It's hard out here for a Black-themed #1

I said I probably wouldn't write about the next previous #1 I rewatched during a 2022 full of rewatching #1s.

I say a lot of things.

Who knows, I might end up writing about all of them. But I'm writing about this one for a number of particular reasons, certainly not listed in the order of their importance, or if anything, listed in the inverse order.

1. The cover of this DVD I bought from a closing video store back in 2015. It's like an archeological find that captures the video store at the exact moment before its death. At this point they were renting out videos for a whole week for only $1.90. So it went from $1.90 to borrow it for a week to $3 to own it for the rest of my life. RIP, video stores.

2. Something funny I noticed on this cover. It has a picture of Taryn Manning with her eyes closed and her lips basically touching the microphone that she turns a trick in order to acquire. But she never actually sings in the film. I suppose maybe this image was just intended as a metaphor -- almost like a sexual relationship with the microphone? -- or maybe it's from a scene that ended up on the cutting room floor.

3. My region-free DVD player, one of our first purchases after moving to Australia, might be dead. For a while now I have had trouble with its tray ejecting properly. When I watched Looking for Richard the other week, which I also bought during the closure of the aforementioned video store, I got the tray to eject well enough to receive the disk, but it could not identify the disk. I thought it might have been an issue with the DVD itself, but it played fine on my computer, which is where I ultimately ended up watching it. My computer was where I ended up watching Hustle & Flow, though I did connect it to our TV via HDMI so as to get the maximum size of the image. I had to do this because in trying to wrench open the DVD tray, I ended up pulling it out of the player entirely. I'd like to take a pass at opening it up and fixing it, but it might finally be time to replace this stalwart piece of technology -- or else admit to ourselves that DVDs are a thing of the past and not get a replacement. I can watch DVDs from the correct region through my computer, but any of my collection originating in the U.S., which includes dozens of titles, will be inaccessible to me if I go this route. Sad face.

4. Because it was a shitty video store DVD, the image quality was not great. I don't think the video store pirated it or anything, that would be pretty shady and this was a legit store. Plus Hustle & Flow is supposed to look a little, or a lot, grungy. But I reckon the image quality would have been a lot better on BluRay or streaming, and I hope this didn't impact my feelings about the movie as I was watching it. (Incidentally, when I was having those problems getting the DVD player's tray to open, I checked to see if I could find it streaming anywhere for free. Nope, only for rental.)

5. As I was updating my list of rewatches on Letterboxd, I noticed I had given Hustle & Flow only 4.5 stars when I retroactively assigned star ratings to all my previous viewings upon first getting started with Letterboxd, just about exactly ten years ago. (Hey, another occasion for an anniversary post if I weren't already flooded with content just waiting for its chance to get posted online.) This is significant for two reasons: 1) I was much less generous with my star ratings when I first started on Letterboxd. I gave Tangled only 4.5 stars, which now seems insane. 2) I had previously thought Parasite was my only #1 I had given less than five stars on Letterboxd, a star rating I would now boost to five if I were putting it in the first time. Parasite remains the only #1 I gave less than five stars in real time on Letterboxd, but having at least Hustle & Flow joining it in a retroactive assessment is an interesting wrinkle.

6. It's Black History Month, and this is the only #1 I've ever chosen that has Black themes of any kind.

This is what I really want to talk about.

I've only had one #1 film that contained more than a token representation of Black characters, and it couldn't even be directed by a Black director.

Craig Brewer does not seem guilty of cultural appropriation in Hustle & Flow -- this is not something we were talking about so much back in 2005 -- but it has always gnawed at me that the one time I picked a film about Black people, it's directed by a white guy.

But it's the only one time selecting a film about Black people that really gnaws at me.

I'd say I need to do better on this, but making it a conscious thing is a recipe for disaster. A #1 movie of any year is such a cherished object -- by me, anyway, as evidenced by the rewatch of #1s I'm doing in 2022 -- that if you try to boost a movie to that spot artificially, even based on admirable goals like trying to be more woke, you aren't being honest with yourself or anyone else. If I purposefully set out to "do better," I'd be polluting a process that should be pure.

The closest I've gotten in recent years was when Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman was my #2 of 2018. I felt it had a real shot at #1, but in the end I knew my appreciation for Paul Schrader's First Reformed was greater. And since I saw First Reformed first, I don't think it even spent any time in the #1 position before ultimately ending up at #2.

I'm desperate for this to occur organically, as you can probably tell. But there have not been any serious contenders since then, and I can't remember the last serious contender before that. If Beale Street Could Talk would have been a serious contender, as it finished even higher in my top 25 of the decade than BlacKkKlansman, but I didn't see it in time to rank it -- it was a very late release in Australia, not until after I'd closed my list. Besides, that was also the year of First Reformed, which was a very tough competitor -- I've already seen it four times in less than four years since I first saw it. 

