Black British Actors – Bitch Flicks

The Fresh Slice of Life of ‘Ackee & Saltfish’

Friendship between women has been depicted in an array of illustrious shapes in our pop culture. Who hasn’t seen the indelible images of Thelma and Louise, Cher and Dionne, Romy and Michelle, Leslie and Anne? The new kids on the block that will nestle themselves into our cultural lexicon are: Olivia and Rachel. British humor is revered and known for blending dark humor with peculiar physical comedy, but try listing at least three films off the top of your head that are focused on the Black British experience and black British humor; you’ll likely come up short. However, there’s now ‘Ackee & Saltfish,’ a witty step forward in closing the gap.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Friendship between women has been depicted in an array of illustrious shapes in our pop culture. Who hasn’t seen the indelible images of Thelma and Louise, Cher and Dionne, Romy and Michelle, Leslie and Anne? The new kids on the block that will nestle themselves into our cultural lexicon are: Olivia and Rachel. British humor is revered and known for blending dark humor with peculiar physical comedy, but try listing at least three films off the top of your head that are focused on the Black British experience and black British humor; you’ll likely come up short. However, there’s now Ackee & Saltfish, a witty step forward in closing the gap.

The Jamaican-British director Cecile Emeke forged her own path of limitless creativity – outside the mainstream media – with her honest, humoristic storytelling. Another filmmaker who created her own niche is Issa Rae, who established an successful career out of her YouTube series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl, that resulted in a deal with HBO for her TV pilot and a bestselling novel of the same name. While both managed to create space where the doors were closed that’s where the similarities end.

Emeke garnered the public’s attention via her “Fake Deep” poem, and through her phenomenal work on the Strolling docu-series. She has carved a safe space for young Black women and men to vent and offer their unique perspectives navigating the Western world whilst being Black. In an interview with The Washington Post, Emeke explained how she created her docu-series, saying, “Strolling was born out of a desire to capture and share intra-communal discussions within the black community in hopes of affirming others and relieving alienation. I started off capturing conversations with friends, but since Strolling has grown, the conversations have grown to include people all over the world. I’m aiming to touch every corner of the diaspora.” Those are lofty goals and it seems she’s about to fulfill them. Her work was selected by Tribeca N.O.W., which celebrates new online work of independent filmmakers, BBC Trending recently called her YouTube channel “young, British, witty and black.” The New York Times said her work was “rendered with a complexity and depth that is exhilarating to watch.” Not bad for someone who only picked up a camera at the start of 2014.

Ackee & Saltfish is set on a warm Sunday afternoon in East London where we follow Olivia (Michelle Tiwo) and Rachel (Vanessa Babirye) on their quest to find food – or to be precise – the traditional Caribbean dish Ackee and saltfish. The duo planned a lavish brunch but Rachel forgot to soak the saltfish overnight so now they’re on a serious mission to find an authentic plate of Ackee and saltfish. On their stroll through the city hilarity ensues and tensions rise when we follow the best friends on their holy quest to find their Caribbean takeaway. The short film is written and directed by Emeke.

Emeke allows the viewer to closely follow two best friends who talk about pop culture, love, classism, racism, and the world at large, but there’s no drama when it comes to boyfriends, drugs, or other redundant tropes that seem to be prevalent when it comes to modern films about the Black British experience – i.e. Adulthood, Kidulthood, Top Boy (TV).

It’s a double-edged sword when it comes to Black women and media–they are underrepresented but at the same time molded in archetypes that are damaging society’s perception of Black women. Think of the Strong Black Woman, Mammy, Jezebel, Video Vixen, and so on. What’s so refreshing about Ackee & Saltfish is that Emeke simply presents an alternative. Olivia and Rachel are two Black women who are just livin’ life.

There’s an excellent balance between the two characters. Olivia has a distinct personality: bubbly, brash, outspoken and quick with her sometimes insensitive quips while Rachel is more grounded, contemplative and not necessarily as interested in talking about socio-political issues. When Olivia is firing up about gentrification and cultural appropriation, Rachel sarcastically claps back with “Aww, did you learn some new words off Black Twitter today?” Her reaction reflects their different stances on the issues at hand. Whilst Olivia is ready to fight the status quo, Rachel succumbs to the fact that they can’t change the situation right away. For many, Olivia’s anger will seem justified but Emeke never portrays the characters being right or wrong. It’s up to the audience to form their own opinion.

