Over the past few years, there has been a fair amount of discussion about race and Hollywood . Some of that discussion has occurred on this blog. Once again the topic is hitting the press. This time the specific issue is about the racial diversity of writers and the focus is on a report written by Darnell Hunt, director of the Ralphe J. Bunche Center for African American Studies and Professor of Sociology at UCLA.  The executive summary of Hunt’s report notes that while “more than 30% of the American population is non-white, writers of color continue to account for less than 10% of employed television writers." The report goes on to conclude that "these numbers will likely get worse before they get better because of the recent merger of UPN and the WB into the new CW Network, which resulted in the cancellation of several minority-themed situation comedies that employed a disproportionate share of minority television writers.”  Hunt observes that the situation is even worse in the context of film writing where "where the minority share of employment has been stuck at 6% for years."  The issue raises a question about the relationship among black writers, black roles and black images. For example, does more black writers necessarily mean better black images (and I recognize that there is not likely to be consensus on the question of what constitutes “better” images)?  To put the question slightly differently, why do we want more black writers? Maybe it’s not that we want more black writers but that we think that the fact that there are so few suggests that there is a discrimination problem.  Under this view, what we want is non-discrimination. But maybe we want more black writers because we think it will lead to more black roles and better black images.  I am not convinced about the better black images point, in part because of my sense that Black and non-black writers are going to subject to market pressures.  But I am certainly open to being persuaded otherwise and so look forward to your views. The Hollowood Reporter’s discussion of the matter can be found at: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/news/e3i77c5a9f8c684e013b66d42b22005f6ca

I am a self-proclaimed “Survivor” fanatic (Don’t laugh too hard.). I religiously watch the program every Thursday evening, often rearranging my schedule to ensure that I can catch the show at its slotted time and feeling upset when I—TIVO-less and otherwise not savvy with technology—have an appointment or meeting that requires my missing the television series.  My true test of loyalty to “Survivor” came last season when its four competing tribes were divided by race/ethnicity: Asian-American, black, Latina/o, and white.  I was, to say the least, not pleased with the decision to “go Jim Crow,” and I was not alone in my views.  Numerous pundits expressed their shock and anger at the decision to formally segregate the contestants—all in the name of diversity.  Polls showed that the vast majority of Americans were offended by this new “social experiment.”  Sponsors for the series such as GM and Coca-Cola withdrew their commercial and advertisement support, though all asserted that their decision was not related to the new scheme for dividing tribes.

Although torn about the racial divide during last season’s program, I watched the controversial season (along with my friend and “Survivor” convert Professor Catherine Smith—whom I suspect is now also becoming a fanatic).  Overall, watching the season was uncomfortable for me.  If I was not worried about what meaning the public would attach to the early losses of the African-American tribe, I was concerned about what appeared to be continued racial alliances after the tribes were even integrated.  But, last season’s “Survivor” had an interesting twist at its end.  The final four survivors were all racial/ethnic minorities: a Korean-American man, a Korean-American woman, an African-American woman, and a Mexican-American man.  They reached the final four against all odds, consistently beating out the once bigger tribe of players in which reunited white contestants formed an alliance that slowly voted out each racial minority player on their tribe.  The final four’s success in last season’s series helped to support arguments, such as those made by Joshua Romero, who asserted that the game could actually work to demonstrate that “racially diverse teams make better decisions.”

This season, I have found “Survivor” to be a pleasant surprise.  This year’s contestants are racially and ethnically diverse, without the gimmick of segregation. Of the 19 players who started the game, five players were Latina/o, five were black, five were Asian-American, and four were white. Three players have ties to Hurricane Katrina, one player served in Iraq, and another player grew up homeless.  Jeff Probst, the program’s host, explained, “I think (executive producer) Mark (Burnett) and CBS wanted to show that we didn’t just [have a diverse cast] as a gimmick.  We really want to incorporate more diversity into the show.  And we’re gonna keep doing it as best we can.”  (However, like last season’s cast, which included 13 Californians, this year’s group is not geographically diverse either, with eight contestants from the Los Angeles area and two from the Bay area.  Also, to pull this diverse group together, “Survivor” again had to recruit its contestants, which explains why the cast is so heavily from California again; only one of the players had actually applied to be on the show.).

Most of all, this season I am enjoying watching the evolving friendship and alliance between Yau-Man Chan and Earl Cole. Yau-Man even expressed his surprise at their alliance in the last show, declaring something to this effect:  “Who would have guessed that a strong black man would befriend me and become my closest ally!”  Having formed a close bond on their former losing Ravu tribe, Yau-Man and Earl may end up helping to prove Joshua Romero’s argument about the strength of racial diversity.  Who can’t help but smile at the way in which these two men are working together and now winning with a team that is considerably weaker in terms of physical strength than its all-male, all-young opposing tribe (which actually now includes one woman).  At least at this point, this season is one in which I am thrilled to see the racial and ethnic diversity of the players, but highly disappointed that there can be only one winner as opposed to two in the game.

