Oooh, plot twist!

Deadline.com reports that Spike Lee is now attached to direct the American adaptation of Korean director Chan-wook Park’s awesome, creepy, and demented cult classic. (No word on if Will Smith is still attached to play Dae-su.)

See now, I’m both thrilled and apprehensive (instead of just plain old apprehensive). Spike Lee has one of the best shots of adapting Dae-Su’s character in a really interesting way, and still going with a black lead. And he can create that knot-in-your-stomach, smart crime drama tension I love to feel in the theater. And if Dae-su becomes black in the remake, I’d rather have Spike Lee at the helm than the typical Hollywood director. If he doesn’t, it would be awesome to see Daniel Dae Kim in the role, but with our luck, they’re gonna go with Keanu Reeves. Or Zach Effron. Or Chris Pine. Or maybe Robert Pattinson.

But casting aside, the hurdles are high on this one: the gruesome plot twists would probably freak out US censors, adapting such a complex story is a challenge without altering it, heavy expectations from the fanbase. This may well be a fool’s errand.

Then again, The Departed, which was an aight (though racist) reboot of Infernal Affairs won a bunch of awards. So maybe a fucked up reboot won’t matter unless you know what you’re missing.

Gaps between white experiences and non-white experiences pop up in the strangest places.

Raven-Symoné has a new comedy on ABC Family called State of Georgia. This is her first comedy series where she will be playing an adult role and it’s been interesting watching that transition. I had planned to tune into the premiere, but it moved up in priority when I read the producer, Jennifer Weiner, talking about Raven’s weight loss in USA Today:

Q: Tell us about the show’s star, Raven-Symoné, who plays Georgia.

A: What we were looking for was a larger-than-life, bubbly, exuberant, confident young woman who was convinced of her own worth even when the world couldn’t see it. I really think that’s what we have with Raven. She’s this incredibly natural comedienne.

Q: Is Georgia a classic Jennifer Weiner character?

A: The original intention was for Georgia to be a big, curvy girl, and that would be one of the obstacles she dealt with while pursuing her acting career. She wanted to play the ingénue and the bombshell, and people would want to cast her as the funny best friend. Raven has lost a lot of weight, and that’s been a challenge we’ve been dealing with. But in terms of her sense of humor and outlook on life, Georgia’s going to feel familiar to anyone who loved Canny in Good in Bed or Becky in Little Earthquakes and Addy in Best Friends Forever.

…

Okay. I’m very familiar with Weiner’s work, having read most of it, and I get it – Weiner writes curvy heroines. She is most comfortable writing about larger women trying to make their way in the world. And there have been a great many discussions (like this one from Women and Hollywood) on the debates around Raven-Symoné’s weight loss and how it impacted what they were doing for the show.

But I’m puzzled. Did no one ever point out that black, thin and thick actresses face that same problem in terms of always being cast as the funny best friend? Come on, now, it’s even got a TV Tropes entry. The same jokes wouldn’t fly, but I am sure there are plenty of women who could help the writing team come up with amazing bits about how screwed up the acting world is to women of color. They could call Angela Nissel and Aisha Tyler in for writing assistance, and ask for people like Gabrielle Union and all of the women on this list to provide real life anecdotes for the show.

Or is that just too scary of a topic?

Randomly watching TV, I was shocked to see this ad for The Warrior’s Way:

Wait a minute – that was an Asian male lead. Who has a love interest. That he kisses. And she’s white!

There are a couple different reasons why this is remarkable.

One, in many American made films, the Asian guy is supposed to be the sidekick – even if they happen to be in the lead role. Therefore, no need for a love interest, much less one that reciprocates his feelings.

Two, we have an interracial couple kissing on screen in the promotional marketing material . This should not be a rare sight in 2010. Yet, here we are.

Not sure how I feel about the East meets West plot construction – this could be a really awesome, somewhat subversive way to acknowledge that there were more people in the American West than just outlaw settlers. Or it could play right into the stranger from a far away land cliche. The flying ninjas invasion scene makes me lean toward the latter, unfortunately.

By Arturo R. García and Thea Lim

Arturo: I’ll be the first to admit it: it’s easier to talk about Machete than it is to review it. On one level, this is a “critic-proof” movie, because it was ostensibly made by Robert Rodríguez as a no-brainer successor to Planet Terror, with Danny Trejo taking his archetypal (and stereotypical?) Tough Guy character into leading-man status. And, as a guy who whooped it up along with everybody else when the original faux trailer screened after Planet Terror in theatres, I really wanted to like this flick.

But I didn’t, and was having a hard time talking about it. Enter my illustrious colleague Thea.

Thea: I was all ready to waltz around the digital Racialicious office singing the praises of Machete, when it was brought to my attention that Arturo gave the film two really big thumbs down. So I suggested we have a pop culture critics’ FACEOFF!!! Or rather, ahem, a friendly chat.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Thea: So, I thought Machete was a lot of fun.

Arturo: I thought it was a dull rehash of Planet Terror and Once Upon A Time In Mexico.

Thea: I have seen a bunch of Robert Rodriguez’s movies, but I don’t think I’m as learned in his oeuvre as you.

Arturo: R. Rodriguez seemingly couldn’t decide whether he wanted to go full-on over-the-top or craft an “epic.”

Thea: How do you think that your disappointment with the overall quality of the film connects to the race/gender stuff in the film? I was interested in the question that you posed — let me just directly quote you: “If you put a progressive message in an “intentionally bad” film, do you reduce it to a punchline?”

Arturo: Well, let’s start with this thought I had: if you set out to make an “intentionally bad” movie, you’re basically setting yourself up as an unreliable narrator, no? So, though the film was pushing a progressive message, putting it in awful dialogue all around just undercuts it.

Jessica Alba did an interview saying she hoped the film would start a conversation, and I get that. But nobody I saw the flick with came out talking about, say, Arizona’s immigration problems. Instead they were raving about Trejo doing the Intestinal Swing (which, to be fair, was one of the film’s best moments.)

Thea: Hm, I guess I don’t agree that making an intentionally bad movie sets you up as an unreliable narrator – though I think that’s an interesting question. I think that a film/book can have an unreliable narrator, but in order for that to be so, you have to have a very reliable or competent filmmaker.  To cite Dolly Parton, “it takes a lot of work tolook this cheap.”

My thoughts on Machete in a nutshell - I was really happy to see someone plonking a progressive message in the middle of an absolutely redonculous movie. Because in doing so, Rodriguez bring his message to people who will just go and see the film to have a good time – so that sort of breaks down a lot of the ideological ghettoization that happens when it’s only documentaries that are made about immigration, if you know what I mean. For me, I feel like I go to see so many movies that are fun, but I have to close my eyes and ears to the politics of the film, in order to enjoy them.
So I was delighted to a stupid film that had politics that I didn’t have to totally blank out for the sake of my enjoyment.

The people I saw it with didn’t talk about the nitty-gritty of SB 1070 on our way out of the theatre either. But that actually felt like a bonus: I don’t think that the film exists to try and actually change or speak to the law, it is more like it exits to entertain and cheer up people who are affected by SB 1070 or sickened by it … sort of a cinematic vacation for us.  So my friends and I didn’t talk about Arizona on the way out, we talked about Steven Seagal – which was nice, for a change.

In that way Machete made me think of say, D.E.B.S, another intentionally bad action film, that just happens to be about lesbians. It’s a terrible film but it’s fun, and it feels like a gift that the main love affair just happens to be between two women – so for once viewers don’t have to close their eyes in anticipation of a grossly heteronormative love scene.

Arturo: Is D.E.B.S intentionally bad, though?

Thea: I think so. It may be worse than it intended to be … but it’s definitely campy and seems self aware about that.

