The Birth of a Nation, there is a scene where a black character, clearly the jezebel stereotype, approaches a white character in a similar manner.

Professor Whaley Post: One Must Return to the Past to Move Forward: Black Women in Film

HI Everyone,

We will watch Pinky and Imitation of Life later in the semester, but Reid mentions them (and other films) so I thought I'd upload some clips to familiarize you with films that you have (perhaps) not seen.

Pinky:





Set it Off (final scene):



The Associate

Black Female Representation in Film

This question was kind of difficult for me because I haven't watched a movie in its entirety for a very long time, but if I remember correctly, the last one I watched was Love and Basketball. In that movie, Sanaa Lathan's character is very strong-willed and independent. Reid frequently mentions the Womanist analysis in his writing; Lathan's character seems to fit in well with this perspective in that she is, as mentioned before, strong-willed and all about following her own path. At the end of Chapter 5, Reid mentions "Hollywood binary images of black womanhood as either overweight matriarchs or brazen vixens." In Love and Basketball, Lathan's character is neither one of these prototypes (despite her otherworldly attractiveness) because of the complexity of her personality, which ranges from fiery to level-headed, stone-faced to wildly emotional, and needy to independent.

Reading Reid, Meaningful Concepts

The most meaningful concept in the first Reid reading was that of the dual identity of early American film. The films of the Foster Photoplay Company and the Micheaux Film Corporation were not something I had ever heard of, and it seems that the entire phenomenon of 'race films' has been given far less space in the history of film than it should. When very small parts hampered by stereotyping is all most Americans think of when they reference pre-WWII film, I think it would be beneficial to the most casual film fan or any film scholar to know more about this period. It seems there was a parallel industry developing with seperate concerns before economic and social factors grounded it. Insofar as these early groups were continually limited in terms of production, one of the reasons I find this obscure history so compelling is that interesting results often are born from limited finances. I would love to see some of these films to study them, and it is unfortunate there isn't wider access to them.

Representation of Black female actresses

Reid states how majority of the time blak female actresses are in supporting roles, with white superiors. "In this narrative form, the black female house servant functions as the object by which the white heroine regains her self-confidence." Reid points out how the films present black female protagonists as selfish and establish their good will/ christian as the only means by which such black heroines can enter the sentimental hearts of a mainstream audience.
I think reid makes valid points of how black actresses were represented in the past when they were just a part of a dominate white cast. I think things have changed alot since then, where african american actresses are getting more lead roles in both films and television. Tylery perry has succeeded in writing and directoring numerous african american films with a mostly if not all black cast, Jada pinkett Smith is the lead role in the medical t.v show Hawthorne. Queen Latifah has also been successful as a lead role both primarily black and white films. I think the times have changed in that black female actresses are playing fewer supporting roles as a servant or someone inferior to their white castmates.

The “racial ceiling”, which Reid uses to describe “institutionalized” marginalization of Black Actors, Actresses and Film makers, is interesting in the way that it mirrors sociopolitical advantages and disadvantages experienced by African Americans and people of color in real time. “During the earliest period of American film, black independent filmmaking lost talented actors to a Hollywood that was willing to hire them” (Reid 13). Attracted by financial gain, many industry Blacks became convinced that “upwardly mobile” meant Hollywood lights. Albeit true to a degree, some might argue in whole-hearted approval. Limitations and challenges industry Blacks faced such as trivialized roles, type-casting and utter “Bamboozlement”, became necessary stepping-stones to successful careers. Yet, only the elite (“Hollywood Worthy”) Blacks could attain them. I begin to wonder as structures become more apparent, how are actors really performing, simultaneously performing on screen? Reid suggests, while Black Actors and technicians clamor at red carpet dreams, many independent Black filmmakers are left crawling on the cutting room floor. I think Reid’s point is meaningful in the way that it foregrounds problematic aspects of the American film industry while gesturing at issues that emerge in a general discussion of labor, economics and identity politics in America.

Shadow Filmmaking

Mark Reid writes, “From their very independent beginnings to the present, African-American filmmakers have treated similar black-oriented themes and social issues within popular genre forms. These filmmakers injected black cultural content into western, musical, family melodrama, detective, and gangster film genres.” In essence, Reid is describing a shadow Hollywood, one that is employing the basic entertainment structures of the mainstream industry for its own uses. Some would see this as an implicit suggestion that such endeavors must produce only inauthentic dark-hued parodies. Josh Gibson was known, in shorthand, as the “Black Babe Ruth.” The western, as we know it today, was created by first white writers and then white filmmakers. Westerns with black casts are not simply “westerns,” they are “black westerns.” The basic contours of the movie musical – which may very well have involved black-composed or black-inspired music - were still laid out by white filmmakers. And so musicals with all-black casts are not simply “musicals” but “black musicals.”