 

What does this mean?

My wife and I took our four-year-old boy to see the movie Happy Feet yesterday.  We had a conversation after the movie.

First, we talked about what we liked.  We all liked the animation, the music (including but not limited to various songs made famous by Prince and Stevie Wonder), the dancing (Savion Glover), the message that it is ok to be different (the main character Mumble was a tap dancer in a society that valued singing), and the warning about global warming and the need to protect the environment.   

Then we talked to him about what we didn’t like.  We told him that unlike the penguin Ramon, people who speak Spanish are not another “species” and they are all not always silly.  We told him that we didn’t care for the portrayal of the character Lovelace, a jive-talking, over-sexed charlatan.   Both Ramon and Lovelace were played by Robin Williams.  

We had a similar conversation after seeing the animated movie “Shark’s Tale.”  While we usually buy DVDs of animated movies, we didn’t buy Shark’s Tale, and we probably won’t buy “Happy Feet.” 

I understand that commercially successful animated films must appeal to both adults and children, and that the film was rated PG (many animated features today have such a rating).  It is also unlikely that Robin Williams’s characters will sufficiently offend enough parents to dramatically reduce the movie’s box office intake (indeed, this week the movie topped the charts and some African Americans and Latinos may be amused by Ramon and Lovelace). 

But as a parent, I remain frustrated.    

Apart from the fact that the movie is rather funny and does not take itself terribly seriously, I offer two reasons you might want to watch it.

1. It was released as the anti-film critic movie. That is, film critics did not have access to the film prior to its general release. This is generating discussions about whether this marketing strategy makes sense, and whether, increasingly, film critics are getting it wrong with respect to what is good (assuming good is measured, at least in part, by box office sales); and
2. The release of the film occurs at a time when Samuel L. Jackson, the film’s star, is being celebrated as the highest grossing box office actor. Likely this fact will have little impact on race and representation in Hollywood (am I wrong about that?).

I invite you to share your favorite Samuel Jackson movie/role. If you do not like Jackson or his movies, I invite you to share that as well.

My Aunt Sarah, sitting on her front porch, would often say to me , “Liquor make you tell the truth.” Her point was that, despite people’s claims that “the alchohol made me do it,” the state of inebriation doesn’t typically force us to say things we don’t mean. Instead, the spirits simply remove the inhibitions that police our inner most thoughts and feelings.

This certainly seemed to be the case last week when an intoxicated Mel Gibson was pulled over for speeding on a Malibu highway.  As the police attempted to take him into custody, Gibson went on a lengthy and vicious anti-Semitic tirade, seemingly blaming the Jews for everything from global warfare to Bobby Brown leaving New Edition.

Fully aware that such moves are a severe occupational hazard, a sobered up Gibson quickly issued a public statement in which he expressed regret and shame for his antics. More importantly, he expressed disbelief at the anti-Semitic nature of his own comments, assuring us that his drunken rant was not reflective of his true beliefs. Soon after, Jewish leaders like Abraham Foxman of the Anti-Defamation League, made it clear that they were unwilling to accept his apology. Why? Because they didn’t believe him.

Good for them.

The mother wit of my Aunt Sarah aside, there are multiple reasons to believe that Gibson is less than contrite. Despite numerous attempts, Gibson has failed to unequivocally reject his father’s claims that the Holocaust never happened, instead choosing to sidestep the question with fancy rhetorical footwork. Also, The Passion of the Christ, Gibson’s record-breaking film, placed exclusive blame on the Jews for the death of Jesus at the expense of Roman accountability. Additionally, Gibson has made equally vicious public statements against other groups, such as women and the LGBT community. Surely, all of these issues weighed into the ADL’s decision to reject Gibson’s dubious apology.

My point here isn’t to jump on top of the anti-Gibson pile, although there is plenty of reason to do so. Instead, I believe that there is a lesson to be learned here for everyone, particularly Black people: Stop accepting everyone’s apologies!

Of course, I am not suggesting that there aren’t moments when people’s true feelings are contradicted by their public comments. Nor am I ignoring the idea that people have the capacity to become different and better after receiving public or private critique. Under such circumstances, it is imperative that the aggrieved  party facilitate the healing process by forgiving, though never forgetting, their abuser. Unfortunately, in the current age of so-called political correctness, such instances are rare.

Far too often, public apologies are perfunctory gestures that have more to do with saving face than legitimate growth. Does anyone really think that Pat Robertson still doesn’t want Hugo Chavez assassinated? Has Rev. Willie Wilson really changed his disgusting views on gays and lesbians?  Does George W. Bush really feel bad about prisoner abuse in Abu Ghraib? Does Bobby Brown really regret leaving New Edition? A look at each of these men’s bodies of work certainly doesn’t inspire faith in their conversion experiences.