Arturo: Ok, campy I get. I felt that Machete’s vacillating between camp and straight-up action took away from that “vacation” feeling you talked about for me. Because, hell, man, at least give me a villain who can deliver a decent speech.

Thea: What was your issue with the senator’s speech?

Arturo: It was just bad. Like, not “MWAHAHA” bad. There was no style to it.

Thea: Did it feel too over the top to you to be seen as a threat, sort of declawing what is a real threat to people’s lives in America, in a way that misrepresents the danger people are facing? Or you just didn’t like it aesthetically?

Arturo: Both. It was like bad madlibs of my Twitter feed.

Thea: Haha. Like if they made an OKCupid graph of “Americans who think undocumented workers should be rounded up and deported”?

Arturo: Right. All they needed was, “I’m a simple guy.”

Thea: Hey! I’m a simple guy! I just want to listen to some Van Halen and deport some people!

Arturo: But back to the speech and the Senator character…

Thea: Right. This is an interesting point you raise … I think that you approached this film with discerning eyes, whereas my eyes were more yippee-guts-i-can’t-wait-to-see-jessica-alba’s-worker-rally-will-she-quote-cesar-chavez.
I think for me it really comes down to audience. I feel like the guts and campiness part of the film were for your regular Robert Rodriguez fans.

The political message was probably for Chican@s, undocumented workers, their allies and their families who just need a break from the bad news.

Arturo: But that’s the thing: I am a regular Rodriguez fan. I can tell you Rodriguez can deliver that message better, if he chooses to.

Thea: Well that is an interesting point.

Arturo: And the “turn your brain off” approach didn’t work for me here.

Thea: Right, well, it’s confusing if you are turning off the movie critic part of your brain, but leaving the revolutionary part on. What I meant to say though, by talking about target audience, is that I don’t think that Rodriguez was trying to win anyone over who hasn’t already been won over either by his films, or by the movements against SB 1070.

Arturo: Which is his right.

Thea: I can see, though, for someone who is both a Rodriguez fan and against SB 1070, you’re in a different spot.

Arturo: I don’t disagree with anything that was said. I just thought he’s championed a particular version of Mexico more skillfully in the past. Hell, Planet Terror had a Latino male as the co-protagonist.

Thea: So if you could pick say, three things you’d liked to have seen different in Machete, what would they be, in terms of the version of Mexico or Mexicans?

Arturo: 1) I’d like Rodriguez to acknowledge that Mexico has indoor plumbing and paved streets.

Thea: Fair enough.

Arturo: 2) Quit giving us at least one character who I want to see die but does not (Enrique Iglesias in Once Upon A Time and the Spy Kid redheaded cholo in Machete)

Thea: Ha! I liked the redheaded cholo! Big ups to the mixed cultural kids!

Arturo: That kid was just bugging the hell out of me. Anyway, #3: It’s not even that much about portrayals of Mexicans here, but I was just disappointed we didn’t get full-on camp or a fully-realized action thriller.

Thea: And I have to wonder how the politics of the film intersect with that.

Arturo: It just wasn’t a very clever film.

Thea: To go back to the senator, I was wondering how much CYAing was going on. I wonder if anxiety about getting into trouble for expressing pro-immigrant, anti-racist ideas made Rodriguez hold back in all departments for this film. And that’s CYA-ing that goes beyond fears of alienating your fan base, who may or may not give two poops about undocumented workers from Mexico and other countries to the south, but also CYAing in terms of not wanting to get hauled into court for inciting the shooting of a senator.

Arturo: Hmm. I see.

Thea: For example, why is the film set in Texas, and not Arizona? And why not use an actual speech from Senator Brewer, for eg, rather than making up this Texas stereotype?

Arturo: I suspect part of that is, it’s RR’s home-court: he’s based in Austin.

Thea: Yes, and that’s why I think it’s funny the way that Texas is represented.  In parts of Texas – and definitely in Houston and Austin – there are large immigrant communities of colour and areas of “progressive” politics.  But the Texas in Machete is your regular old Texas – run by maniacs in cowboy hats with shotguns whose granddaddies fought in the Alamo and who are foaming at the mouth with xenophobic racism.  So that’s not exactly a nuanced or insider view of Texas.

Arturo: And somehow the Univision equivalent has a crazy-big viewership.

Thea: Right, ha.  But I mean, I don’t think necessarily that Rodriguez was really like “oh boy, I’m going to go to treason jail for this.” But I have to wonder how much, in a sense, coming out as a politicized Chican@ in this film, affected the quality of his film.  Do any of his other films have overt Chican@ politics?

Arturo: I think Once Upon A Time comes closest. But that’s decidedly tilted toward the Mexican side of things, of course.

Thea: Right. But I think (and I could be wrong) that there is a sort of “coming out as a Chican@ or as someone with a policial consciousness” aspect to this film, considering that Rodriguez has not been, up to this point, considered a Chican@ filmmaker…he’s just considered a filmmaker.

And that’s also why I LOVED that Jessica Alba was cast in the film, especially as an ICE officer who eventually turns her back on the dominant culture.

Because Alba has also rarely been cast as Chican@ … she has even gone out of her way to get away from that. So to cast the “self-hating” Mexican-American actor who has gone so far as to bleach her hair and wear blue contacts in some of her films, as the Chican@ ICE officer who eventually sees the light: just brilliant. Even if her character and her performance were subpar.

Arturo: I read up on that a bit. What she said most recently is, she wanted to do was to get away from playing the stereotypical Latina roles – the hired help and whatnot. Which makes some sense.

Thea: I think that Zoe Saldana has said the same, but in a way that criticises the typecasting and stereotyping of Dominican Americans, rather than reinforcing it; not so with Jessica Alba.

Arturo: And yet she said she took this particular part specifically because of Rodriguez.

Thea: That makes sense – it almost feels as if they both were like “Fuck it. We’re Chican@. Deal with it.” Of course that could just be my projection…

Arturo: I’m more inclined to get that vibe from RR, based on prior history.

Thea: Not from Alba in this film?

Arturo: Well, here’s another case where the material undercuts her. I mean, here she’s somewhat of an accessory (figuratively and legally) to the Machete character.

Thea: So you mean her coming out as a Chican@ is undercut by the patheticness of the character?

Arturo: I don’t know if this is Alba really reclaiming that part of her heritage – going by prior statements, she never “gave it up,” but didn’t want to play the Hollywood Shuffle with it, either. But for Sartana to give the rally ’round the taco truck speech instead of Luz bugged me.

Thea: If I can’t agree with you that this movie felt half-assed in terms of quality, I can definitely agree that its gender politics were half-assed.  The teeter-toter of feminism: it almost, almost has good gender politics…and then oh no wait. No it doesn’t.

I felt like Luz got the shaft. I was disappointed that that character didn’t get a proper sendoff – there is no closure for her. It seemed unfortunate (and not quite a coincidence) that the only major character who doesn’t get a proper point on their story, is the strong woman of colour.

But I just felt like jumping up and down and clapping when Alba screams WE DIDN’T CROSS THE BORDER THE BORDER CROSSED US.  It was like seeing all the people of colour I know who tell me that racism doesn’t exist suddenly lead a civil rights march on the parliament buildings or something  (included in this group is my dad, and my younger self). I was just thrilled by that moment – it wouldn’t have been the same if Luz did it. Though I still think Luz shoulda gotten some speech in there somewhere. Or at least a goodbye.

Arturo: Or at least another eyeball.

Thea: Haha! A few friends were miffed that Machete chooses Sartana and not Luz. But I was like, c’mon, do you think Machete would even dare suggest that Luz “ride with him”?

Arturo: Ok, can I just say this right now? Alba and M. Rodriguez had 10 times the chemistry that Trejo had with either of them.