Can we see Olivia and Rachel as carefree Black girls? Jamala Johns wrote in her article for Refinery29 on carefree Black girls: “By putting the word ‘carefree’ front and center, it’s making a statement that we don’t want to be solely defined by hardships and stereotypes so we can enjoy our lives as we please. Carefree should not be mistaken with careless.” So with that in mind, it’s refreshing to see Olivia and Rachel quibbling whether or not Olivia will find her own Common but they’re simultaneously aware of the issues surrounding religion, race, the social implications of gentrification in their neighborhood, and so much more. There are a couple of funny scenes where Olivia and Rachel riff off each other:

Olivia: “I want Solange to adopt me.”

Rachel: “Why?”

Olivia: “Well, think about it, Solange as a mother would be the most amazing thing in the world.”

Rachel: “Why?! How do you know that?”

Olivia: “Like, Julez is livin’. I’m trying to live with Julez.”

This and several other short scenes underline the depth of their friendship and the ease with which they talk to each other on the most mundane topics. Emeke gives us a glimpse into the private world that exists between two best friends. Often comparisons are made with the Comedy Central hit Broad City, or Pursuit of Sexiness by SNL’s Sasheer Zamata and Girl Code’s Nicole Bryer, where you also follow the lives of two 20-somethings in the big city, but you’ll find out that Ackee & Saltfish stands on its own.

The crux of the appeal of Ackee & Saltfish lies in the humor and the familiarity. The underlying layer of authenticity simmers throughout the film when you hear Olivia and Rachel throw quips back and forth. It’s like you can see them walking past you on the street, and you catch funny snippets of an intimate conversation where you want to chime in – but instead you’ll hold your tongue. The cinematography of the film is straightforward, sometimes Emeke uses soft focus, or slow, inquisitive zooms. Emeke narrows the story down to the classic unity of time, place, and action. The core of the film is a long walk, recorded in real time and the takes create the appearance that the scenes are off-the-cuff improvised, but in fact they’re carefully scripted and extensively rehearsed. It’s cinematic strolling at its best.

Ackee & Saltfish is a short film that consists of small events, many conversations, and a lot of friendship. It is a tribute to healthy female friendship between Black women, but also a film about pop culture, gentrification, classism, race and just two girls enjoying life. The narrative is not groundbreaking. Nevertheless, the natural chemistry between the leads, the sometimes uncontrollably witty scenes, dialogues and observations and richness of details carry the film with ease.

Just like the Caribbean dish, this short film will make you thirsty and crave for more. Luckily, you can now quench your thirst since Emeke followed the short format with a five-part series on YouTube where you can follow the everyday adventures of best friends Olivia and Rachel.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPu-DN58KuM”]

See also at Bitch Flicks: Ackee & Saltfish: There Are Other Narratives to Explore

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law), and American pop culture. See her blog here.

‘Ackee & Saltfish’: There Are Other Narratives to Explore

We need new filmmakers like Cecile Emeke to break new ground with digital media. Smash the stranglehold of white filmmakers being the only ones telling Black stories that often dredge up old stereotypes and tired narratives. We need the specificity of Emeke’s vision. And dammit, I need more Rachel and Olivia in my life.

“It would be nice to have a story where it doesn’t always have to relate around men, or drug dealer boyfriend, babymama drama, (gun crime), or my Daddy’s gone. It doesn’t have to be like that. There are other narratives you know.”

–Michelle Tiwo (Olivia in Cecile Emeke’s Ackee and Saltfish)

I happened to be on Twitter the day Ava DuVernay hosted her 12-hour Rebel-A-Thon social media conversation with 42 Black filmmakers on May 27. With the hashtag #Array, various screenwriters, directors, and producers answered questions from fans and interacted with one another. I gave a shout-out online with my support, but also stated that I wanted to see more underrepresented filmmakers outside of the U.S.

Another Twitter user following the hashtag dropped filmmaker Cecile Emeke into my mentions. I quickly went to YouTube and discovered her humorous comedic web series Ackee & Saltfish.