The real dispiriting element to this is that Black characters are few and far between in all of my #1s. I ran through them in my head the other night. I won't list all the titles that are painfully white, but instead, list the remaining options that at least have some decent Black representation on screen. And I can count them on one hand, other than Hustle & Flow: Children of Men, First Reformed, Our Friend. Crap, I don't even need all the fingers on the hand. That's not to say there are zero Black characters in the other films, just that they don't have any significant role in the story.

To be fair, it was more common back then for films to feature exclusively white people and for this not to raise any eyebrows. Only in the past decade have we made genuine strides on representation in film. Plus, five of those are foreign language films, where you are even less likely to find people of color.

Still, the whole thing feels pretty shameful.

I'd examine how this state of affairs has come to be, except it increases my sense of shame. Well, this is my blog and I always try to be honest with myself in this space, so let's do it.

If I were being as harsh on myself as possible, I'd say I need some sort of white character for a film to achieve maximum resonance for me. Even Hustle & Flow has two significant white characters, the sound engineer played by DJ Qualls and the prostitute played by Taryn Manning. (Interestingly, I noted Manning plays the ultimate white character in 2021's Karen, a multi-Golden Raspberry nominee, which I have rented and will watch within the next month.) BlacKkKlansman is notable for being told almost equally through the eyes of Adam Driver's character as John David Washington's character. I hate that the evidence suggests this is a contributing factor, but I'm not going to ignore the evidence either. 

This is not to say that movies without white characters don't resonate with me. Take the If Beale Street Could Talk example. The only two white characters with any sort of dialogue are a malicious police officer played by Ed Skrein and a nice landlord played by Dave Franco. It would be silly to suggest that either character's perspective had anything to do with why the film resonated with me. It's just that a film starring exclusively people of color has yet to achieve the maximum resonance implied by naming it your #1. Barry Jenkins' film had two things going against it, the latter of which made the former moot: 1) It was going up against the juggernaut that was First Reformed, and 2) I didn't see it in time to rank it anyway. 

In letting myself off the hook a little bit with this, I have to recognize exactly what I've concluded in the paragraph above: Some of this is just random. Had Beale Street been released a little earlier, and had I not caught First Reformed at MIFF, one might have been #1 and the other might have been the one I didn't see, given that First Reformed had a weird release strategy in Australia and I never actually observed it playing in theaters. It happened the other way around, and the history is what it is.

But speaking of history, Black History Month is a good time not only to rewatch this #1 -- remember I still had more than 20 others to choose from -- but also to examine some of the reasons it's so lonesome in my history of best films. I can tell you that as a cinephile surveying the slate of new releases each year, I sit there in a constant state of optimism -- some might say desperate hope -- about new Black-themed projects directed by Black directors, and the impact they could potentially have on me. 

One hasn't risen to #1 yet, but I hope it's only a matter of time.

Bequeathing viewing diversity to your kids

The movies that are sitting in my iTunes rental area at any given time are, by their very nature, a random collection. They typically represent a mixture of movies made available for 99 cents and those I've selected as part of some ongoing viewing project, plus maybe a title or two that I just want to see for my own reasons.

They do not, it goes without saying, reflect some kind of political agenda on my part, but I sure am glad when a positive political message arises from them.

This week I couldn't help notice my older son looking over my shoulder in iTunes as I was on my rental page. He didn't say anything, but his gaze seemed to linger on the titles in a moment of processing and acknowledgment. Those titles were Ran, The Third Wife, If Beale Street Could Talk, Chi-Raq and Shadow.

If you're scoring at home, those are three titles from Asia -- one each from Japan, Vietnam and China -- and two titles featuring predominantly African-American casts. The posters for Ran and Shadow were abstract enough that he wouldn't have known the difference, but the faces on the other three posters, and the color and look of those faces, were easy to see.

It's great to be able to tell your kids about diversity and champion it in the abstract, but it's even better to lead by example.

It was actually only the day before that he'd seen Dolemite is My Name paused on my computer, and asked about it. I explained that it was about the origins of raunchy comedy focused at an African-American audience. And though I think my son was a bit taken aback by the notion of raunchy comedy, he could see that it was something I valued. What's more, he could see I was watching this movie in the first place, of my own accord and own volition.

I would hope as time goes on, we are raising children who are inherently less racist than we were when we were that age, but it never hurts to buttress this with teachable moments. This week we also watched the (hilarious) video for Lil Nas X' "Old Town Road," at my son's behest, which was a good start. We explained a bit about why this video is so "important," because it is -- not only does it feature a black person using his music to try to promote understanding between traditionally divergent music fan bases, but that black person is also gay. Lil Nas X is like a walking, talking teachable moment. (We also praised the genius of Chris Rock, who appears in the video, and who is one of those comedians who benefited from the legacy of Dolemite's Rudy Ray Moore.)