What I am trying to say is that Reid is describing a filmmaking tradition that is based as much on cultural and political reaction as creation. A mainstream – one that is not particularly welcoming of black talent – had been set down with a few basic norms. It is now the job of black filmmakers – historically unwelcomed in the mainstream - to set to work always with an eye upon that mainstream. When such a concept is carried forward to more recent films of the last 40 years, we are led to describe Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing as a reaction to mostly white urban studies, while describing Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, no matter how radical a break it appears, as working within a tradition of noir film.

I am a believer that genres are good things. They provide a formula, like a basic frame for a good filmmaker, like a good jazz musician, to improvise and play with. Reid’s writing suggests that for blacks, this mode of improvisation with such established norms, carries with it a stranger historical weight.

The weight of Indie Films

While going through Reid's first chapter, I thought the ways in which African-American indie film makers went about producing their projects was interesting. It all seemed to go down like anything does in an industry. Actors, directors, and production staff all work for little money to produce accurate, genuine films that depict African Americans like anyone else in this society. However, because Hollywood was able to offer an equal opportunity in their employment, many of the talented people putting their heart and soul into this particular outlet are easily persuaded by the perks Hollywood offers with larger paychecks.

Thus, I feel as if Indie African American films have an even more important meaning to African Americans now, because the resources in producing these films are less prevalent than they were in the past.

Important Concept

Something I think that the history of black filmmakers have in common with any other filmmakers is the internal struggle to make independent films with the freedom to say what you want, how you want it, or to "sell out" and take a job in the Hollywood system because they are paying and offering you a job. However, I think this struggle made it even more difficult for the African American cinema to really get its voice heard because Hollywood was causing them to fall short when it came to the number of people needed to make the movie. I think especially since few people in the black film community had the opportunity to go to film school at that time, the number of trained people in the community was even lower.

Meaningful Concepts

Reid made alot of good points throughout his first chapter, but what stood out to me was that majority of black film makers did not attend a film school. They still remained apart of the business, and eventually progressed as the years passed. After a group of black filmakers actually attended film school, they continuted the same focus african american community,as previous black directors had done. I also thought it was interesting how Reid discusses a directors reputation and the films success at the box office in order for them to get the best oppertunites of people to work with. He gives the example of Forest Whitakers "Waiting to Exale", after its box office success, he recieved a better budget from 20th century fox and was able to hire Sandra Bullock for the lead. I found it interesting that Reid compared Whitakers success to Spike Lee, who also has had well received films, but yet he has also fallen short at the box office numerous times. Spike Lee still remains a notable director in Hollywood despite his failures. I thought it was an intriguing point to make, and a good comparison between the two directors.

Late Start

I don't know how to describe this as a concept, but to me I think the gap between African American cinema and Classic Cinema is what is the most surprising to me. In recent years the oscars has recognized African American Cinema more specifically its actors, but as whole the majority of the Oscars favor Classic Narrative Cinema.

Studying film for 2 years now academically I feel that this gap is closing, but still lacking the following that would even the two for good. I would like to understand why there isn't as much of a following because the styles and narrative are similar to that of Classic Narrative. African American actors are gaining lots of star power as well, such as Denzel Washington, Forrest Whitaker, Morgan Freeman, Halle Berry, and many others.

Meaningful Concepts

I had heard of the movie "Bones" before, because I am a fan of the show "Bones," and the two often come up in the same web search. However, I had not heard of "Def by Temptation," nor did I realize how important "Bones" was. The interpretation of black horror films was completely new to me. I found Reid's scene by scene analysis both interesting and informative. It's cool how so many different genres carry significance for the study of black film.
I was also previously unaware of the specific eras in black film making, like the second renaissance of the 60s and 70s. That whole era was filled with social change, like the civil rights movement, so it makes sense that African American filmmakers would flourish during that time.

Reid, Chapter 1

After reading Chapter 1 of Black Lenses, Black Voices, I found myself impressed by the versatility of Black directors, actors, and crew members. Many directors have appeared as actors, or have worked on crews, or both. This seemed to be the case not just in the 1980s and 1990s with Spike Lee and Forest Whitaker, but also at the onset of Black motion pictures, with Oscar Micheaux. In later chapters, Reid lists individuals who had "graduated" from crew member to director and/or writer. I was impressed by this work ethic, especially by those directors in the earlier years. They likely were not given much room to be creative, nor would they have been given much money by the individuals funding their work, so they had to perform a variety of jobs on the film.