Cecile Emeke, creator/writer/director of "Ackee and Saltfish" and "Strolling" — Cecile Emeke, creator/writer/director of *Ackee & Saltfish* and *Strolling*

Completely crowd-funded, Cecile Emeke has created quite an impression with her work. She is redefining what Black female writer/directors can bring to the table. And this is critical, especially from a Black European female. Just like Black women in the U.S., it is hella rare for Black women in Europe to bring their voices to the table. The excitement I have for Amma Asante and the success of her critically underrated (and underplayed) Belle only makes me hunger for stories about Black women across the pond. Emeke herself has some strong words about being tired of white filmmakers telling Black stories with a white gaze. This familiar complaint is even more searing especially with the release of Girlhood by French filmmaker Céline Sciamma. (You can read what Emeke has to say about that here.)

Ackee & Saltfish is a very important piece of work that should be signal boosted with viewership and financial support immediately. It has an authentic, playful, low-key coolness that I want to see more of. The two lead characters in the series, Michelle Tiwo (Olivia) and Vanessa Babirye (Rachel), are not contrived stereotypes, and are not dealing with the usual negative tropes ascribed to Black female characters (refer again to Michelle Tiwo’s words I quote at the beginning of this piece). They are carefree Black women just living their life.

Michelle Tiwo (Olivia) and Vanessa Babirye (Rachel) having a typical chat that revels in sharp verbal zingers.

Let me stress this: we hardly ever see Black women just dealing with themselves and their friendships without contrived outside interference. Every webisode centers on Olivia and Rachel just chilling within their friendship. Some viewers may mistake this for being a plot-less series (or may be reminded of the old American comedy Seinfeld being a show about “nothing”). The show hinges on subtle character-based humor. Olivia and Rachel are the plot. The conflict in Ackee & Saltfish is the differences in how Olivia and Rachel interact with one another. Olivia is the more assertive, outspoken realist, whereas Rachel is the more laid-back and soft-spoken one, often looking at her friend Olivia with an expression of incredulous wonder at the things she says. The friendship feels real to me, and the way Emeke films the series, the viewer may often feel like the third person in the room simply hanging out and listening to the two banter about Lauryn Hill tickets, bread backs, how one’s breath smells, or why Solange Knowles should adopt Olivia. The easy back and forth between the two actors may have the feel of improv, but their lines are scripted by Emeke.

Rachel's boyfriend prepared a dish of Ackee without Saltfish and Olivia has come undone over it. — Rachel’s boyfriend prepared a dish of Ackee without Saltfish and Olivia has come undone over it.

My favorite episode is about Olivia and Rachel hanging inside a carpet store because it’s raining and they don’t want to get wet. While trying to stay dry they have to contend with a faceless store owner who keeps pestering them with “Excuse me!” when he sees they are not there to buy carpet. Eventually they hear music playing in the store, and they start dancing, doing moves I’ve done myself (like The Butterfly). It’s silly and reminds me of the random moments I’ve had with my friends.

Olivia thinks she's the next Serena Williams. Rachel is not impressed. — Olivia thinks she’s the next Serena Williams. Rachel is not impressed.

Thus far, all the episodes (including the original short film) only show Olivia and Rachel interacting with each other. I’m hoping that as Emeke’s fan base grows, and she can secure more funding to make more episodes, that she will eventually allow us to see these two besties engage with other characters. I want the web series to be picked up and turned into a TV series with longer episodes. There are six episodes available to watch online. There is also a 10-minute “support” video where Emeke and her actors talk about the work they’re doing while encouraging viewers to give financial support with donations so they can create more content. (I have done that!)

The other project Emeke has in her creative arsenal is the intriguing documentary series called Strolling in the U.K., and Flâner in France. Emeke films young Black people strolling in their neighborhoods as they talk about what it’s like living in their respective spaces. Over nine episodes (about 10 minutes each) participants discuss race, class, gentrification, colorism, colonial legacies, Afrofuturism, what it means to be a Black British person, or a Black French person (or British Jamaican, or British Nigerian), Black mental health, sexuality, sexism, misogyny and the list goes on. The power of this documentary series for someone like me, a Black American, is the decentering of African Americans as the dominating cultural force in the African diaspora. I can listen to new Black voices who share the same transatlantic African history, but who have a differing perspective on how the African diaspora should connect based on where their ancestors landed after enslavement. They are echoing my Twitter call to hear from underrepresented voices from across the pond. Strolling is a Black cultural call and response, a digital “How your people doin’ over there Fam?” and they answer “Living like this, Sis.”

