Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay “As an artist, you hope you’re making art that…reaches people.” – Gina Prince-Bythewood I love telling stories myself. Granted, I have no experience writing screenplays or constructing the perfect shot. But I have loved writing fiction for as long as I can remember. At twenty-four years old, I have not yet come up with an adequate explanation for why. I hope that I can achieve some level of introspective clairvoyance on this matter before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
But, from what I have seen many other creators talk about, they tell stories to touch people in some deeper emotional way. I think what makes any form of storytelling, including film, so potentially powerful is that this motive transcends anything else about the human experience. Nobody can truly live in another’s shoes, but we can vicariously experience the lives of others and empathize with their struggles and triumphs. In that sense, as a white man, I tend to appreciate films that focus on the perspectives of women and people of color because they offer unique, powerful lenses into the infinite diversity of humanity that help me understand what other people go through. For example, I will never be a female pro-figure skater at the heart of an infamous sports scandal but Craig Gillespie’s I, Tonya starring Margot Robbie helped me understand what that could be like. This is just one of countless films that offer this kind of insight. So, in honor of Black History Month, I want to make people aware of some films that for me serve as compelling, dynamic, horrific, and inspiring windows into some of the truths of what black and brown folks in this country have been through over the generations. In doing so, I aim not only to persuade you to watch these movies (many of them are lesser-known to the general public), but also to embrace this approach to storytelling as both engrossing and necessary. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967) Stanley Kramer (The Defiant Ones, Judgment at Nuremburg) made a name for himself in Hollywood by crafting films with direct and bold political messages about topics such as greed, fascism, nuclear war, and racism. In his work with screenwriter William Rose (It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World), Kramer aimed to structure a movie with the intention of dismantling racial and ethnic stereotypes prominent in American society during the 1960s. Kramer and Rose’s collaboration ultimately became the 1967 romantic dramedy Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, involving two of the most notable stars from the “Golden Age” of Hollywood: Spencer Tracy (Captains Courageous, Father of the Bride, Inherit the Wind), who died seventeen days after filming was completed, and Katharine Hepburn (Morning Glory, The Philadelphia Story, On Golden Pond) who retains a reputation today as one of the greatest American actresses of all time. In addition to this powerful “Golden Age” duo, Kramer was obsessed with working again with Broadway native Sidney Poitier (Lilies of the Field, In the Heat of the Night) who had previously worked with the director on 1958’s The Defiant Ones. Starring in this film and others like it, Poitier’s calm demeanor and stable presence on screen helped to shatter negative black stereotypes in media. This is a film that I sat down to watch and had a chip in my shoulder. Knowing how old it was and having not particularly enjoyed Poitier’s performance in Norman Jewison’s In the Heat of the Night, I was unsure if the film would engage me on its own terms or have anything relevant to say about race relations in the 21st century. To put it simply, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the film. For a few reasons, I think that Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner remains both entertaining and (to an extent) politically relevant. First off, just as a movie this works pretty well given its age. Tracy and Hepburn are infectiously charming; not only is their dynamic with each other thoroughly enjoyable to watch, but their rapport with Poitier as their prospective son-in-law offers some good comedic beats and touching (albeit sentimental) moments. Furthermore, I really like how the movie leans into the “stage-play” atmosphere; somehow, I buy more into the dramatic world of these characters because of it. But, I want to focus more on the sociopolitical and political and cultural message of the film and what it teaches me about the African-American experience. Simply put, it offers more insight into the need for white liberals in the 1960s to wrestle with their fears of interracial romance on the big screen. While I respect the film for its earnest critique of white sensibilities and relatively effective attempt at normalizing mixed-race relationships by embracing them, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is a victim of its own time and thus struggles to remain relevant in a vast ocean of more powerful cinematic portrayals of the black experience. That being said, I think that the core message of the movie remains completely relevant if not specifically regarding society’s embrace for interracial couples. If anything, the initial reluctance but ultimate acceptance of Poitier’s and Katharine Houghton’s characters’ engagement by Tracy and Hepburn’s characters can be representative of any relationship being introduced to a less-than-receptive family. Whether it is same-sex relationships, international relationships, or any relationship deemed “abnormal” by the social mores of the modern age, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is a great reminder that we cannot define―let alone constrict―the special connection between two souls. After all, love is love. Get on the Bus (1996) Acclaimed African-American director Spike Lee (Do the Right Thing, Malcolm X, BlacKkKlansman) has made a name for himself making movies that, in one sense or another, put race relations under a microscope to offer up his own unique take on these kinds of issues. However, two of my favorite Spike Lee movies are less overtly political and more personal in nature: the 1994 semi-autobiographical Crooklyn and the 1996 drama Get on the Bus. Today, I want to praise the latter because of the effect it had on me. For the uninitiated, Get on the Bus tells the story of over a dozen black