Exposure: Another Bomb Black Professor

Let me begin by apologizing for the “dear diary” nature of what you’re about to read. I’m sorry and I promise that it won’t always be this way. I can hear my YouTubing brother yelling at me about consistency now. It’s just that I forgot how much I love college. I got back to school a few days ago and recently had my first day of classes. But bear with me; this actually is about both film and Black people.

Sometime during my first year of college, I saw this film called Sugarcoated Arsenic by two Black UVA professors, Claudrena Harold (“YASSS” personified) and Kevin Jerome Everson (my new, well renown, bomb film professor). This short film is about the Black Studies Movement here on my campus. I highly recommend it. I was so excited to see that there were people on campus making the sort of art that I am interested in making. Furthermore, these people are in a position that gives me the opportunity to learn from them. So, naturally, I wiggled my way into the class. Right about now, I feel like my decision-making and maneuvering skills are on fleek. 

It’s only been one class and I’m already like “Yes. I will be a filmmaker. This is going to happen.” By simply emphasizing the importance of art in society, Professor Everson reminded me that my perspective is valid. Furthermore, he pointed out that my perspective is valuable. No one else can say what I can say. That goes for you too. The thing I like most about his philosophy is the emphasis on the importance of what’s in the machine instead of the machine itself. You can replace a camera, but you can’t replace the glimpses of your mind that you use the camera to capture.  He explained that we are “exposing the world to our ideas.” That’s beautiful. I think we’re about ready for a kumbayah or something. 

Let me tell you, Professor Everson is quirky as a mug. And I like it. He rambles and jokes and muses, while still managing to really teach me things. He would honestly probably offend like forty people that I know, but he’s right up my ally. He says what he thinks and doesn’t apologize for it. His mind is a constantly moving machine.  Just like our fight for freedom can’t stop, neither can the production of art. I really dig what happens when you put those ideas together. That’s me. Art for freedom’s sake. This semester’s got me feeling like it’s all really going to happen. 

He kept saying, “You have to make something.” He figured that sitting and musing about art is less important than actually making it. I think that I agree. My only stipulation is that I think that it’s important to take in the things that others have put out for two reasons. One: inspiration matters. Perspective has to come from somewhere. I’m not advocating copying, I’m just saying that Dr. King read Gandhi before he just started marching down hostile southern streets. Two: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” If I make something, I want someone to see it. I’d like to return the favor. My point is that now, you’ll also be getting a taste of what I make or how I make it. I still want to tell you what inspires and repulses me, but I also want to share how that affects my work. 

I’m telling you, this film class has me so hype right now. Like wow. I’m ready to create and inspire and make moves. Moves and movies. I think that this semester, I will really gain some tools to do that. 

Now, I feel like making waves isn’t just a dream, but a tangible and necessary reality. No longer can I only write about art; I have to continue to make it, as well. You all stand as witnesses to my personal challenge. While I’m here for the next three years, I want to fully immerse myself in all that Black culture and art has to offer. In turn, I hope to use what I learn to pour back into our legacy. This is all starting to sound like an admissions essay, but can I just have this moment? Black people have so much to say and so much to give. Our ideas should be at the forefront of films, too.  As I walk these “grounds” I’m preparing to make something deep and beautiful and spiritual and powerful and rich and intelligent and creative and soulful happen. Y’all ready?

Why Are Black People So Loud in Movies!?!

Scandal, Anderson Cooper 360, Steven Spielberg films, Tyler Perry films (especially Tyler Perry films), Meryl Streep, Denzel Washington, documentaries, sit-coms…It doesn’t matter what it is, if I’m watching it with Black people, someone is always going to be yelling at the screen. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there like “ Stop.Talking. I guarantee that they cannot hear you.” Don’t get me wrong; I promise I’m not that pretentious. But goodnessssss! I’d like to be able to actually hear the movie!