Black Lenses, Black Voices

There were a lot of things in Mark Reid's book Black Lenses, Black Voices that I found important. However, I think the most meaningful concept was just about how hard Black directors, cinematographers and writers have have to try just to be put on the same level as other directors, cinematographers and writers that don't share the same race.

Now, I know that there are very famous Black directors, but there are obviously a lot more White directors that have had more success and fame for doing the same job. It also took many, many years for Black directors to gain recognition for their achievements.

Black Film History

One of the most meaningful concepts of Black Film to me is the fact that black filmmakers always tried to show that the African American community is a part of American society and does not live on an alien planet. Therefore, black films, especially action films but also comedies or dramas, were often recreations of similar white film plots. However, at the same time directors and writers nevertheless included distinctively African American elements, such as the urban experience or segregation, to appeal to both black and white audiences.

Black Oscars

Of course Oscars are important for the success of any actor, no matter if black or white. In this regard, the black Oscars were basically a successful night for black actors, but it was rather a success for black actors than for black film. Both Washington and Berry won Oscars for films with black starring roles, but without significant African American content.

Meaningful Concept

As an aficionado and potentially aspiring member of the independent film community, I very much respect any filmmaker who deliberately chooses not to take part in the easier, though limiting, realm of Hollywood filmmaking. Thus, the "LA Rebellion" of the late seventies, outlined by Reid on page 11, is especially meaningful to me. All filmmakers, yes, who decide to work outside the system are to be admired, but this particular wave of filmmakers, being university trained, could have easily gotten much more steadily-paying jobs in equal opportunity Hollywood (13). So it would have been a very understandable reality had there been no "rebellion" during this time period, and Black filmmakers had sought economic stability over the ability to more directly control their films. These black filmmaking rebels were influenced by other revolutions that made their own lasting impacts on cinema (Italian Neorealism, French New Wave), yet the films of the LA Rebellion were able to truly explore what it meant to be Black in ways that Hollywood-produced cinema could not. Regretfully, this choice to work outside the system can lead to a smaller budget and thus less production capabilities, but that "lack of money" really came to define the LA Rebels' style (12). Also, though both types of Black filmmaking at this time used African American actors, popular music, and genres, the Hollywood filmmakers, even with their higher budgets, were usually not university trained, and also were often restricted to "exploit[ing] the more exotic elements of the Black American experience," as opposed to possibly limitless range of ideas to be explored by the independents (12-13). So, if it were not for those LA Rebels, Black independent film, and independent cinema as a whole, could not exist as it does today.

Notable awards often provide legitimization in the eyes of the masses. However flattering this recognition and legitimization may be, it is decided by the individual how much it means to them personally. Denzel acknowledged this in his acceptance speech by noting that he challenged himself to be the best actor to himself and on this particular night, others agreed that he was the best. His plans on celebrating his celebrity were no different, "win or lose", he was going home to his children. In terms of Hollywood and "box office" speak, awards can be influential and can sway roles and jobs due to potential earning power. In terms of personal artistry and performance, it is ultimately up to the artist to decide how to receive their credit and criticism.

How important are awards to the success and professional legitimatization of Black American actors and/or directors?

There are different interpretations of the word "success." An actor/director can achieve great financial success or critical acclaim without winning an award. However, an award usually leads to greater financial success.
Without a doubt, awards lead to mainstream recognition. When people win Oscars, they will probably be in higher demand and will be offered more roles/jobs, and higher salaries. They will receive more respect, and be taken more seriously. They will also probably be offered more commercial endorsements, and be on the cover of more magazines. This doesn't necessarily legitimize them, but it does give them a more concrete role in mainstream show business, which is very present in our culture.
When African American actors/directors win awards, it seems to say that we are making progress. Success is being enjoyed by all races. Discrimination is on the way out.
I'm not saying those statements are true, but they are generally used in propaganda.
In my opinion, awards won't have much of an effect on the racial politics in Hollywood until black actors and directors are more present in movies. Hollywood movies are still pretty much dominated by white actors and directors. The Oscars only happen once a year, but new movies are released almost every week.