But words pale in comparison to actions, and I love the fact that my son got to see that six of my upcoming viewings -- including Dolemite -- were movies by and about people of color.

I didn't put too fine a point on it, which was the key. If I'd said "Look, son, at how enlightened I am, watching all these movies about people who are different from me," it wouldn't have been nearly as effective.

Besides, the important part is how they are not, in essence, different from me. All film is about the human experience of life, and all humans experience life in ways that are relatably similar, even if those perspectives may seem different on the surface.

I think, or at least hope, that's what my son took away from my iTunes rental queue.

Two hundred movies for $330

Another milestone coming at ya.

Friday night I saw If Beale Street Could Talk, which only just opened on Thursday, and which I expect to review in the next day or so. Spoiler alert: I loved it. 9/10.

That marked the 200th movie I've seen for "free" with my critics card from the Australian Film Critics Association, which I acquired in July of 2015. I know this because I keep a running list. (Of course I do.)

The card is not entirely free, as you pay an annual $75 membership that comes due at the end of January each year. Because of some crazy math, in the first year I paid only a pro-rated $30 even though I got my card less than six months after that deadline.

I have since renewed the card four times, each year holding my breath because it seemed too good to be true. I mean, I'm a working critic and this card is designed to provide us relief on the cost of ticket prices, so it's not like I'm getting away with some scam. But it still does feel like an unsustainable scenario, and one major theater chain (Hoyts) has actually pulled out of the deal in the time since I've gotten the card.

But each year a new card arrived in the mail, promptly some years (like this year) and on the eve of the old card expiring other years (like last year).

And I have now seen exactly 200 movies for those $330 since that first screening of Terminator: Genisys way back at the start. That's only $1.65 per theatrical viewing, but even that is misleadingly high. As I only paid the most recent $75 at the end of December, it was at one recent point like 190 movies for $255, which is only $1.34 per movie.

And I rarely go more than once per week, so I could be reaping even more value from this.

Only after I started writing this post did I remember I wrote this other one, celebrating the first 100. (Of course I did.)

On to the next 100.

Regina King vs. Regina Hall

The other night at the Golden Globes, Regina King was recognized for her work as Sharon Rivers in If Beale Street Could Talk by winning the award for best supporting actress in any motion picture.

I haven't seen the movie yet, and unfortunately, will not be able to until February, after my year-end ranking deadline. However, I did think "Wow, what a great year for her, since she was also critically acclaimed in Support the Girls."

Nope. That was Regina Hall.

In fact, Regina Hall became the first black woman ever to be honored with an acting award from the New York Film Critics Circle, which seems crazy but oh well. Better late than never. She was named best actress by the NYFCC for Support the Girls.

Which I saw last night, leading to this post.

It turns out, the two women have more in common than the same first name, a monosyllabic common noun last name, the same skin color, and earning an acting award in 2018. (That's Hall on the left and King on the right, by the way.)

I figured I was more familiar with Regina King, as I determined she was the one who appeared in the sitcom 227 way back when, and was a fixture in John Singleton's movies in the 1990s. I decided I definitely should not mistake the two and that Hall was likely some new(er)comer who was 15 years younger than King.

In actuality, Hall is older. But not by much. Hall was born on December 12, 1970, meaning she has just turned 48. Thirty-four days later, on January 15, 1971, King was born. Meaning she'll turn 48 next week. And yes, although King did get an earlier start, when she was only a teenager, Hall first hit the (small) screen in an episode of the TV show Loving in 1992. She only had two more roles in the 1990s before starting to appear in an average of two to three projects a year come the 21st century. Making her the rare case of an actress whose career actually heated up when she hit 30.

In glancing over the rest of their filmographies, I can't draw meaningful comparisons between the choices they've made. Hall was in all the Scary Movies as well as a number of romantic comedy/dramas curated for an African American audience (and almost every film directed by Malcolm D. Lee), while King has been sprinkled throughout the movies and TV. In terms of pure critical acclaim for the movies they've appeared in, King seems to have the upper hand, with such films to her credit as Boyz N the Hood, Jerry Maguire and Ray. But my favorite performance of either actress is probably Hall's as the lead in last year's Girls Trip, in which I thought she killed it. Hall is also now more regularly a film actress while King seems to work mostly in TV, which gives her an advantage on this particular blog.

I do think it's strange that they have not worked together during the two decades in the business that their careers have overlapped, which I can confirm as a result of one of those "credited with" searches on IMDB. Someone could have even done it as a stunt. Though maybe casting directors were more concerned about the faux pas of confusing one for the other and just avoided the scenario altogether.

Whatever the case, I'm glad that 2018 represents long overdue recognition for both. It's a shame that it took until they were nearly 50 to be so recognized, but again ... better late than never.