For Black people, the politics of apologies is particularly dangerous, as mea culpas are often used to end public discussion about complex and consistent problems. For example, what good is the Senate’s 2005 resolution to apologize for lynching if the modern day prison industrial complex is replicating the conditions of the very slave industry that enabled Black people to hang from trees? After such apologies are offered and accepted without concrete concessions (such as reparations), further public conversation is considered excessive, and persistent activists are conveniently tagged as race card players and pain pimps .

To be sure, public apologies can yield enormous symbolic and material value. It is critical, however, that we not fetishize repentant words and ignore the deeper complexities, contexts, and contradictions that informed the initial misstep.

The two articles can be divided into black and white.

The black article (buried in the Metro section), by Avis Thomas-Lester, describes the offense of some African Americans at the both the lyrics of the song and its performance on the Academy Awards (featuring iced out pimps and women in hot pants and rabbit fur). Someone from BET makes the point that the song is appropriate in the context of Hustle and Flow (unlike, say, the music from Crash - great performance on the Oscars, but I don’t remember it in the movie).

The white article (front page of the Style section), by Philip Kennicott, begins hilariously:

 "At dinner, say a month from now, perhaps it will be your very unhip great aunt who says it. Someone skimps her on dessert, so she looks plaintively down the table, waits for a moment of silence and then delivers the line -- 'It's hard out here for a pimp.' "

Kennicott then goes to make a vague point about the appropriation of black culture.  He doesn’t say whether black culture includes pimping, or just rapping about pimping. The more insightful part is the analysis of why a pimp’s complaint about his hard times seem to resonate with so many Americans.

Let me tell you the story of "Right Hand, Left Hand." It's a tale of good and evil. Hate: It was with this hand that Cane iced his brother. Love: These five fingers, they go straight to the soul of man. The right hand; the hand of Love. The story of life is this: Static. One hand is always fighting the other hand; and the left hand is kicking much ass. I mean, it looks like the right hand, Love, is finished. But hold on, stop the presses, the right hand is coming back. Yeah, he got the left hand on the ropes now, that's right! Ooh, it's the devastating right and Hate is hurt, he's down! Left hand Hate – K.O.ed by Love! 

This is pretty much what happened in Orlando over the weekend.   As I mentioned in a prior entry, Neo-Nazis scheduled a march through the black neighborhood of Parramore on Saturday.  It was scheduled to commence at 2 pm and end at 4 pm.

The Neo-Nazis called it off 90 minutes early.

They were met by a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural contingent of counter-protestors who responded to Neo-Nazi chants of “White People Unite” and “White Pride” with there own messages, including this memorable one  – “Greet Hate with Love.”

Police noted that there were only a handful of arrests – mostly Neo-Nazi sympathizers – and very little violence.  According to Orlando Police Chief Mike McCoy, “You could not have asked for a better outcome.  I have never seen Orlando come together like they did for this.”  This sentiment was echoed by a number of other counter-protestors in attendance, one of which remarked “This is America’s future, one people coming together.”
 
The full story in the Orlando Sentinel can be found here.

Congratulations to the good folks in Orlando and central Florida for coming together and “doing the right thing” in the name of love, justice, and community.

The premise of the film is relatively straight forward – what would America look like if the South had won the Civil War?  The film is apparently done in a “mockumentary” style, which according to some reviews is both unnerving and hilarious.

An excerpt from Entertainment Weekly:

C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America could be the most controversial movie you'll never see this year. With scenes of slaves being hawked on a QVC-type TV network and Abe Lincoln portrayed in blackface, the critically lauded faux Ken Burns-style documentary — which traces an alternate history of slavery in America had the South won the Civil War — proved incendiary when it premiered at Sundance in 2004. ''Being outrageous gives us a way to get a handle on the race issue,'' says writer-director Kevin Willmott. ''We're gonna have to stop being PC or we aren't going to make it. And our film pulls the drawers down around the problem and exposes it.''

Unfortunately, the release is quite limited.  A list of screening locations can be found on the film’s website.  Hopefully, the film is coming to a theater of viewing room near you.

1. A Soldier’s Story (Norman Jewison, 1984)
2. Sounder (Martin Ritt, 1972)
3. Ragtime (Milos Forman, 1981)
4. To Kill a Mockingbird (Robert Mulligan, 1962)
5. Black Like Me (Carl Lerner, 1964)
6. For Queen and Country (Martin Stellman, 1988)
7. Sayonara (Joshua Logan, 1957)
8. Cry, The Beloved Country (Zoltan Korda, 1951)
9. A Dry White Season (Euzhan Palcy, 1989)
10. In the Heat of the Night (Norman Jewison, 1967)

Am I missing any? I would love to see what films others think should be included or deserve mention.