Thea: True!

Arturo: And I’m not even saying that in the “ooh girls kissing” way.

Thea: Haha. Point taken.

Arturo: That scene at the truck was a total Meet-Cute.

Thea: What is a meet-cute? I’m going to have to Urban Dictionary this.

Arturo: Here you go.

Thea: Aha! I learn so much from you, Art. Urgh … but I kinda felt like the chemistry there was an invention of Rodriguez, to create a kind of “girls kissing” scene for his hetero male viewers. Sorry to say. And that if they had gotten together, that’s what it would’ve been: very male gaze-y.

Arturo: Maybe, but in this case I credit the two actors for making it believable even beyond that level. I honestly thought those two people were vibing.

Thea: I’ll give you that.

Arturo: I would’ve been happy without the kiss, even. Just seeing Sartana teach Luz how to load all of her files into a spreadsheet would’ve been good.

Thea: YES! That would’ve been a way better ending than Machete and Sartana riding off together in straddle pose. As much as I liked the total ridiculousness of that final scene.

Arturo: Don’t forget her Sexy Cop outfit. Talk about Male Gaze.

Thea: Mmhm. Let’s not even bother discussing Steven Seagal’s Asian fetish…talk about unnecessary. But as for Alba’s outfit, well, baby steps. We can’t expect that much of her all at once…

Arturo: See, that’s not on her, though. Besides, two more steps in those heels and she would’ve snapped an ankle.

Thea: I do have to say, as a Racializen, I was disappointed that other immigrant communities of colour didn’t get to join in on that final run on the Minutemen compound. I also would’ve liked to have seen more of the crowd of workers … the camera doesn’t really show them in all their glory. You sort of just get a flash of feather dusters being waved and that’s it.

I would’ve loved it if somehow Sri Lankan kitchen workers got invited to the raid, and then some of the Filipino nannies, and maybe even some business folk of colour keeping their heads down and pretend not to know anything about immigration…until they snap and start throwing calculators and filing cabinets at the Minutemen. I would’ve liked that very much indeed.

Arturo: Any closing remarks?

Thea:  No, I’m happy to end with the image of Chinese American businesswomen throwing filing cabinets.

Arturo: I accept your concession.

Thea: Ha! It was a pleasure agreeing to disagree with you.

Arturo: THUNDERDOMELICIOUS

There’s been a lot of buzz amongst friends and colleagues about the film Reel Injun. The title itself says a lot. “Reel” —a reel of film—and “Injun”—a derogatory word for Indian—but the title also points to what is missing from film and from children’s and young adult literature: real Indians.

Saying the phrase, “real Indians”, makes me cringe. First, it is the year 2010, and we—people who are American Indian—encounter people who think we were all wiped out by enemy tribes, disease, or war.  Or, people who think that in order to be “real Indians” we have to live our lives the same ways our ancestors did. Course, they don’t expect their own identities and lives to look like those of their own ancestors… In principle, we are a lot like anyone else. We have ways of thinking about the world and ways of being in that world (spiritually and materially) that were–and are—handed down from one generation to the next. Though we wear jeans and athletic shoes (or business suits and dress shoes), we also maintain clothing we sometimes wear for spiritual and religious purposes. Just like any cultural group, anywhere.

Second reason “real Indians” makes me cringe is the word “Indians”. We use it. In fact, I use it in the title of this blog. But I know it references all the indigenous nations and tribes and bands and communities and pueblos in the United States, all with unique ways of doing things.

That said, I want to talk more specifically about the trailer.

Watch Clint Eastwood say he wanted real Indians but couldn’t find one. I wonder where he looked?

Watch Cheyenne/Arapaho filmmaker Chris Eyre say it is funny to watch white people playing Native roles. The trailer shows a series of them: Anthony Quinn, Burt Lancaster, Charles Bronson, Daniel Day Lewis, Chuck Connors, Burt Reynolds, Boris Karloff, Sylvester Stallone, and, William Shatner…  All of them playing tough, savage, or tragic Indians. Watching them do it, as someone who is Native, can be hilarious, but only if you know more about who we are.

Filmmaker Jim Marmusch Jarmusch notes that John Wayne signals a moral standard of what it means to be American. His remark is followed by a clip from one of John Wayne’s movies, where he is shown kicking someone. That clip may be from The Searchers, a film hailed by many as a critique of racism.

Then there’s a critique of Dances With Wolves….

Though I’ve not had the opportunity to see the film, I love what I see in the trailer, and I think anyone who works with children’s literature ought to see it! I think it holds great promise for helping critique portrayals of American Indians in the books we give to children.

Visit the website for Reel Injun and find out when and where you can see it.

My brother is a screenwriter in LA.  Has a couple movies to his credit, and he just got what could be his “big break” as he sits down to write – what should be – a “major summer blockbuster” type movie.  This is the kind of movie that will likely get a whole lot of hype, splash his name all over the place, and – hopefully – turn into a bunch of work (and cash).  And – being on the “inside” as I am – I just got a copy of his first draft.

So I’m reading his script, trying to just let myself jump in, imagine it as a film; looking for highlights and lowlights to give him some feedback for his next re-write prior to turning it in to the producers and all that kind of thing . . . and, well . . . something struck me – right off the bat – that felt a little odd . . .

As far as details go – I’m not really going to give you more than that – because this is my brother, it’s his original work, and I’m not trying to throw him under the bus or get him in trouble with his producers or future employers – so no other identifying information will go out there.  But let’s just say the “odd” ness involved race.  Specifically, Asian people.  Which just so happens to be our race.

It was nothing major – certainly not offensive, really – but it was a form of following the same Hollywood-esque patterns of who gets to “count” – and who doesn’t.  You can probably guess whether or not the Asian people “counted” or not.

Now, did this happen because my brother is “one of them?”  Does he hate Asian people or want to break them down?  Hell no.  Of course not.  In fact, he has very intentionally re-incorporated some Asian culture into this particular script – something which I doubt a white writer (or other non-Asian writer, for that matter) would have done.   One of his favorite original story ideas that he really pushed back in the day involved prominent Asian characters (main characters, heroes, even).

Except, well . . .  that story about Asian people?  Rejected.  The people of color that he’s introduced into his stories?  Usually white-washed in later drafts due to the producers’ demands.  Or maybe that three-dimensional character he wrote up?  Knocked flat before shooting – again, by the producers.

Because Hollywood works like this:

There are a bunch of producers.  They’re the ones with the money and the pull and clout to get full movies made and put into the national theaters.  As a result, they think they know something about how movies are made.  Which, they do.

Unfortunately, these producers also tend to think they know something about “the American people” and “what they want to see” or “what they can understand.”  Which they absolutely do not.  They think that – because they have made one blockbuster, popular movie – that it indicates what “people want to see.”  Of course, when the only options are all pretty much the same, you don’t need my science background and/or a knowledge of variables to realize that doesn’t really mean anything.

But – as a result of this false notion of “what Americans want,” these producers continue to pump out the racist, sexist, classist, bigoted Hollywood “blockbusters” that we all know and love today.  Because that’s “what Americans want.”

And, of course, the screenwriters and low-level directors, actors, etc. can’t do much about it.  Because money’s involved, and it’s the producers who have the money.  I wish I could get more specific, but I can’t believe all the stories I’ve heard about the ridiculous cuts and edits producers have made to my brother’s – and other writers’ – scripts due to this faulty belief about “what Americans understand.” (*1)

So what is the end-result of so many, repeated instances of ridiculously idiotic producers changing every intelligent, thoughtful aspect of my brother’s (and other writers’) scripts?  He starts anticipating their ignorance and just keeping it out of the original.  The reasons are obvious – it hurts too much to constantly have his creative work trashed by people that have no appreciation for creative thought, or challenging convention, or flipping stereotypes; so my brother saves himself some of the pain.  (*2)  He lets go a little bit.  The even sadder part is – when my brother tries to sell original scripts that are too “different” . . . he simply doesn’t sell them.  And he can’t really support a family on thought-provoking stories on paper alone.