People talking through television shows and movies is one of my biggest pet peeves. When I watch something, especially a narrative, I want to be immersed in the screen as fully as possible. I want to enter the characters’ world. That becomes difficult when people are talking through movies.  Here’s the issue: I’m Black; I can’t escape it. Now we enter into the world of stereotypes: watermelon, athletic superiority, cerebral inferiority, fried chicken, and, you guessed it, being exceptionally loud when we watch movies. We can trace many stereotypes to systems of White supremacy manifesting themselves through the media. However, even though it gets on my nerves, Black verbal participation in film watching may be able to be traced back to something more positive. 

I am an African-American Studies and Drama double major (well, intended major, but let’s not talk details.) So when I got to college, I was immediately attracted to this class titled African-American Theater. Let me tell you, this class was pure fire. One concept that we focused on was the idea of “call-and-response.” In its most basic form, call-and-response is when one person or group of people says or does something and another person or group of people reacts to it. Fairly simple, right? Although this concept seems uncomplicated, it is something that enslaved Africans carried with them to America from the Motherland, deeply engrained in Black diasporic culture. I first became aware of call in response in the church. “Jesus on the mainline…” 10 bucks says you just sang, “…Tell him what you want.” Call-and-response is even a part of hip-hop. “Say hey!” …I rest my case. 

This African influence is also heavily present in Black theater. Because African and Black theater was first presented as ritual (and still should be), call-and-response is a fundamental part of creating the necessary communal experience. Theater is live for a reason. It is a relationship between performer and audience. As an actor, I can tell you that the audience’s energy can shift the entire tone of a performance. I’ve grown to become more aware and appreciative of this relationship in Black theater. My first college theater experience was working on our production of Marcus Gardley’s Every Tongue Confess. In that play, both the playwright and director truly wanted audience members to respond and talk back to the actors. 

I think that this concept of call-and-response applies to film, too. We are finding a way to turn simply watching into a collective experience. I like to think of film as theater’s first cousin on her mama’s side, so that makes sense. We find call-and-response in our music, our worship, our conversation, and our performance. It is actually very fitting that we would seek to find it in cinema. Community is at the center of Black culture. It cannot flourish with people existing in individual bubbles. Perhaps wanting to block all verbal response to television and movies is counterproductive. I’d like to find a way to incorporate call-and-response into my writing. Connecting with people on a subconscious cultural level can be powerful.

Maybe it’s ridiculous for me to expect my brothers and sisters to sit quietly like church mice because our mice come fully equipped with tambourines. Why should I expect our cultural DNA to disappear every time that I press play?  Yes, there are times to screen quietly, but I’m discovering that the times when the background noise is equal to that of the speakers have value, too. Our varied idiosyncrasies make us who we are. Even though some of them can be annoying, if we look hard enough, there are things within them to love. From now on, I’m going to try to put annoyance aside and appreciate the sideline chatter for the synergetic moments that it can create. It's gonna take some prayer, but I'll try...for art's sake...

The Panthers, The Pigs, and The Past (Night Catches Us, 2010)

This. Movie. Is. Bomb. Great soundtrack: check. Beautifully colored cinematography: check. Kerry Washington’s amazing Philly accent: not so much, but we’ll let that one go. Night Catches Us is a well-crafted historical fiction centered on The Black Panthers. The screenplay intertwines an ebony-rich story with whimsical animation, real historical footage, and a stellar cast. I would expect a Panther movie to either defame or glorify the organization. This film does neither. Instead, it makes us recognize that this political party was made of people—people with flaws, successes, dreams, and failures. 

Night Catches Us has the qualities of Panther stories that we have heard as legends. There were moments in the film when I immediately thought about Fred Hampton, Angela Davis, Huey Newton, and so many others. I wondered what laid in their wake as they fought for change. What lays in ours? 

This film is about the past, not just in a typical historical fiction type of way, but in a way that forces us to think of the past’s power. It's filled with compelling and unexpected characters. Writer and director Tanya Hamilton did an excellent job of making me feel connected to each and everyone of them. I wanted them to win because I felt like I was a part of their community. This in conjunction with the intertwining of documentary-type footage reminds us that the past is, in fact, real. It humanizes a group of people that so many have been conditioned to fear. It subtly reminds us that the Black Panthers were not just figures, but people. J. Edgar Hoover bugged the phones of friends and ended the lives of family members. Night Catches Us physically shows us the past without dwelling in it, even though the characters do. It presents 1976 as the present, therefore emphasizing the idea that lives continue even after movements end. 

