The Academy’s White Noise: Silencing the Lions

I said that I had hoped this year would be different. However, when the Academy announced its nominations, I was not surprised.

Black men and women, organized by character type, who have won Academy Awards. This is an updated infographic after Nyong'o's win last year. We won't get to add "Historical Civil Rights Icon" as a category in 2015.    Click to enlarge.
Black men and women, organized by character type, who have won Academy Awards. This is an updated infographic after Nyong’o’s win last year. We won’t get to add “Historical Civil Rights Icon” as a category in 2015.   Click to enlarge.

 

Written by Leigh Kolb as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

Two years ago, after Django Unchained was largely snubbed at the Oscars (compared to the Golden Globes), I looked at the history of the Black actors/characters who were awarded by the Academy over the years. Last year, I revisited that history as 12 Years a Slave dominated the awards circuit.

It’s fairly clear what roles Hollywood is most comfortable with: for Black characters, passivity, tired stereotypes, and villainy get the highest awards. Complex, powerful Black characters–especially those who appear threatening to white supremacy in some way–typically get passed over.

I hoped this year would be different. This year, institutionalized, implicit American racism seeped out of the pores of American cities and psyches post-Ferguson. This year, Ava DuVernay directed Selma, 5o years after the Selma to Montgomery march that led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act. The film is brilliant in its own right–DuVernay’s direction and David Oyelowo’s portrayal of Martin Luther King Jr. are incredible. Certainly the power of the film within the historical context would make the Academy sit upright and give credit where credit is due.

Instead, we got more of the same. Selma was recognized widely in Golden Globe nominations–best picture, best director, best actor, best original song (John Legend and Common’s “Glory,” which took home the award). And then, as always, the Academy turned up its white nose. While it’s up for best picture and and original song, DuVernay and Oyelowo were passed over.

At Rolling Stone, Peter Travers said,

“Why am I calling this year’s Oscars, on February 22nd, the ‘Caucasian Consensus,’ when Selma is one of the eight nominees for Best Picture? Because that landmark film about Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1965 civil-rights march has only one other nomination, for Best Song. Not one person of color appears among the 20 nominees for acting. Apparently, the Academy thought it gave last year when it awarded 12 Years a Slave the gold. The message from white voters? Don’t get uppity.”

Not one person of color.

I said that I had hoped this year would be different. However, when the Academy announced its nominations, I was not surprised.

I had to drive over an hour to watch Selma on the big screen, because none of the theaters in the small towns around me screened it (and they still haven’t).

This happened 20 minutes from my home.

The Voting Rights Act was gutted in 2013.

Writers had to defend DuVernay’s portrayal of an imperfect L.B.J.

In an interview, late author Chinua Achebe quoted the following proverb: “Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” This proverb perfectly, painfully illustrates Hollywood’s–and America’s–hegemonic forces at work.

The hunters write history. The hunters glorify themselves. The hunters’ history infiltrates itself into the very fabric of our cultural narrative, so we’re only comfortable with seeing the complexities of the hunters, and the simplicity of the lions.

Selma challenged that narrative. Oyelowo–who felt destined to play King–and DuVernay dared to glorified the lions.

And the hunters simply wouldn’t hear of it.

Oyelowo and DuVernay
Oyelowo and DuVernay

 


See also at Bitch FlicksThe Academy: Kind to White Men, Just Like HistoryRace and the Academy: Black Characters, Stories, and the Danger of DjangoCaptain Uhura Snub: The Politics of Ava DuVernay’s Oscar 


Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature, and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri. 

 

Black Masculinity in ‘Lee Daniels’ The Butler’