Now, does he compromise his own morals to write the films he does?  No.  Never.  But he does end up having to “dumb-up” his scripts for the sake of the imaginary, “low-brow” American public.  And he does end up with white protagonists instead of the folks of color that he’d rather have.  (*3)

On a larger level – what does this mean?  Am I just trying to say that we shouldn’t blame screenwriters for the crappy state of Hollywood movies?  That it’s just the producers’ fault that the Hollywood media machine is a major reason stereotypes remain in place?  A little bit.

But it’s bigger than that.  Because we – people, in general – tend to gauge the prominent attitudes of our nation through our media.  When folks are trying to figure out what the majority of “Americans” believe, or like to see, we turn to popular media as indicators.   Makes sense, right?

Except it actually doesn’t.  Because the decks are stacked against us, as popular consumers of media.  Our options – in terms of large-scale media – are extremely limited, and the variety is negligible.  (*4)  Therefore, what “we” end up choosing is more a reflection of what’s being put out, as opposed to our actual tastes and beliefs.

For example:  say I go to the grocery store.  I want some fruit.  At the store, there are some apples, bananas, strawberries, and oranges.  I really want passion fruit.  But there is no passion fruit.  Somebody higher up decided that passion fruit wasn’t a big seller, so they don’t waste their time, space, or money.

So I end up buying an orange.  Then somebody else looks at that and says, “people like that guy really like oranges.”  They can say it’s a “hard” statistic because it’s flat data . . .  but I wanted a passion fruit.  And, maybe – if people got more exposure to passion fruits, were able to try them out because they were all over the place, passion fruit would become a big seller.  In fact, if they marketed it right, passion fruit would become a big seller.  But they’ve elected to market oranges, instead.  And so guys like me buy oranges.

Our pop media culture is the same: a ridiculous minority (a fraction of a fraction of a percent) of people are in charge of deciding what “we want to see,” and they provide for that. The problem is that the majority of these guys are ignorant fools and are completely out of touch with real people.  But, because they have the power of money and marketing – they can create the results they need to “prove” themselves right.  Again and again.

So are the “American people” really as ignorant and prone to prejudice as we all tend to think, based on what we see on a large scale?  Or is it just that the tiny minority at the top creates this ignorance and prejudice as part of this sick cycle of miscommunication?

And I’m not saying that Hollywood producers are evil.  I’m sure many of them have decent intentions and really believe that they’re right on this one.  Many of them are probably thinking – “I wish I could make an intelligent, thought-provoking movie that challenges the status quo – just once – but ‘the American people’ would never go see it . . . “  I bet that happens all the time.

But when money and power and the public are involved?  The right thing and what people really want is seldom achieved.   It’s all this strange, twisted feedback loop that reinforces all these beliefs that aren’t true and aren’t what most of us even really want – while convincing us that “everybody else” really wants it. (*5)

So what can we do about it?  It starts with just acknowledging that what is out there isn’t what we actually want.  It continues, though, with challenging the belief that it is what a majority of other people really do want.  With understanding that we’re not the only, special, open-minded ones looking for more – that there are a lot more people like that out in the world, and they don’t necessarily look or talk or dress or vote like we do.  But they are out there.  And so are we.  And if we can come together and find a way to deliver that message?  Feedback loop interrupted.

Of course, I do not yet have a (full) concept of how we bring it all together to fight off the weight of exposure, money, and influence that those faulty producers have, but I’m working on it.

Any ideas?

(*1) Outside of the usual, “obvious” stereotype-based cuts we’d all expect, here are a couple quick-hitters to demonstrate just how ridiculous these guys (because they’re 90% male) are:

1) Action movie.  Original concept: Good guy battling it out with somewhat-stronger badguy.  Badguy is winning.  Good guy realizes that he’s not going to survive this fight and that – if badguy gets out of this alive, goodguy’s buddies are in big trouble.  So he finds a way to sacrifice himself to take out the badguy.  Producer edit:  “The film-going public wouldn’t understand why the goodguy would do that, they don’t want to see it.”  So, in the actual film, the goodguy just kills the badguy and gets his way, no notions of sacrifice for greater good intact.

2) Psychological thriller.  Original concept: Can’t say much without tipping off what the movie was, but the whole movie revolves around mistakes made by primary protagonist and how that hurts those around him.  Final lesson which brings it all home and ties the whole plot together involves him losing a loved one because of the main character’s neglect.  This loss causes him to finally change.  Producer edit: “That’s too sad.  People don’t want to see that.”  In spite of all the mistakes and the inevitable lesson coming at the end, main character saves loved one with little to no difficulty, all smiles and “everything’s better” at the end.  Which just so happens to defeat the purpose of the entire rest of the movie (and make no contextual sense, either).

(*2) And I  realize that he “doesn’t have to” do the job he’s doing – but that’s not really the point.  Although this is in the context of my individual brother, the same thing happens to every other screenwriter, whoever they are.  Somebody‘s going to write these things, and this is going to happen – every time – to whichever “somebody” that is.

(*3)  Of course, he seldom actually describes his characters as “white,” but we all know what’s coming when he writes in no specific racial or cultural description for somebody in his scripts.

(*4)  And yes – I understand the presence of “alternative media,” but let’s be realistic in terms of the reach and scope of said alternatives.  When money, marketing, and exposure is pumped into certain media, we’re just not going to be able to resist it or compete, on a large scale.

(*5) It’s how our government works, as well – but that’s for another day.

(*6) I was going to throw up a photo of John Cho to try to draw more readers, but I – luckily – decided against that particular form of exploitation . . .

[Maybe there are spoilers in this review. I don’t think so. Frankly, I think there is nothing I could possibly do to make the shitfest that is Sex and the City 2 worse.]

Allow me to save you $8. Here is the plot of Sex and the City 2: Four privileged white women take a break from relentlessly moaning about their privileged lives to go on an Orientalist fantasy excursion to Abu Dhabi, where they are each assigned a brown servant to wait on them as they maraud through the country, dressed like assholes, exoticizing people, mocking culture, flouting religious custom, rubbing yams on their bodies and, on occasion, because they are our heroines, “saving” the natives with their American liberation and largess.

SATC was always only about a certain type of woman, despite media attempts to make Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte into everywomen. The series presented a fictionalized view of white, wealthy, female Manhattanites. But the friendships between the protagonists felt universal. And as cartoonish as the individual characters could be, I saw pieces of them in the women around me, if not in myself. When the show first debuted, I was single in the city myself:

When “Sex” debuted in 1998, I was single and 20-something in a big city and it was fun to watch single, carefree women, who lived in a bigger city with bigger apartments, cooler jobs, more money, better shoes and more sex with hotter guys. It was fun fantasy. Read more…

I got older. And so have the characters in SATC, but it occurs to me that the franchise’s male creators aren’t quite sure what to do with women over 40. And so they have taken four flawed but generally likable women and made them repugnant.

Two of the franchise’s characters seem emotionally stunted: Charlotte’s chirpy childishness—always a little icky—seems gross coming from a twice-married woman with two children. Carrie’s self-centered flakiness and drama-whoring is exhausting. Samantha and Miranda are unrecognizable—Sam having gone from an independent woman in charge of her sexuality to a desperate caricature fighting to hold on to her youth. (Note: Chris Noth, who plays Mr. Big, is two years older than Kim Cattrall, who plays Samantha. Interesting that Samantha is portrayed as fading, while Big still gets to be…well…Mr. Big) Miranda quits her job because the new partner at the firm is a sexist jerk. No fight. She simply gives up, which seems completely out of character.