In an almost August-Wilson-like way, the characters in this film seem to represent more than themselves. Tanya Hamilton makes a point of telling stories that show the diversity of blackness (my kind of girl!). This is evident through rainbow of characters found within this Philadelphia community. 

This community wallows in the past. Marcus explains it best when he says, “You’re all fighting imaginary enemies.” The things that people are battling are no longer physically existent. Still they must grapple with the consequences and rewards of yesteryear on a daily basis. Night Catches Us reminds us that Black Power wasn’t just a phase; it was a movement made up of real people and real ideas that can’t be confined to a period of time. The film reminds us that the people’s lives and visions must continue. 

Let’s take a specific character for example, shall we? I pick Jimmy. He’s probably the best example of a symbolic character in this film. Jimmy spends most of his time picking up old metal—cans, broken car parts, you name it—in order to sell them. That’s his job. His livelihood is based on gathering old things; his life is dependent on the past. Go with me on this. There’s a moment in the film when Jimmy tries to sell his metal pieces to the White man, whom he usually does business with. The White man couldn’t give him what he wanted in exchange for his scraps. So, “from now on [he] only [does] business with the brothas.” Jimmy then tries to sell those scraps to a Black man. Still, Jimmy was left not getting in return what he thought his old metal was worth. This film is arguing that old ideas, whatever they may be, don’t work when you negotiate neither with the oppressor nor with the fellow oppressed. Like the price of metal changes, so does time. Holding on to the past isn’t necessarily the way to get to a bright future. That is a blaring theme in Night Catches Us.

Over the course of the film, we see Jimmy slowly taking on more stereotypically Panther-like qualities. With his first (wrongful) arrest, we see him asserting himself verbally. Later, he follows Black Panther protocol by boldly reminding a brother being arrested of his rights, despite being unwelcome by police. The montage where Jimmy is preparing and practicing to be a “Panther" says it best: It’s as if he is a wondering toddler waling around in his daddy’s shoes. He seems to look and sound the part, but something just isn’t right. You can see it in his eyes. He has everything seen on the outer surface but seems to lack ideas at the core of Pantherhood—inner pride, political intelligence, and hope for the future. Marcus and Patricia, however, do have these things. Jimmy is naive and uncertain, much like the present. 

The look is nothing without the heart. Maybe it’s that time has run out on the way Jimmy’s father’s generation did things, but not necessarily on what they were trying to do. Jimmy ultimately fails. But Marcus, Patricia, and Iris have hope of succeeding. I think that Hamilton is arguing that their most Panther-like qualities are timeless. The best ideas outlive time. However methods can die. Jimmy dies. I’d like to attribute his death to martyrdom, but I think that would be doing a disservice to the larger ideas presented in this film. His death functions as a warning to viewers not to hold on to the past. 

The life and fate of Jimmy’s character also caused me to ask questions that can move our community forward: How do we look back at the past without being stuck in it? Do we let the dream die because the past did not turn out the way we thought it would? Do we stop fighting when we realize that we’re not invincible? 

Although this movie asks us to examine the way we look at the past, I don’t think that it is telling us to forget it. There were six instances of negative and even violent encounters with “the pigs” (as the Panthers called the law enforcement). Police brutality affected the film’s past, present, and future. Need I remind you that that is still an issue today? Not much has changed. The injustice of the law (or lack thereof) still affects our communities in very personal ways. The past speaks to our future, but does not have to define it. This film argues this point artfully. Night Catches Us never really forces a solution on us yet by the end of the movie we know that one exists. It tells the stories of our ancestors with heart and intelligence, while reminding us of the possibility of brighter days **cue “Ooh Child”**. All power to the people, then and now.