The movie is well-done, touching, and surprisingly funny.   Some reviewers have complained that it is a mere re-hash of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? (it’s not) or that it doesn’t deal seriously enough with profound racial issues (hello, this is a romantic comedy – not a drama or a documentary).   The movie is, for the most part, very real; Kenya could be any one of many of my black female Harvard Law School classmates  – driven, bright, well-to-do, and fiercely dedicated to preserving the culture and lineage of African-Americans.  O.K., there is one severe break with reality in the film: Kenya takes out her weave and her hair looks not only magnificent but better than when she had the stick-straight weave.  Please … we black women know that weaves destroy our hair (unless you get really, really lucky); a more likely scenario would be that Kenya takes out her weave and is forced to cut her hair down to the scalp.  But I digress.  

Aside from loving the movie and the script, I was delighted by another aspect of my night at the movies on Friday.  I live in West Los Angeles, and the theatre closest to our house is generally filled with well-to-do persons of many races (mostly White) … but I rarely see a Black face.   Yet on Friday, the house was packed with Black folks.   And when the movie ended, the audience clapped – something that has otherwise happened only once at any movie showing that I have attended since moving to West Los Angeles (the home of film snobs).   As we walked out of the theatre, people were smiling and laughing and reminiscing about scenes in the movie.    I felt a sense of warmth and community (albeit fleeting) that I rarely feel in L.A.   I realized that this emotional wave we were all riding was a result of having (finally) watched a Black romantic-comedy that was smart, dead-on, funny, and that  treated our culture and Black professional life with cinematic respect.

Last week Oprah interviewed Dave Chappelle about his much-gossiped-about escape from L.A. to South Africa.  Chappelle basically said that (among other issues) he was tired of being “socially irresponsible” – depicting Black people in a way that resulted in White people laughing at him rather than with him.   And in an uncomfortable yet true moment, he wondered aloud why it is that somehow every successful black male actor eventually ends up in some movie in a dress.

So last week I had the pleasure of witnessing two proud moments for Blacks in Hollywood, an industry that tends to peddle in well-worn clichés and stereotypes -- and that rewards writers and actors who are willing to depict Black folks through the lens of those stereotypes.

"The relationship unfurls in the nooks, crannies and context of the characters' "real" lives. Ennis marries Alma, with whom he has two daughters. Alma works at the local supermarket and makes the best of things living above the laundromat with a man who doesn't say much. Jack, a rodeo circuit rider, lives in Texas and marries Lureen, a farm equipment dealer's daughter, with whom he has a son. Ennis and Jack lead conventional heterosexual lives, yet they cannot let go of each other. They embark on their precipice of an affair declaring to each other that they're "not queer." The screenplay, expanded from Proulx's short story by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, observes some interesting corners and ripple effects of such a declaration, especially as it affects the wives of men who travel the high country, the low country and the down-low country."

What is somewhat unique about Phillips's review is that it mentions the "down low," however obliquely.  Most other reviews do not.  Given all the discussion--particularly over the past two years--about black men and the down low or "DL," it is curious that this aspect of the film has, for the most part, remained unarticulated. What explains this? Keith Boykin offers an answer. He writes:

"The term 'down low' is commonly used to refer to 'men who have sex with men but do not identify as gay.' If that's the case, these two rugged cowboys are saddled up for the down low. Ennis and Jack are married with children and yet they're secretly sleeping with one another. If that ain't the down low, then what is? If the cowboy boot fits, then wear it. The reason why we don't say they're on the down low is simple -- they're white. When white men engage in this behavior, we just call it what it is and move on. But when black men do it, then we have to pathologize it into something evil called the "down low." Therein lies the double standard.

"It's not the first time we've seen this double standard. Last year when New Jersey Governor James McGreevey announced that he had cheated on his wife with another man, no one ever said the governor was on the down low. Why? Because he is white. If the governor had been black, it would have been an entirely different story."

. . .

Except for the fact that the series of events takes place among cowboys in the 1960s, 70s and 80s, this story is not unusual. There must be thousands of young black men who "experimented" with homosexuality in high school or college and then repressed those feelings for years until they resurfaced again later in life after marriage. When the black men do it, we condemn them for being on the down low. When the white men do it, we create beautiful Hollywood stories about them that win record numbers of Golden Globe nominations.

"At this very moment, I know of half a dozen black films in the works about the harm of the down low in the black community. Black America continues to move toward demonization of homosexuality and bisexuality while white America is being forced to confront it from an entirely different perspective.

"The problem is that the demonization approach is wrong.  . . . If we really want to do something about the down low, we need to do something about the culture of homophobia that encourages these men to be on the down low in the first place. Until then, we're just blowing smoke up our asses."

I invite your thoughts and comments.

(For Keith Boykin's full commentary, see Keithboykin.com, "Go Tell it on the Mountain," December 19, 2005).