Meanwhile, as the main characters go from iconic to pitiable, there exists a faux girl power thread running through the film. The protagonists even, inexplicably, sing “I Am Woman” in an Abu Dhabi karaoke club. SATC was never as feminist as it was made out to be. It sure as hell wouldn’t pass the Bechdel Test. But now it seems as un-empowering and pandering as a those pink “girl” computers by Dell.

Privilege on parade

The action in SATC 2 is more eye-roll inducing than relateable.

Charlotte, a full-time mom with a full-time, live-in nanny, snaps when her older daughter gets finger paint on the vintage couture skirt Charlotte is wearing while making cupcakes in her deluxe kitchen. Later, she and Miranda patronizingly offer a toast “to them,” mothers who don’t have help, that is.

Now that she has snagged her Mr. Big and is settled into a two-year marriage, Carrie, as ever, seems to want something else. She grumbles that the couple stayed in for dinner “two nights last week.” She kvetches when Big gets her a flat-screen TV for their anniversary, demanding diamonds instead. (Note to my husband, if he should read this: Our anniversary is next month, and, unlike Carrie, I would not give the side-eye to a flat screen.) She gussies up and goes out for dinner with her ex-fiancee. She escapes to her old apartment for two days, then pouts when Big suggests that maybe a weekly break is what their marriage needs. She is petulant and childish, then regretful and teary.

When Samantha, who is fighting off aging with pills by the bagful, drops her panties in her glass-walled office to rub some elixir on her vagina (Yeah, you read that right.), the movie viewer doesn’t relate to the difficulties of female aging, but rather feels sorry for her female assistant who has to work with her arrogant and clueless boss’ lady bits in her face.

Gays and brown people and Muslims…oh my!

The women of SATC spend very little time in their whitewashed New York City during this film. But they are there long enough to attend the wedding of Stanford and Anthony, friends of Carrie and Charlotte respectively, who have until this film hated each other passionately. The “girls” treat the marriage like the fortunate pairing of two accessories. “My best gay friend is marrying her best gay friend!” Charlotte pipes to a saleswoman, sliding the invitation to the GAY WEDDING toward her as proof. It feels incredibly othering. I wonder if the guests at my wedding favored the staff at Marshall Fields with stories about their soon-to-be-betrothed “best black friends.” BLACK WEDDING…Whoooo!

But it’s when the fearsome foursome arrive in the Middle East when privilege, racism and ignorance meet in an unholy trifecta. Here is what we learn: All you need to know about Arab countries, you have already learned in “Aladdin.” If you have a Jewish married name, do not use it on a trip to Abu Dhabi. In an Arab country, be sure to wear expensive clothing reminiscent of the aforementioned cartoon. Two words—gold harem pants. Arab men are either frightening crazy-eyed religious fundamentalists or hot manservants. By the way, it is not at all creepy to accept the services of said hot, brown manservants. Oh, and if one such manservant is gay…Jackpot! Two new accessories for the price of one! Refer to him as Paula Abdul. No woman ever follows the tenets of Islam by choice. All women who wear abaya or niqab are oppressed and secretly want to be white, wealthy, American women who wear revealing couture. Arab women who are not oppressed may be belly dancers in Western-styled nightclubs. It is feminist to travel to Muslim countries and expose yourself, simulate fellatio on a hookah, grab a man’s penis in a restaurant and possibly have sex on a public beach. If you are trying to communicate in an Arab country and cannot find the right words, saying “lalalalalala” will get your point across. It is always good to award your magical brown person with material gifts in exchange for their mystical wisdom, because they are, obviously “less fortunate.” (Last film, Carrie gives poor, black Jennifer Hudson’s character an expensive purse for her services. In this film, she leaves her poor Indian servant money to fly home to see his wife. People of color, on the rare occasion they appear in SATC, are never equals to the main characters.)

The movie is plain bad

Now, I am sure there are those who will say that I am thinking too deeply about a movie that is meant to be a bit of fluff. For you, I will share that SATC’s problems are not all about the portrayal of women, privilege, race or religion. Before any of those things pricked my nerves, I was already sighing at the films stilted dialogue, awkward group dynamic, hackneyed situations and corny jokes that beg for a sitcom laugh track. And then there was the spectacle of seeing Liza Minelli performing “Single Ladies.” Yes, Liza with a “z” sings Beyonce with a “B.”

Need I say more?

Is it a new trend in trailers to highlight comic genius and audacity, by showing just a little bit of racism? First we had the Up in the Air trailer, and now this:

From Paris With Love stars John Travolta (apparently in a reprise of his Face/Off role, plus a keffiyeh) as Charlie Wax, and the adorable little fellow from Bend it Like Beckham as his sidekick. Midway through the trailer, our two leads find themselves in a classic Chinatown fight scene. I blanch at the sight of Charlie Wax using the East Asian waiter’s “oriental” uniform to choke him, and some other shots of things emblazoned with dragons and a Ming vase…

But it’s nothing to write about. That bad feeling in the pit of my stomach is just your regular, knee-jerk (and hey, maybe not-so-justifiable) response to seeing one of my own get pulped by a member of the dominant culture.

And then my most paranoid suspicions are confirmed at 1:05, when Wax’s sidekick asks him in the middle of the Chinatown fight scene

How many more of them do you think there are?

referring to the malevolent employees of the Chinese restaurant.

Wax shrugs, there’s a cut to a women in a cheongsam, and then Wax says

My sense is…about a billion?

Classy.

My friends at Fantastic Fangirls turned me on to the Chromatic Comics meme that went around LiveJournal, Dreamwidth and similar blog sites. Simply put: a number of bloggers re-cast various fandoms with all-POC casts. Below are a few notable examples with links attached.

From Bossymarmalade’s Chromatic Marvel, you saw Vanessa Williams as Emma Frost up top. Add to that:

Diego Luna as Gambit

John Cho as Multiple Man

From Entwasian’s Chromatic Buffy:

Percy Daggs III as Xander Harris

Takeshi Kaneshiro as Angel

Trascendenza tackled both the new Star Trek and DC Comics:

Wanda Sykes as Leonard McCoy

and I’ve been calling for this for awhile now: Gina Torres as Wonder Woman

And a hearty shout-out to FF’s Sigrid for this:

So, just to review, a handful of geeks with access to IMDb have come up with non-white casts for at least three different Marvel Universe movie franchises, plus some DC, Buffy, and Star Trek. The next time someone says that people of color aren’t cast in geek franchises because there aren’t enough qualified actors for the roles, feel free to link them to any of these.

Couldn’t have said it any better myself.

Also see:

* Handyhunter’s Chromatic DC/Marvel (NOTE: male swimsuit pic inside)
* Nextian’s Chromatic Lucifer
* Livia’s Chromatic Marvel
* St Aurafina’s take on Michelle Rodriguez as Wolverine

If you’re having trouble trying to figure out what’s wrong with this newly revealed poster for Disney’s upcoming film, “Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time,” it may help if I pointed out that the title character is played by Jake Gyllenhaal. In other words, the prince of Persia is not played by a Persian/Iranian. Big surprise, huh?

Why is this a big deal? Well, considering that negative perceptions of Middle-Easterners and/or Muslims have increased since 9/11 (and haven’t gotten better according to statistics and civil rights incidents reported by CAIR), a relatively anticipated film like “Prince of Persia” would seem like the perfect opportunity to help break stereotypes and misconceptions about Middle-Easterners. The film is based on a very popular video game of the same title, which allows you to play the role of a Persian prince who has to save his kingdom (or world) from a time-altered reality. I remember playing the game when it was released in 2003 and even though it’s filled with Orientalist stereotypes, I always felt the story and character depictions could be tweaked into a mainstream film with serious potential (and by that, I mean a film with an actual story, real character development, and appreciation for the culture it intends to represent).