men of varying backgrounds who argue and bond with each other on a drive to the Million Man March, learning lessons about each other and themselves along the way. While perhaps too stripped-down of a synopsis, the film packs a hefty sum of human emotion, drama, and humor to appeal to a mainstream audience while also retaining a very indie-like quality about it. Of all of Spike Lee’s early films, this one stands out due to its excellent utilization of the “road-trip” genre to build character and tension. For me, the standout performances are twofold. First, the late great Ossie Davis (The Hill, Do the Right Thing) as Jeremiah, the terminally-ill senior citizen, perfectly fits the mold as the mentor for the younger men on the bus. Second, Andre Braugher (Glory, The Mist) is incredibly convincing as the homophobic, narcissistic actor Flip. To be clear, however, all of the actors do a good or great job in the parts they play to create the engrossing atmosphere between these disparate human beings both on and off the bus. Not only is Get on the Bus an engaging two hours, but Spike Lee’s direction and Reggie Rock Bythewood’s writing complement each other very well to give the audience a nuanced peek into the political and cultural complexities underlying the interrelations of any ethnic community. By never fully revering or demonizing any particular character, the film serves up many deeply relatable and sympathetic characters with their own struggles, desires, and flaws. This makes Spike Lee’s exploration of the nuanced intricacies of their relationships as well as the overarching political themes relatable. If you’re looking to understand the modern black community through this specific lens, you cannot go wrong with Get on the Bus. 12 Years a Slave (2013) At a screening of his feature directorial debut Hunger in 2008, director Steve McQueen (Shame, Widows) met screenwriter John Ridley (U Turn, Red Tails) and expressed his interest in making a film set in “the slave era of America.” Specifically, McQueen sought to tell the story of someone who was not an obvious candidate for the slave trade. Despite some initial struggles coming up with a story, McQueen’s partner discovered the 1853 memoir “Twelve Years a Slave” by Solomon Northup and showed it to McQueen who was instantly drawn to it and wanted to make it into a film. Filmed over the course of the summer of 2012 on location in Louisiana, 12 Years a Slave was released in November of 2013 to universal critical acclaim. In addition to grossing nearly 200 million dollars on a twenty-two-million-dollar budget, the film was nominated for nine Academy Awards and won three (Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay for Ridley, and Best Supporting Actress for Lupita Nyong’o as Patsey). There are some films that I have distinctly memorable experiences for seeing them in the theater for the first time. When 12 Years a Slave came out, I was in high school. I loved history (still do) and historical fiction films (still do), and was able to convince a friend of mine to go see it with me. Not only was it one of the most emotionally draining and visceral theater-going experiences of my life, but my friend and I spent the entire drive home talking about history, slavery, racism, and discrimination so intensely. After that, I realized that the film made an impact on me to an extent that most films do not. Reflecting on that experience and subsequent viewings of the film, I struggle to think about it without getting emotional. To say that 12 Years a Slave is a rough watch is an understatement; it is brutal. I can only compare watching it to the first time I saw Alejandro Iñárritu’s 2015 revenge drama The Revenant in theaters, although these experiences were tough for different reasons. When I saw The Revenant, it was difficult to watch because of the gore and violence (and that’s coming from someone who regularly watches hyperviolent films). 12 Years a Slave, on the other hand, is an emotional rollercoaster that is difficult to sit through because of the heart wrenching amount of human suffering displayed on screen. All because of some peoples’ fear and ignorance about others. 12 Years a Slave works on so many levels for me. First and foremost, it is a compelling drama about one of the most horrific and simultaneously beautiful aspects of the human experience: suffering at the hands of injustice and overcoming that injustice through the sheer will to live. At the heart of this part of the film is Chiwetel Ejiofor, who more than deserved the recognition he received for his portrayal of Solomon Northup (and DEFINITELY deserved the Oscar for it 😊). Secondly, this film does such an incredible job at offering insight into the struggles and pains of the people that were subjugated, oppressed, and stripped of their humanity at the hands of America’s “peculiar institution.” All of the actors portraying characters who were intertwined in the system of American slavery play their parts well. Some of the more notable examples that I’ve thought about again and again: Sarah Paulson as the harsh Southern mistress Mary Epps, Paul Dano as the cruel overseer John Tibeats, Paul Giamatti as the slave trade Theophilus Freeman, and Benedict Cumberbatch as the benevolent yet apathetic plantation owner William Ford. Of all the performances, however, (besides Ejiofor) the two strongest in the film come from Lupita Nyong’o and Michael Fassbender. In many ways, their characters represent the worst aspects of slavery and human suffering. Fassbender’s ruthless slaveowner Edwin Epps verbally, physically, and sexually abuses Nyong’o’s timid yet strong-willed Patsey to the point of humiliating and nearly killing her. [SPOILERS] Arguably the most brutal and most powerful scene in the film is when Epps forces Solomon to whip Patsey as punishment for them both before deeming Solomon’s treatment of her too tame and takes over the whipping himself. There is so much to feel while watching this scene. I feel heartbroken watching Solomon have to become (albeit temporarily and disingenuously) the thing that he despises most about slavery. I feel helpless while seeing Patsey near the brink of death and lose the strength to stand as her body can do nothing but succumb to the pain of her situation. I feel intense anger and hatred towards Epps as he blindly commits violence against an innocent person to fulfill his