Strolling in the U.K. with young Black Brits in the Strolling documentary series. — Strolling in the U.K. with young Black Brits in the *Strolling* documentary series.

In Flâner, Emeke allows young Black French voices to be heard speaking their own truth. — In *Flaner*, Emeke allows young Black French voices to be heard speaking their own truth.

Emeke would like to take the Strolling series to other places outside of Europe, and I am here for it. How amazing it would be if she were able to travel to Japan, India, Brazil, Mexico, and Australia, Indonesia or parts of Canada to record unique voices with unique perspectives? People of African descent are everywhere, blended into other cultures with rich stories to tell the rest of the world. The Strolling series is also an opportunity for White and non-Black people of color to understand that there is not one monolithic “Black” experience. Thank goodness. That would be boring.

Friendship goals. Rachel and Olivia. More please.

P.S. I know you were wondering, here it is:

Ackee and Saltfish the dish. Google the recipe and enjoy.

Lisa Bolekaja co-hosts Hilliard Guess’ Screenwriters Rant Room, and her latest speculative short story “Three Voices” can be read in Uncanny Magazine. She can be found on Twitter @LisaBolekaja

‘Desmond’s’: Roots, Culture, and the Black U.K. Experience

What makes ‘Desmond’s’ unique is its layered and often nuanced portrayal of immigrant Afro-Europeans and their assimilating progeny that are more closely connected to their African roots than any African American TV show I’d ever seen. It also has a cross representation of class in Black British society by showing retired, working class, upper-middle class, college-educated, college-bound, and not college-bound Black people interacting together all the time. Not only are different classes intermingling, but there are also four series regulars who are white, and their whiteness is not the punchline of tired racial jokes.

Desmond's: DVD Collection Seasons1-4 — *Desmond’s*: DVD Collection Seasons 1-4

Written by staff writer Lisa Bolekaja as part of our theme week on Black Families.

The first Black family sitcom (with under-aged children) I ever saw on TV was Good Times. For the majority of Black Americans raised in the 70s, The Evans Family was supposedly America’s first real exposure to a Black nuclear family on television, albeit one in extreme poverty living in the projects. I distinctly remember my mother and step-father sitting down with me to watch people who looked like us eating grits, turnip greens, or ribs on an old second –hand kitchen table the way we ate our own regular southern foods. Black families were such a rarity on television that Good Times became event viewing–the original must-see-TV in my neighborhood. The Evans family wasn’t as rich as The Brady Bunch, but they did go through comedic shenanigans that were solved at the end of the episode.

At the time I wasn’t aware of the problems actors James Amos and Esther Rolle dealt with trying to focus more attention on the family and not the stereotyped antics of J.J. (White producers and white writers wanted to up the ante on the clownish, uneducated, slapstick behavior of J.J, who eventually became the main focus of the show.) Good Times still had a nostalgic place in my heart. I used to own a Jimmy Walker J.J. Evans doll where you pulled the string in his back, and the toy would yell “Dyn-o-mite!” back at you. Even today, if TV Land or Centric plays re-runs, I will stop and watch it. On the heels of Good Times, came What’s Happening? and of course, the 80s brought the NBC savior/juggernaut, The Cosby Show, the 90s The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and in the new millennium, The Bernie Mac Show, Everybody Hates Chris, and now Black-ish.

But I’m going to write something that may hurt some Black Americans’ feelings.

The best Black Family sitcom in my non-humble opinion is a little-known gem from across the pond that debuted in 1989. A show about a Black British/West Indian family running a barbershop in Peckham, London, it was called Desmond’s (created by Trix Worrell) and you need to buy it on DVD and watch it right now.