Seal of Approval

I tend to have a prejudice against all awards, be it the proudly middlebrow Academy Awards or the proudly highbrow Cannes. I have met too many people who have served on juries for film festivals throughout Europe and America and heard too many hilarious stories to take the final decisions rendered with any grain of seriousness. Almost every award is based on the biases, prejudices, and tastes of the select few group of people who hand them out. I also question the anger or righteousness with which people talk about awards, particularly the Oscars. If you like a movie, what do you care whether or not a committee bestows an honor on it? Do you really need a seal of approval for your personal tastes? And I hate the way the Oscar discussion kills what could be a far more interesting conversation: “I loved seeing Michael Caine in Harry Brown. Do you think he could get a Best Actor Oscar for this? I mean that would be the first time he ever won a Best Actor Oscar. He usually gets supporting roles…”

Within the context of African-Americans and the Academy Awards, we are of course faced with very different stakes that we should not ignore. Despite the noted improvement of the last 20 years, there has always been a general lack of good parts available to black actors and actresses, and a pityingly low number of inside-Hollywood black filmmakers. If the Academy Awards do matter for African-Americans, they matter as a barometer for black accomplishment. The Oscars have honored some spectacular artists throughout the years, but they have also elevated truly awful performances. African-American artists will have achieved success in Hollywood when they are consistently honored for the same level of mediocrity as their white counterparts in the industry. On that note, of all the African-American artists to have won so far, Halle Berry’s win marks the greatest story. She won the award for a sub-par performance based on the same criteria for which several other actresses have won the award in the past. She was a beautiful woman who played someone unglamorous. And she gave an appropriately effusive speech, one that the members of the Academy were hoping she would give. She honored the memory of Dorothy Dandridge…then she thanked her manager. She played the game absolutely perfectly and she was rewarded for her efforts.

Jeffrey Wright is probably the best actor, white or black, I know of to be completely ignored by the Oscars. Much can be said for the disparate images of blackness he exudes as the dignified investigative lawyer-turned-cynical opportunist in Syriana, as the coolly sexual Muddy Waters in Cadillac Records, as the undercover CIA agent Felix in Daniel Craig’s James Bond movies. Racism may or may not be the reason he’s never been appropriately honored. Perhaps he’s too quiet an actor, the kind who can be the best thing in a movie without stealing scenes from his cast-mates, to be recognized. The Academy tends to have a bias for scenery-chewers. But I believe any of his roles can engender a conversation well beyond, “Do you think this may be Wright’s year? He has some stiff competition from the great veteran Michael Caine.”

Setting the bar...

When any type of person wins an award they set themselves/face at that high standard for that category. When they achieve that standard they in turn become what people in that same category want as the pinnacle of achievement in that category...

When an African American actor such as Denzel Washington wins and Academy Award he is now the pinnacle for achievement for acting. Even though many actors/actress have won best actor people by nature often relate to whom they are most similar, and largely the African American community relate to Denzel Washington as the pinnacle of achievement.

I think this relationship is important because it lets aspiring actors or the African American community that being black and the Academy Award Winner for Best Actor is a possible achievement. It would be nice to say that this is obvious and of course it was possible but seeing is believing and having that inspiration is an invaluable asset to the African American community.

Considering African Americans as a site in the context of American cinema as well as capital and commodity in general, his/her body is innately opaque. As individuals move through time and space, progressing in many different directions, bodies are assigned with ideologies and become real things. Essentially the African American body is a conditional statement. One is acculturated as he/she maneuvers the “social apparatus”. While award shows, the award as an item and actors, actresses, directors and technical hands comprise the cinema, it is the audience that sustains the prestige, purchases tickets and ultimately interprets the cinematic image. It is “important” for African Americans and people of “general color” to (visibly) receive awards in order to effectively create new ideologies that can be included in the language and discourse of American visual culture.

Simpson’s essay deconstructs the significance of awards by directing attention to the specific characteristics of the roles which actors/actresses play. Portraying black masculinity to an extreme degree, Denzel Washington won Best Actor. And, portraying a dependent black woman to a similar extreme degree, Halle Barry received best actress.

Although awards are necessary for African American’s and people of color in general to receive, they are merely decorative. A place to bake is of equal importance, if not greater than frosting on the cake.

How important are awards to the success and professional legitimatization of Black American actors and/or directors?

Although, as we've discussed, awards are not always due to the actual performance or work of the actors/directors, I still think it has some value. Awards are what make a lot of people watch certain movies. They bring the names of these people to the mainstream, and make people know who they are. They give a certain credibility that often times leads the person to get more work that they might not have had access to otherwise. For example, Jennifer Hudson got an Oscar for her role in "Dreamgirls." This was a girl who was rejected on American Idol, and probably got the role for her voice, rather than her acting skills. The fact that she won an Oscar put her out there, and made her a more credible actress and singer. She got several more roles following the award that I doubt she would have gotten if she had just been on American Idol. A director who wins an Oscar is more likely to get a lot more freedom with his next project, since he is now an Oscar winning director. People are a lot more likely to trust someone with an award under their belt. So, to summarize, I guess my definition of success in the movie industry has a lot to do with the number of opportunities and projects you are offered and able to do, and therefore, I do think that awards are fairly important to actors/directors, especially if they haven't one any before.