own twisted sense of justice and reverence. But I also feel pity. For all three of them, yet for different reasons. I pity Solomon for having to whip Patsey, and for being enslaved. I feel pity for Patsey for being whipped, and for being enslaved. For both of these characters, my pity is fierce because they cause me to think about the countless lives lost and destroyed at the hands of an inhuman, racist system of subjugation. To a far lesser degree, however, I feel pity for Epps. To be clear, Epps is a bad person who does horrible things for senseless reasons. Also, I am not at all intending to equate the experiences of the white people who participated (actively or passively) in slavery to the suffering experienced by those who were victims of it. All that being said, watching Epps commit such atrocities in the name of doing “what he pleases with his property” reminds me that countless white people were born into, grew up with, and died accepting slavery as a social, cultural, political, and economic institution without ever seriously questioning its innate absurdity or dehumanizing nature. My point is that slavery has the potential to destroy every single person involved in one way or another. And while 12 Years a Slave does the opposite of shying away from the toll that it takes on those subjected to it, it also shows just how much suffering that the human spirit can survive and overcome. Unfortunately, watching Solomon finally be discovered in the Deep South and taken back home to his family after spending such a long time in forced servitude is satisfying only to a point. As he turns around to watch himself slowly leave the presence of Patsey and the other enslaved men, women and children that were his emotional anchor for so long, I feel tremendous sorrow knowing that the overwhelming majority of people in slavery did not escape or were not rescued. They were stuck, many of them for life, in an environment that did everything in its power to dehumanize them. Yet, I am slightly comforted by the knowledge that these men, women, and children continued to live their lives in spite of their circumstances. They spent time together, they celebrated each other, they married and had children. In light of the hand that life dealt them, there is no greater testament to just how powerful the human will to go on is than that. Ultimately, watching 12 Years a Slave encapsulates what I feel is one of the most painful and horrible aspects of the experience lived by generations of black Americans, as well as one of the most tragic parts of American history. McQueen and his cast and crew portray this element of humanity earnestly, honestly, and passionately. They never shy away from the nearly-unendurable truths of American slavery. Rather, they embrace all of what it was in the hopes of making sure that such blatant violations of human rights never happen again in this nation. If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) Coming off his success for directing the 2016 Best Picture winner Moonlight, Barry Jenkins received the funding necessary to create a film adaptation of James Baldwin’s 1974 novel “If Beale Street Could Talk.” It was based on a 2013 screenplay that Jenkins wrote at the same time he wrote the treatment for Moonlight. Released in late 2018, the film was universally acclaimed and a modest success at the box office by grossing just over twenty million dollars worldwide on a twelve-million-dollar budget. For those unfamiliar, If Beale Street Could Talk may seem on the surface to be a typical coming-of-age love story. But after watching this film, it is much more than that. Yes, it includes a very touching and relatable love story portrayed beautifully by lead actors Kiki Layne (Native Son, The Old Guard) and Stephan James (Selma, Race). In addition to that, in my humble opinion, it is also a powerful story about relationships that are forced to survive and flourish in the face of adversity. The burgeoning love between young black couple Clementine “Tish” (Layne) and Alonzo “Fonny” (James) in 1970s Harlem includes such compelling chemistry shared between the actors as to suck you in within the first fifteen minutes. After that, Tish and Alonzo’s fight to overcome injustice in the face of a prejudiced criminal justice system while keeping themselves and their families from being torn apart due to the pressures put upon them. Honestly, the less I say about this film the better. I really think you should just watch it to understand its draw. What I will end with, though, is that If Beale Street Could Talk is universally appealing because of the romance at its center. But what makes it stand out as a film and a definitive modern portrayal of the black experience is how it gracefully incorporates its politics into the narrative without one overshadowing the other. At the end of the day, I do not know what “the black experience” is or what it means to different people. All I know is a good film when I see one. And when it comes to movies that, in my humble opinion, teach me something about the lives of African Americans, I think that these four films do just that. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is a solid (yet dated) examination of what minorities deal with in terms of being identified as the “other” when the situation calls for acceptance rather than suspicion or apprehension. Get on the Bus is an entertaining and educational look at how the black community (like every community within human society) is diverse in thought and experience yet is united in the issues facing everyone within it. 12 Years a Slave is a painful but necessary portrayal of how white America dehumanized and subjugated black America for so long, yet failed to strip black Americans of their inner strength. And If Beale Street Could Talk contextualizes young love between two people within the struggles that only those disproportionately discriminated against will face. Sadly, all of these lessons remain relevant for many in our population to learn whether through art, politics, or some other means. While much progress has been made, there are still so many mountains to climb. What films do you think capture truths of the black experience in America? What do you think is important to include in these types of movies? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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