Unfortunately, Jake Gyllenhaal isn’t the only White actor playing a Middle-Eastern character. Gemma Arterton, who plays Tamina, the film’s version of Farah, an Indian character from the video game, is also White. Ben Kingsley is also cast as a Persian character, and while he is of half-Indian descent, many Iranians recall how poorly he played an Iranian father in “House of Sand and Fog.” The best part (sarcasm) is that Alfred Molina will play a Persian again after his abusive and oppressive Iranian husband role in the 1991 propaganda film, “Not Without My Daughter”! As a user on IMDB commented: “Tamina = Indian / Gemma Arterton= White; What the hell is going on?”

Yeah, so what is going on? It’s not like Iranian actors and actresses are non-existent. A simple explanation may come from the fact that the film is produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, the Hollywood producer of “Pirates of the Caribbean” and other successful mega-hit blockbusters. It seems like he wanted to play it “safe” since casting real Persians/Iranians would supposedly jeopardize the film’s box office success. In other words, Bruckheimer is more concerned about raking in the dough than conveying important messages about a community that he’s representing (read: exploiting) in his latest B-movie.

It’s important to note that this has happened before. Remember the animated film, “Sinbad and the Seven Seas” released by Dreamworks in 2003? The legend of Sinbad, an Arab sailor, is a classic Arabian Nights tale which the animated film distanced itself from in the most direct way possible. In his article, “Why Hollywood Drew a Veil Over Sinbad’s Arab Roots,” Sean Clarke writes:

…[I]n this version, Sinbad is from Syracuse (in Sicily, as opposed to New York State). The love of his life, Marina, is a noblewoman of Thebes. His estranged best friend is Proteus, the son of King Daimas, and his most dangerous enemy is Eris, the goddess of chaos. Every Arab reference has been removed, and replaced with something vaguely Greek.

Jack G. Shaheen, the author of “Reel Bad Arabs,” added:

This was an ideal opportunity to shatter some stereotypes about Arab and Muslim villains. When I spoke to Jeffrey Katzenberg – a visionary producer – I asked him to include some reference to Arabs or Arab culture. He didn’t seem surprised that I mentioned it, which presumably means that it was discussed early on in the development of the film.

I think maybe they decided to play it safe, not to ruffle any feathers by having neither Arab heroes nor Arab villains. Basically they’re out to make as much money as possible, and I think they were worried that if they took a risk on an Arab hero they might have suffered at the box office…”

The same argument can be made about Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ,” where a Middle-Eastern man, Jesus (peace be upon him), was played by a White American actor, Jim Caviezel. As William Rivers Pitt wrote in his article, “‘The Passion’ of the Americans,” putting a “white Jesus Christ to the cross on film will generate a far more emotional response from the American viewing public than the crucifixion of a savior who actually looks like he is from the Middle East.” Similarly, it seems that Hollywood filmmakers don’t believe an American audience can connect with “Prince of Persia” if the main character, God forbid, was actually played by an Iranian/Persian actor!

There isn’t any doubt in my mind that concerns were raised about “Prince of Persia” among many Hollywood producers since Iran is (wrongly) labeled an “existential” and “nuclear threat” to Israel. As with the Sinbad animated film, it seems that authentic Persian history, facts, and roots are going to be ignored in favor of Hollywood’s own Orientalized and exocitized version of the Middle-East — one in which brown people are played by White actors. It’s an extremely offensive and insulting modern form of Blackface which says only White people can play central Middle-Eastern characters.

Hollywood’s ethnocentrism shines shamelessly again.

For perspective’s sake, let me start with a confession: Tropic Thunder made me laugh aloud several times, even after the misgivings I had about Kirk Lazarus. The Alpa Chino twist in the village was brilliant, even if the villagers were written like something out of an Oliver Stone wet dream. And I regularly laugh as much as I grimace at South Park and Family Guy, neither of which is exactly friendly to … well, anybody. So I’m not opposed to “lowbrow” humor.

What I cannot abide is brainless humor. And so, when I tell you that The Hangover is celluloid excrement, I don’t say it lightly. I refuse to believe that it’s “just me.” But I’m telling you, R readers: this isn’t a comedy, or even a film. I’m now halfway convinced it’s proof those cheeky Hulu “alien plot” commercials are really taunting messages of truth from our secret alien overlords. Sure, you might say, “just turn your brain off, it’s a movie,” but don’t you need a working brain to enjoy any movie?

SPOILERS AHOY!

Ostensibly a Las Vegas travel ad masquerading as a bro-mantic comedy, the root of the problem is one common to a lot of modern comedies: we’re dealing not with characters, but anthropomorphic third-rate comedic tropes – Phil the Player (Bradley Cooper), Alan the Weirdo (Zack Galifanakis) and Stuart the Wuss (Ed Helms). Coding them as such is believable when you start a film, but there’s barely a hint of personal development, let alone the “growing up” moments that usually permeate these types of films.

What makes Hangover different, I suppose, is that Doug, the groom-to-be and Sensible Guy (Justin Bartha) doubles as the Macguffin, as his disappearance spurs the remaining trio to retrace their steps around town. Along the way, they’re seemingly beset upon by “wacky” characters of various stripes – specifically, different POCs.

There’s the effeminate Asian gangster (Ken Jeong) and his aggro henchmen; the incompetent POC Officer Garden (Cleo King, playing second banana to The Daily Show’s Rob Riggle); and, of course, Mike Tyson, here playing a Dr. Evil-fied caricature of himself. Even the non-aggressive POC characters, Eddie the chapel owner (Brian Callen, who’s of Italian and Irish descent but who’s character is vaguely coded as being Not From Around Here) and The Other Doug (Mike Epps) don’t amount to anything. I swear, when Epps’ character said, “Dere you go with dat word again” – and I tell you that he said dere instead of “there” – I cringed so hard my spine must have cracked. Eddie, who tries to defend the boys against the gangsters, gets shot and is literally left behind, never to be seen again. How could we not root for these guys, right?

As is also typical in this new school of comedy, women don’t fare any better. Besides the villains in Vegas, we meet Doug’s fiancee Tracy (Sasha Barrese) and Stuart’s girlfriend Melissa (Rachael Harris), both generic hen-peckers. The former almost chews Doug out at the altar before he grovels for forgiveness, and Harris’ character isn’t allowed even one bit of humanity; she goes from Zero to Shrew instantaneously. The one woman who means well, Heather Graham’s escort/stripper with a heart of gold – wow, no lazy fetishization there, right? — is, along with Eddie, the only other person in town who isn’t trying to screw the boys over. But even Jade comes out a loser in the end; come on, does anybody really believe Stuart is going to go see her again? He barely even breaks up with Harris’ character in a wet blanket of a “comeuppance” scene.

The only POCs who seem to do well are the ones on the soundtrack – at least, in the first act of the film, when tracks by Usher, Kanye West and T.I are used to show us how “cool” the whole scene is before the evening degenerates. The film’s denouement, at the wedding, gives us a white singer “ironically” ripping through “Candy Shop” and “Fame” in what, intentionally or not, comes off like a frat-boy Sexual Chocolate ripoff. Memo to Dan Finnerty: You’re not the Eddie Murphy of 2008, pal, let alone 1988.

