Tag Archives: Shonda Rhimes

Open Thread: Scandal S03 E07: ‘Everything’s Coming Up Mellie’

By Arturo R. García

“Scandal” attempted to give Mellie (Bellamy Young) a backstory this week, to unpleasant results.

SPOILERS AND TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS POST

It’s possible Shonda Rhimes, writer Peter Nowalk and the Scandal creative team intended for Mellie to dominate the water-cooler talk after this episode, and explicitly set out to “out-do” not just Quinn’s descent into B613′s clutches, but the confirmation that Olivia’s mother is still alive and Fitz’s realization that Olivia’s father is the man atop B613.

It’s also apparent that they succeeded. But not without going to a highly questionable place.

Again, TRIGGER WARNING for subject matter under the cut.
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Open Thread: Scandal S03E06: ‘Icarus’

By Arturo R. García

Unbeknownst to her, Young Olivia (Yara Shahidi) bids her mother Maya (Khandi Alexander) her final goodbye.

The thing is, Cyrus is almost right: This season is shaping up to be Scandal‘s version of “a Greek tragedy in the making.” He just doesn’t realize how far that could spread. He also forgets to mention that in the story that gives this episode its’ title, Icarus didn’t meet his fate entirely on his own — he does so with the tools someone else provided for him.
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Open Thread: Scandal S03E05: ‘More Cattle, Less Bull’

By Arturo R. García

The Road to the White House now appears to literally go through Olivia (Kerry Washington) on “Scandal.”

Give writer Jenna Bans credit: “More Cattle, Less Bull” justified its’ rather fast clip by successfully showing why this show’s distaff circles have no choice but to stick around each other. It also delivers a major reversal of fortune for Olivia’s career, just in time for what will probably instigate the final battle with her father.
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Open Thread: Scandal S03E04: ‘Say Hello To My Little Friend’

By Arturo R. García

Jake (Scott Foley) reclaims his #WhiteBoo status on “Scandal.”

After getting its Homeland on last week, Scandal took a dip in the Law & Order case pool, in a story about connections that also pushed the season’s big story further along much quicker than expected.
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Open Thread: Scandal S03E03: ‘Mrs. Smith Goes To Washington’

By Arturo R. García

Olivia (Kerry Washington) puts herself in the line of fire — literally.

Last week, Shonda Rhimes and company demonstrated the outlines of the box Olivia Pope is living in. This time around, we got to see how far that box extends, and who’s stuck in there with her.

To do that, writer Matt Byrne used another woman boxing herself in, only to sweep Olivia up alongside her.
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Open Thread: Scandal S03E02: ‘Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner’

By Arturo R. García

Olivia (Kerry Washington) faces bad connections all around her in “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.”

Upon second viewing, the thing that stands out about “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” is how it emphasizes the loneliness that seems to be at the core of Olivia Pope’s life.

Not to say she’s alone — far from it. But after the events of this week’s episode, it’s hard to think of any relationship in her life one could call good. And wonder where Shonda Rhimes will take that theme.
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Open Thread: The 2013 Emmy Awards

By Arturo R. García

Maybe Damon Wayans said it best about Sunday night:

Surprising? No. But still disconcerting to see play out, both on TV and online, perhaps most vividly after Scandal‘s Kerry Washington lost the award for Best Actress in a Dramatic Series to Homeland star Claire Danes. Not only were regular viewers ticked off, but as Trudy at Gradient Lair pointed out, even Washington’s castmates called the voters out:

Hopefully nobody holds Columbus Short’s remarks against the show when nomination season rolls around again.
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The Racialicious Links Roundup 5.23.13

Make no mistake: This donation is historic. It appears to be the largest gift by a black man to any college or university, comparable to the gift Bill Cosby and his wife, Camille, gave to Spelman College in 1988. Some 25 years later, their $20-million gift (about $39 million in inflation-adjusted dollars) is still the largest-ever private gift to a historically black college. Dre gave USC almost triple the amount Oprah Winfrey has given Morehouse College over the years. Sean “Diddy” Combs gave $500,000 to Howard University in 1999, which he attended before launching a successful career.

A hip-hop icon is now the new black higher-ed philanthropy king. We’ve never seen a donation to rival this from any black celebrity — musician, athlete or actor — and that fact must be celebrated.

But as the president of a black college, it pains me as well. I can’t help but wish that Dre’s wealth, generated as it was by his largely black hip-hop fans, was coming back to support that community.

USC is a great institution, no question. But it has a $3.5-billion endowment, the 21st largest in the nation and much more than every black college — combined. Less than 20% of USC’s student body qualifies for federal Pell Grants, given to students from low-income families, compared with two-thirds of those enrolled at black colleges. USC has also seen a steady decrease in black student enrollment, which is now below 5%.

A new report on black male athletes and racial inequities shows that only 2.2% of USC undergrads are black men, compared with 56% of its football and basketball teams, one of the largest disparities in the nation. And given USC’s $45,602 tuition next year, I’m confident Dre could have sponsored multiple full-ride scholarships to private black colleges for the cost of one at USC.

The comparison has been made before between Lena Dunham and Beyoncé as feminist icons. Mainstream white feminist organizations don’t question whether Lena Dunham, a self-professed feminist, is feminist enough. Though her show Girls has come under fire in more progressive wings of feminism, mainstream feminist organizations embrace her, happily framing her as a new face of feminism. Dunham openly swears, walks around naked, and simulates sex onscreen, but there is no larger mainstream questioning of her feminist credentials. But when Beyoncé, a fierce, independent woman of color flirts with the feminist monikerthe backlash begins. How interesting.