Desmond’s on the surface looks like any early 90s family comedy that served up plenty of corny jokes, familiar plots we’ve seen in similar family shows, and raucous studio audience laughter. What makes Desmond’s unique is its layered and often nuanced portrayal of immigrant Afro-Europeans and their assimilating progeny that are more closely connected to their African roots than any African American TV show I’d ever seen. It also has a cross representation of class in Black British society by showing retired, working class, upper-middle class, college-educated, college-bound, and not college-bound Black people interacting together all the time. Not only are different classes intermingling, but there are also four series regulars who are white, and their whiteness is not the punchline of tired racial jokes.

West Indians and West Africans on the same show. Porkpie (Ram John Holder), Desmond (Norman Beaton) and Matthew (Gyearbuor Asante)

I was lucky to catch Desmond’s in the early 90s when Black Entertainment Television (BET) started airing re-runs in the states. I was cooking a box of mac ‘n cheese and flipping channels when I saw some Black actors I didn’t recognize. I had to turn the volume up to hear their voices because their patois sounded like the Jamaican folks I partied with at my local reggae dancehall. I watched every single episode BET aired.

Desmond Ambrose (Norman Beaton) was a popular calypso singer back in his native Guyana who immigrated to England with his beloved wife, Shirley Ambrose (Carmen Munroe). Desmond’s plan was always to work and live in England and then retire back to his native Guyana and build his dream home. Once settled in Peckham, Desmond and Shirley had three socially mobile children who were part of a wave of first generation Guyanese/Black Brits.

Tony (Dominic Keating), Desmond Ambrose (Norman Beaton0 and Shirley Ambrose (Carmen Munroe) — Tony (Dominic Keating), Desmond Ambrose (Norman Beaton) and Shirley Ambrose (Carmen Munroe)

Shirley Ambrose has spent more than half her life in Peckham, and has no desire to return to Guyana. Her children are British, and she often fusses with Desmond about not sharing his dream of returning back home. Home is with her children in this new country. Their oldest son Michael (Geoff Francis) is a bank manager, a Buppie, and social climber. He fancies himself cultured, classy, and sometimes above his West Indian Roots. The middle child, Gloria (Kim Walker) is a college student, fashionista, and later in the series a professional writer who always calls Michael out on his pretentious behavior. Then there’s the youngest son Sean (Justin Pickett, my favorite), the first black teen geek and computer coder I’d ever seen on TV. What makes Sean special is that he is a computer whiz without being the cliché nerd, and he is a rapper and a D.J. He is smart, cool, and respectful of his parents and culture. Imagine Will Smith’s Fresh Prince combined with Carlton sans the corniness of both characters and you get an authentic Sean. So refreshing.

Sean (Justin Pickett) explaining coding to his father Desmond on those big ass old school desk tops in the 90's. — Sean (Justin Pickett) explaining coding to his father Desmond on those big ass old school desk tops in the 90s.

Desmond’s takes place inside a barbershop in a sometimes rough working-class neighborhood. The Ambrose family (without Michael) resides in an apartment above the shop, and three of their regular friends (and occasional customers) hang out there most of the day with them. One regular is Desmond’s Guyanese childhood friend and former band mate Porkpie (Ram John Holder). Another regular is Lee (Robbie Gee), a boxer and unofficial adopted son who often peddles goods inside and outside the shop. Still another drop-in is a West African from Gambia named Matthew (Gyearbuor Asante) who brings in his African culture and a grand sense of African pride. Matthew is also a university student who never seems to ever finish his studies, although he has been a student for many years. What I enjoy about Matthew is a new view of African characters. Often in Black American shows (especially the early TV shows in the 70s) African characters are made fun of, whether it is their names, food, or skin color. They are often depicted as being poor and overly grateful to be away from their homelands. Not Matthew. He has a superior air about him and comes from a wealthy family. He’s always chiding the West Indians that they need to respect their elder culture (Africa), while at the same time giving off the impression that he is delighted that West Indians have retained so many Africanisms in their own New World culture.

Matthew sharing an old African saying with Desmond, Shirley and Sean.

Desmond’s allowed me a peek into the world of my Black cultural cousins who wound up in England instead of the States. I learned West Indian history, I saw how Blacks over there also code-switched their language when they spoke among themselves and among outsiders. One minute the family would speak British Standard Vernacular English, and the next minute, flip into Guyanese patois, or even Black British Rude Boy Slang. This code-switching reminded me of my own people in the States where many of us speak Standard American English at work, African American Vernacular English (AAVE) at home or among friends, and can also slip into Southern Creole languages like Gullah (Geechee), or New Orleans Creole.