But the worst offense are the final three shots before the credits fill the screen. As the film concludes, we get to see pictures of what really went down during the night in question. These three doofs shown cavorting with POC strippers is one thing. The image of Stuart punching Wayne Newton might have made for part of a genuinely funny scene. But the final three shots, depicting Alan getting oral sex from an elderly woman of color, went beyond “edgy” and otherwise lazy filmmaking into something genuinely sickening. And the people around me in the theater were laughing! I wanted to stand up in the theater and yell TELL ME WHY YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY! Was it funny because she was old? Because Alan is “off”? Is this what “turning my brain off” would allow me to enjoy?

So this isn’t like I think Hangover director Todd Phillips’ other noted work, Old School, was the tops of hilarity. But even in that movie, the characters possessed humanity – a quality none of the principals here seem to posess. Also, consider Friday, another comedy that became a hit by featuring “regular guys.” Not only would Craig, Ice Cube’s character, not have wanted to perpetrate an image like Alan’s, but do you think people would have dismissed it as “mindless humor” if, as the film’s co-writer, Cube had written him to?

The audience laughing around me at those final shots left me with a scary thought: that this really could be America’s #1 Comedy. It’s little wonder Sacha Baron Cohen is able to do what he does so easily. Maybe we’ve had it wrong all along – Borat and the upcoming Bruno aren’t comedies at all – they’re horror movies, holding up the mirror to our new idea of funny. And we can’t even see the cracks, because we’re too busy being “entertained.” Turn your brain off at your peril.

We should note that the latter project has no shooting date–and the Weekly Ketchup writers slyly suggest that, perhaps, this is because there’s already a black WWII flick in the works—a Tuskegee Airmen project, currently filming in Europe.

Here’s the thing: we love heralding Black accomplishments as much as the next guy–and far be it from us to stand in the way of Our Own Stories Being Told. But aren’t most of these films rather indistinguishable from one another? If you’ve seen Remember the Titans, you’ve seen Glory Road. If you’ve seen Ray, you seen Cadillac Records (or parts of it, anyway). If you’ve seen The Rosa Parks story, you’ve seen Boycott. If you’ve seen Ali, you’ve seen… Will Smith in one too many of these vanity projects.***

It isn’t that we don’t endorse Black films being greenlighted; we do. It isn’t that we don’t love our history; we do. It’s that biopics, as a genre, are largely rote oversimplifications of incredibly complex lives. And no matter how nuanced an actor’s performance (or, as in the case of Denzel as Melvin Tolson, how phoned in), the formulaic storytelling impedes any real understanding of the person’s struggles and, more importantly, the accomplishment(s) that warranted a film in the first place. They all sort of bleed together untill you’re like, “You remember that flick where Cuba Gooding’s in the submarine and he’s a cook who manned a gatling gun?”

The best way to know your history is to research it for yourself. All the swelling music and single-teared male stars in the world aren’t going to provide you comprehensive—or even accurate—knowledge of actual events. So these “First Black ___ to Do _____” biopics work best when you go into them with your facts about the film’s subject straight. That way, you’re just watching for entertainment value and voluntary emotional manipulation.

All that said, we have to admit, we’re more than a little bit amped about Josh Brolin’s genius plan to both produce and star in a John Brown biopic. You can never have enough films about bloody, if ill-fated slave revolts.

I know I’ve previously mentioned the live-action Blood: The Last Vampire adaptation before, but I’ve neglected to mention the trailer, which has been making the rounds for a while. The movie, based on Hiroyuki Kitakubo 2000 cult hit anime of the same name, marks South Korean actress Jeon Ji-Hyun’s English-language debut.

Jeon, who has apparently changed her name to Gianna Jun for the leap over the Hollywood, stars as Saya, a half-human, half-vampire samurai who is part of a covert government agency that hunts and destroys demons. In post-WWII Japan, she is inserted in an American military school to discover which one of her classmates is a demon in disguise.

Yay, for demon-hunting half-vampires. While I was a fan of the original animated movie, and enjoy vampire asskicking as much as the next guy, I am skeptical about whether this can stand out amongst the Buffy/Blade/Underworld narratives out there. And can Ms. Jun prove her chops as an English-speaking star? I guess we’re going to find out. The movie is set to open in theaters sometime this summer.

I haven’t been a very good cinephile lately. And by “not very good” I mean I haven’t attended any films in this year’s Atlanta Film Festival. In addition to being very busy at work in the past few weeks, I attribute the oversight to a combination of procrastination, lack of Atlanta friends who are passionate about independent film (Boo!), and confusion over my AFF membership status (holla at a brother, Charles).

However, I did manage to get over to the newish Starbucks in Midtown Promenade (off Piedmont Park) to attend the festival’s Diversity On Screen panel, part of their Coffeehouse Conversations series. The panel was moderated by journalist and author Gil Robertson. Author Ronda Racha Penrice, Felicia Feaster (The Atlantan), Ryan Lee (Southern Voice), and Will Hong (TurnerAsia) rounded out the panel.

In general, the panel agreed that the state of diversity in film (race, sexual orientation, gender, age, etc.) is improving. But film lags far behind television and digital/internet in terms of portraying characters and stories with complexity (Hong). Penrice added that film classics could be carried by actresses such as Joan Crawford or Bette Davis. Today, despite women becoming stronger forces in society, roles in Hollywood films have gotten weaker. The roles that do center around women are often labeled “chick flicks,” a practice that discredits interest by other audiences (Feaster).

There was discussion about a lack of resources such as financial and distribution. The panel agreed that the need to make money hampers stakeholder’s desire to takes risks. But there doesn’t seem to be an actual lack of diversified talent (Feaster). Lee mentioned that the pool of decision makers need to be diversified (for example, more LGBT executives) in order for things to change. Penrice pointed out that even when decisions makers are gay, they are often out personally (attending public events with their partner) but when it comes to professional decisions, they don’t want to be viewed that way.

Instead, Hollywood bets on the “sure thing,” even when that yields actors playing ethnic roles improperly (often a sore spot with the Asian community). Lee stated that including gay or black characters isn’t always a good thing because they are often added for diversity window dressing without any depth or backstory.

Robertson suggested audiences need to get to a point where we tell filmmakers if they cannot attain a certain standard in depicting us, then maybe they don’t need to show us onscreen at all. [Note: I love that Robertson said that! The mentality that I should support stereotypes or crap just because black or gay people are in it doesn't fly with me.]

Hong believes it’s everybody’s role to travel outside of their comfort zone and immerse themselves in other communities to learn about each other. He confessed he doesn’t do it enough himself. Robertson agreed that we profess change but may not be ready for it in actuality. He admitted that his Facebook page is 98% African American although he attends all kinds of events and travels internationally.

Unlike Hollywood films, the panel didn’t reach a neat “solution”, per se. But I think it woke up some people in terms of what we consider to be diverse in terms of film and how we challenge ourselves (or don’t) to explore lives and cultures outside of what we already know.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Let’s get the questions out of the way now:

Is the command structure in the new Star Trek entirely ridiculous? Yes!
Is the “Red Matter” the epitome of flimsy sci-fi “science”? Yes!
Is a small, evil part of me disappointed that we didn’t see Tyler Perry as Admiral Madea? Kinda!
Is Classic Spock’s entire presence a series of plot-connecting contrivances? Definitely!
Does any of this make the film any less enjoyable? Absolutely not!

No, the new Star Trek (iTrek, for short) is not anything like the original series. That’s the whole damn point, one that’s acknowledged early on. This is a different timeline – doesn’t mean prior canon doesn’t count; just that the game is different from here on out.

And even then, this story and this ensemble nailed the most important aspect of any Trek movie – the relationships between the Enterprise’s core group – while at the same time redefining them. In short: Uhura hooking up with Spock? Good. Uhura hooking up with Spock over Kirk? Great!