Dunham has appeared fully naked on her show. She has both appeared in and written some highly provocative and often controversial sex scenes. Her character has been shown snorting cocaine and having one-night stands, yet no one questions Dunham’s feminist credentials. And they shouldn’t — her choice to appear naked and in simulated sex scenes is not anti-feminist. It’s a choice that she made, an artistic choice meant to explore sexuality, sexual expression, and the limits of her character.

And yet, Beyoncé is often roundly criticized in feminist spaces because of her “slutty” outfits, herovertly-sexual dance moves, for her lyric choices, for using the moniker Mrs. Carter, and her occasional use of the word bitch. Who are we, feminists? Is this who we want to be? You sound like Phyllis Schlafly. She wears a unitard — she can’t be a feminist! She is gyrating and shaking her butt — how inappropriate! She said the word “bitch” — that’s a feminist no-no! Do you hear yourselves, white liberal feminists? Do you hear what you are doing to this strong, independent black woman?

That Olivia Pope is the new darling of network television is less surprising than you might think, if you really take the time to think about it and to consider it within the context of America’s strange relationship with its dark racial past. After 40 years without a leading black female in a network drama – 40 years which has seen the likes of cornrows at Wimbledon and the White House – it’s more than about time, it’s way overdue (interestingly, if you Google “black female accomplishments of the past 40 years,” Kerry Washington’s Wikipedia page is the sixth entry). But the hype aroundScandal feels different than the catharsis traditionally felt when glass ceilings are nudged by nappy or nappy-in-spirit heads of hair. This is at least in part due to the show’s success lying in not only one fictional black woman’s double-duty reign on the mountaintop and roll in the hay; Scandal’s real shocker is that it represents a trifecta of black female power, visibility, and influence in the entertainment industry. The show’s creator, Shonda Rhimes, who, according to Willa Paskin of The New York Times, is “one of the most powerful show runners in the business,” the real-life inspiration for its protagonist, crisis manager Judy Smith, and its leading lady, the hybrid star and character, brown bombshell Kerry Washington/Olivia Pope, who is brilliant, cunning, and stunningly beautiful.

Rhimes is a crafty one, to say the least. She learned the hard way “how to be a boss and a leader at the same time,” forced to transition from a self-sequestered screenwriter into the powerhouse Midas she is now, as her first network effort, Grey’s Anatomy, turned directly into prime-time gold. Paskin’s NYT piece paints a picture of a woman who earned and owns the right to write the counter-culture D.C. of Scandal,where “America is run by an African-American spin expert, a scheming first lady and a mercenary gay guy.” Furthermore, Shonda Rhimes’ facility with social networking has made her show the industry’s darling test-tube baby of multi-media engagement and viewership, prompting the Los Angeles Times’ Mary McNamara to crown Scandal“the show that Twitter built.” Rhimes regularly sends Tweets of gratitude to 350,000 followers and fans, who include among their number former-D.C. mayor Marion Barry; while cast members Tweet from the set, and fans respond in kind. All of this has made the show a social media phenomenon, and the first to achieve the multi-screen orgy network execs have been trying to pull off since prime-time ratings started falling.

While I was a teenager during the grunge and Riot Grrrl era, for some reason I was (at the time) more drawn to hyper-masculine, testosterone-saturated grunge and metal bands and was not that interested in what was happening on the other side of the scene. As Hanna’s talk was intriguing, I took the opportunity to check out The Punk Singer, part of the Hot Docs Festival in Toronto.

About 10 minutes into the documentary, I knew that I had made a colossal mistake.

Well, actually, as soon as I saw a snippet of 17 year-old fashion blogger Tavi Gevinson waxing poetic about an era she was not even alive to witness, I knew that I would not be able to put my personal biases in regards to my age—and more importantly, my ethnicity as a black woman—aside when watching this documentary.

From watching The Punk Singer, I realized why I had never been that psyched on the Riot Grrrl scene. It wasn’t for me. It was for white women.

At the most basic level, there’s nothing any more wrong with aspiring to be a rapper than there is with aspiring to be a painter, or an actor, or a sculptor. Hip-hop has produced some of the most penetrating art of our time, and inspired much more. My path to this space began with me aspiring to be rapper. Hip-hop taught me to love literature. I am not alone. Perhaps you should not aspire to be a rapper because it generally does not provide a stable income. By that standard you should not aspire to be a writer, either.

At a higher level, there is the time-honored pattern of looking at the rather normal behaviors of black children and pathologizing them. My son wants to play for Bayern Munich. Failing that, he has assured me he will be Kendrick Lamar. When I was kid I wanted to be Tony Dorsett — or Rakim, whichever came first. Perhaps there is some corner of the world where white kids desire to be Timothy Geithner instead of Tom Brady. But I doubt it. What is specific to black kids is that their dreams often don’t extend past entertainment and athletics  That is a direct result of the kind of limited cultural exposure you find in impoverished, segregated neighborhoods. Those neighborhoods are the direst result of American policy.

Enacting and enforcing policy is the job of the Obama White House. When asked about policy for African Americans, the president has said, “I’m not the president of black America. I’m the president of all America.” An examination of the Obama administration’s policy record toward black people clearly bears this out. An examination of the Obama administration’s rhetoric, as directed at black people, tells us something different.