While Desmond’s was re-running in America, I was listening to a lot of British neo-soul music like Soul II Soul, Sade, Loose Ends, Tricky, Omar, The Young Disciples, and especially the songs of Caron Wheeler the singer whose voice put Soul II Soul’s sound on the map. Listening to Caron Wheeler’s album U.K. Blak, which was the title track, I was given a mini-history of how so many new West Indian immigrants landed in English ports. Caron Wheeler sang:

Many moons ago
We were told the streets were paved with gold
So our people came by air and sea
To earn a money they could keep
Then fly back home
Sadly this never came to be
When we learned we had just been invited
To clean up after the war
Back in ’49 never intended to stay here
Who could afford to leave these shores

UK Blak, ending the silence now
UK Blak, letting you know that we’re about

The opening credit sequence of Desmond’s shows actual black and white film footage of Blacks from the Caribbean on large British ships sailing into English ports after WWII. I watched Desmond’s, listened to Caron Wheeler sing some history to me, and felt an immediate connection to the characters on the show. I love Desmond’s more than most popular Black American shows I grew up with. It tells me more about my own history and roots from the viewpoint of my figurative cousins across the big water. Think about that for a minute. Every African American from enslaved America was merely one random port stop from being British, Brazilian, a Caribbean Islander, or a North American. Like Desmond’s people, African Americans migrated too, going North and West within America, leaving family back home in the deep south. Like Desmond’s people, we have strong roots in the south that some of us want to cut off and forget, and some of us have actually returned to retire there. A reverse migration. A returning to the old culture that sustained so many of us in the dark days from the Civil Rights struggles and back beyond that.

The younger siblings, Gloria and Sean, showed me that there was a cultural exchange of Black music and styles from the U.S. From the posters on their bedroom walls of Ice Cube, The Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff, Whitney Houston, and mentions of Michael and Janet Jackson, to the Malcolm X hats and T-Shirts that marked the debut of Spike Lee’s X. Rap music mixed into the ragamuffin sounds of Black England. The cultural cousins have been keeping in touch. As young Blacks in the States were calling out sexism and homophobia in rap culture, an episode of Desmond’s demonstrated that it was an issue in British rap too. Sean has to push back on his best friend Spider for selling rap/dancehall mash-up music that is sexist, misogynistic, and homophobic, making Sean’s openly gay university buddy Bernie feel uncomfortable around the school. Sean demands a safer space for his gay and female friends, even if it means cutting Spider out of his inner circle.

Gloria (Kim Walker) and Sean listen to their father impart West Indian wisdom to their Bicultural upbringing.

The show itself is available for purchase on DVD, but for only Seasons 1-4. A few years ago I was hunting for any copies of the series last two seasons. Luckily, I found Seasons 5 and 6 on YouTube. Desmond’s was a show that could’ve gone on for at least three more seasons. Unfortunately, the star of the show, Norman Beaton, died on a trip to visit his family in Guyana. There was an attempt to keep a part of the Desmond’s legacy alive with a spin-off series called Porkpie with Ram John Holder, but it was short-lived, lasting only two seasons.

Actor Norman Beaton (Desmond Ambrose) passed away after Season 6.

Ram John Holder was given his own spin-off series called "Porkpie" — Ram John Holder was given his own spin-off series called “Porkpie”

Just to entice any potential new fans, you will spot some familiar faces in some of the episodes. The very cute white barber/ stylist Tony was played by Dominic Keating who later went on to star on the TV series Star Trek: Enterprise.

A brother-in-law of Gambian forever-student Matthew was played by Joseph Marcell, who later gained American fame playing Geoffrey the butler on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

And for some real fun, if you watch an early episode called Veronica, you will see the child actress Amma Assante who grew up to direct the phenomenal movie Belle from last year.

Bet you didn't know Amma Asante, director of "Belle" was a child actress who appeared on "Desmond's" — Bet you didn’t know Amma Asante, director of *Belle,* was a child actress who appeared on *Desmond’s*

Do yourself a favor. Come ‘round the shop and listen to some Soca. There will be tea and toast and good times. I promise.