Speaking of Kirk, he’s at the center of the biggest difference between iTrek and 8-Track Trek: Chris Pine’s version is decidedly not the Alpha Dog here. In this instance, JTK is more like a wolf in the old Kipling poem: without the pack around him, he’s effectively useless. He needs Pike to motivate him; he needs Uhura to confirm he’s not talking out of his ass; he needs Sulu to save said ass on Nero’s mining platform; and he needs both Spocks and Scotty in order to save the day. Everybody gets to shine, and the ensemble is so much the stronger for it.

Now, people are going to complain that this is “a dumb action movie,” but stop and ask: did anybody seriously expect anything involving this bunch to go smoothly? What did people want, Degrassi in space? The return of V’ger? The Phantom Menace? This story zooms along at a more ludicrous speed than Spaceball One, the heroes constantly cheat to win (the Kobayashi Maru sequence; Sulu’s embellishing his “combat training;” Classic Spock shattering about 50 different time-travel tropes) and the villain – Eric Bana’s under-developed Nero – gets punked out way too easily.

But the character work was too good to harp on any of that for too long. To wit:

The Racialicious Scorecard
Uhura: No character benefited more from both the reboot and the re-vamp of their origin. Here Zoe Saldana got to fill Nichelle Nichols’ roles and give us not just a determined, successful cadet, but one who brought a real skill-set to the table. Bring on the Uhura/Spock slashfic … er, and hopefully some insight into how those two crazy kids got together in the first place.

Sulu: Again, Kirk only survives the fight atop the first drilling platform because of young Hikaru – in a lesser movie, Sulu’s “fencing” confession would have been a set-up to make him look inept in actual combat. We got quite the opposite here. The “parking brake” bit gave us a chance to see the patented John Cho Frustrated Face. Interesting note about Cho’s casting: apparently director J.J. Abrams was concerned about having a Korean-American inheriting a role played by a Japanese-American, but was told by George Takei that the character was meant to represent “all of Asia.”

Spock: And now we come to the Big Other. The nature of Spock’s heritage gets addressed early on, and it was a little ham-handed to see Vulcans being so openly prejudicial for two reasons:
1.Would Logic not show racism to be … well, illogical?
2.We never saw him encounter racism from anybody in Starfleet – weird to think of that as “wrong,” but we’ll talk more about Starfleet in a bit.

When it came to addressing Spock’s basic inner conflict, though, Zachary Quinto pulled it off. He even brought a bit of swagger to the character (“I have no comment on the matter” and “Out of the chair” were two of my favorite lines in the movie). And when he met his elder self, I recoiled in horror because that’s what they teach you on Doctor Who, yet I must confess … ah, it got a little dusty in the theatre.

Nero: Was anybody else thrown off by us seeing an extraterrestrial villain who didn’t sound British? The guy’s working-class patois made him sound almost like a Tarantino character, but the fact he was a working-class guy almost made it work. Of course, as a villain with an ugly-as-sin ship, he was no Montalban. But who is?

Starfleet: Ok, so all of the power players were men. This is nothing new, unfortunately. (According to Memory Alpha, of the admirals seen in prior canon, most were men, only four were POC, and the only female was Vulcan. Six women, including Voyager’s Kathryn Janeway, were Rear or Vice Admirals.) But the shots of extraterrestrials and POC serving together, without anybody looking at anybody else as weird – Kirk was a misfit because he’s just that big of a clueless putz – was encouraging in the sense that, rather than the audience getting the “lesson” of tolerance handed down as a plot point, we got to see it in action. Let’s hope for some more active examples as the series continues. One more note: the doomed Capt. Robau of the Kelvin was played by Faran Tahir, an Angeleno of Pakistani descent.

Later This Week: Stay tuned for a special Star Trek Roundable!

“Breathe,” Derek Charles says, as he vigorously shakes the leggy blonde psychotic in his hotel bed. “Bitch, breathe!”

And with this line, another awesomely campy stalker flick is born.

Trust me. You already know the plot of the newest Beyonce vehicle, Obsessed: naive married corporate exec (Elba) runs afoul of the wrong temp. You’ve seen it all before: things start off innocently enough (benign flirtation in the break room), then before long, the crazy chick can’t hide her crazy anymore and out come the crocodile tears, the trench coats covering presumed nakedness, and those ridiculous IM windows with the super-stupid, super-obvious screen names (here, Ali Larter’s Lisa calls herself TEMPGIRL).

The ending is telegraphed before the opening credits finish flashing (over a too-loud soundtrack of really crappy music). All the characters are pat and underwritten. The budget’s clearly low (The lace-front on Beyonce’s curly wig is visible in almost every scene), despite the truckload of “executive producers, including Magic Johnson, Mathew Knowles, and Beyonce (which would explain the laborious, overlong caress of the camera on the latter as she emotes). The dialogue is appropriately cliche-ridden. And, like most of the stalker flicks that came before it, Obsessed relies on a great deal of doltish behavior on the part of its protagonist in order to build its plot. (That is to say: with just a few more realistic, practical choices, there wouldn’t be a movie.)

For instance, when a married man is shoved into a bathroom stall and aggressively petted by a sexy lunatic at the office Christmas party (a lunatic who could finish him, Mortal Kombat-style, in a harassment suit, if she so chose)–and he knows the whole thing has been witnessed by a peeping coworker, he should probably let it ring from the rooftops–immediately.

But such watch-your-back vigilance just doesn’t occur to Derek. Instead, he proceeds to spend the entire first half of the film making himself appear more and more suspicious, by covering up sins he hasn’t even committed. He also does a great deal of really obvious sidelong glancing, righteously indignant yelling, and foolishly premature relief-sighing.

Derek’s wife, Sharon (Beyonce) is naturally wary of Lisa the Temp—because Sharon was Derek’s administrative assistant when their storybook courtship began and, apparently, before they married, he did a great deal of interoffice dating. You’d think this, if nothing else, would be the most glaring argument in favor of Derek being forthcoming with Sharon about Lisa’s increasingly off overtures, but again: without his stupidity, there’d be no film.

As movies of this ilk go, this one’s serviceable. At turns, Beyonce and Idris have plausible chemistry as a married couple; it’s most interesting to watch as they joke about Lisa in bed (before either knows what a loon she is) and in a confrontation scene in the family kitchen. Other times, they seem like slightly distracted, but otherwise overzealous drama students doing improv.

I’m sure at this point, you’re wondering why this review has mentioned nothing of race; it’s because the film backs way, waaay off any exploration of race dynamics. It leaves the audience to its own baggage and assessment of implications. For my part, the only potentially incendiary comment came when Derek tried to call Lisa’s bluff and get her to confess “her lies” to their coworkers. When she in turn says, “If I go in there and tell them anything, it’ll be the truth,” black audiences know better than anyone that she’s right. Derek, as the firm’s only black employee, would be little match for a fragile, weeping Ali Larter.

So Derek’s next move surprises no one. And the film has, just once, succeeded in subtlety.

A tour-de-force this ain’t—not even in a genre as cheesy as this one. It doesn’t push the envelope, like its obvious model, 1987’s Fatal Attraction. (Derek is neither layered nor culpable.) It doesn’t give its stalker sufficient motivation. (Don’t the greatest stalker flicks involve a mysteriously dead ex-husband our villainess tearily claims was abusive?) And it falls victim to the oh-so-improbable Woman-to-Woman beatdown, where the man at the center of the whole conflict is curiously absent and thus spared the messy work of violent resolution.

But come on. Who isn’t into this flick for the beatdown? Trust. You won’t be disappointed (unless you’re looking for an abundance of punny smack-talk). Just turn off your brain, embrace the derivativeness, and close your ears to the Beyonce power ballad playing over the credits. (”I wanna run smash into you,” Beyonce? Really?)