Lee Daniels’ The Butler
Written by Erin Tatum.
My experience going to see Lee Daniels’ The Butler made an impression on me even before the film started playing. I don’t think I have ever been to a movie where every single preview featured a protagonist of color. It reminded me just how whitewashed Hollywood is. Why are films about people of color only marketed through the platform of other films whose primary audience is anticipated to be people of color? Maybe I’m naive – I had forgotten how big of a factor racial demographics are for advertising. All of the previews were spectacular and left me wanting to see more. It’s a shame that these gems don’t get more publicity.
Lee Daniels’ The Butler is a tall order to say the least: it runs a staggering 132 minutes and spans eight presidential administrations with an all-star cast including Forest Whitaker, Oprah Winfrey, Mariah Carey (blink and you’ll miss her), David Oyelowo, Terrence Howard, and Cuba Gooding Jr., just to name a few. It’s to the point where one article calls the film a “cameo roulette.” The amount of history covered is absolutely breathtaking in scope. The script can feel uneven at times because of this, especially in the beginning. You might spend 20 minutes in one year and then cover the next five years in 10 minutes. I applaud the tenacity of the casting director, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cast changes to reflect characters aging. Of course it is a little ridiculous that 52-year-old Forest Whitaker plays Cecil from approximately age 25 into his 90s, but the magic of makeup does wonders. The attention to detail in this film is meticulous, from the clothing to the decor to the hairstyles. The differences and subtleties of each presidential personality are also captured thoroughly even if briefly. There is even a particularly funny scene where Dwight Eisenhower gruffly asks Cecil for… toilet paper assistance… as his beagles sit loyally by the toilet.
Cecil and Gloria.
At its core, the film chronicles the cross-generational struggle to define black identity and masculinity in a racist American society. Little Cecil learns that subservience is the best policy after his father is shot dead for uttering a simple monotone “hey” at the ruthless cotton farm owner, Thomas (Alex Pettyfer), who had likely just raped his mother. Thomas’ elderly mother (Vanessa Redgrave) takes pity on Cecil and allows him to become a domestic servant, where he quickly adapts to being neither seen nor heard. These skills come in handy when he leaves the South and begins serving wealthy white clientele at various DC hotels, leading to his recruitment as a White House butler. Before starting the job, he is reminded that “there are no politics in the White House.” He thus resolves to continue to be painstakingly neutral on any potential political conflict, even if he is explicitly asked for his opinion. His commitment to his career soon borders on obsessive as he works long days and nights, leaving his marriage to wife Gloria (Winfrey) in a perpetual state of decay. Although he watches her battle alcoholism and strongly suspects her affair with the neighbor, Cecil’s commitment to family values and tradition never wavers.
Gloria is unhappy and has an affair.
Cecil’s attitude of racial uplift through hard work starkly contrasts to the restlessness of his older son Lewis (Oyelowo). He is shown to be scornful of and perhaps embarrassed by his father’s position from the time he is a teenager, a disconnect that is all the more exacerbated when he begins to participate in nonviolent civil rights protests while in college. The scenes of the diner sit-in and the Freedom Rides are some of the most emotionally resonant of the film. You can actually feel the burning hatred of their attackers and a few well-timed close-ups ensure that you’re up close and personal to some of their most inhumane and humiliating tactics. One girl has ketchup smeared on her face. Lewis has hot coffee thrown in his eyes. On that note, I’ve never been more disgusted by saliva. You watch one of the attackers lean in and spit a loogie on the cheek of one of the girls protesting and it is vile. Lewis continues to participate in the civil rights efforts despite multiple arrests, much to his parents’ chagrin. Cecil remarks that he “doesn’t understand how Lewis can’t see that the president is going to make things better for us,” particularly after witnessing slow but steady changes in racial policy.
Cecil and Gloria with Lewis (right) and Charlie (left)
What we are witnessing here is friction in the generation gap over ideas about the best means to achieve racial uplift. Cecil espouses the belief in assimilation through passivity and diligence. He grew up in an era where discrimination was benign and silence was survival. In contrast, Lewis believes that discrimination means disrespect and silence equates to, dare I say, emasculation. When Lewis’ generation came of age in the 60s, what was really at stake was the question of the reputation and respectability of black masculinity. Cecil views his way of life as making the best of the limited parameters available for the fulfillment of black manhood, whereas Lewis perceives such servitude as a shameful complacency with histories of racial power dynamics and as an insult to black integrity. In what is arguably one of the most dramatic moments of the film, Cecil snaps on Lewis and his hippie girlfriend Carol (Yaya Alafia) essentially for being apathetic flower children with no respect for the sacrifices of their parents, prompting Lewis to call him an Uncle Tom. This insult provokes an epic slap from Gloria and I must say Oprah has one hell of a backhand. The freeze between father and son becomes permanent and only deepens after Lewis fails to attend his younger brother Charlie’s funeral following his death in the Vietnam War.
Cecil confronts Lewis after he is first sentenced to jail.
Inevitably, the ideological rifts between them soften over the decades. Cecil finally gets the recognition he deserves when he successfully advocates for equal compensation and promotion opportunities for black White House employees during the Reagan Administration (it’s appalling that it took that long). The Reagans invite him and Gloria to the state dinner as guests, but something isn’t sitting right with Cecil and he finds himself increasingly dissatisfied with his job. He decides to patch things up with Lewis and joins him in protesting the imprisonment of Mandela, even getting a taste of Lewis’ life by being arrested and briefly incarcerated. As an old man, Cecil retrospectively feels a great sense of pride for Lewis’ contributions to the civil rights and black power movement. Masculinity is therefore reaffirmed as having the persistence to make your mark on society in the face of great adversity.
Things come full circle as Cecil and Gloria eagerly campaign for the election of Obama in 2008. Gloria passes away, leaving Lewis as Cecil’s last surviving family. Father and son watch the election results with tears in their eyes. Cecil is invited to meet the new president and is warmly greeted by the butler, who is also an African-American man. As Cecil walks stiffly but proudly to meet Obama, there is a definitive sense of collective triumph. Eight decades later, black masculinity is allegedly getting the respect it deserves. Although masculine privilege remains unquestioned and racial dynamics will always be a work in progress, the poignancy of the ending does bring a smile to your face.

Red Tails: Historic, Entertaining, Altogether Lacking Women…and Why that Is Okay

Red Tails (2012)

I don’t see movies in the theatre very often. I know, for someone who co-founded and writes for a film site to say that is tantamount to treason. But, it’s true: there has to be a good reason for me to plunk down ten bucks (I’m a starving writer, friends!) to sit in a movie theatre and put up with texting & talking teens and coughing & sneezing strangers, when I’d usually rather be in the comfort of my own living room.
Here are some examples of what brings me to the theatre:

  • A movie is nominated for some serious awardage.
  • A movie tells a story about women (other than ladies getting hitched), or is told by women.
  • A movie’s cinematography demands the big-screen, public experience.
  • My movie dollars are political speech.

It’s for the last two reasons that I saw Red Tails last weekend in the theatre. First, a whiz-bang action movie involving fighter pilots in WWII is definitely more fun in the theatre than on my couch. It’s the kind of movie in which you want the crowd’s gasps and applause at moments of high tension and release. You want the visceral experience of flight and fear, loss and victory. Second, since Red Tails is the first big-budget Hollywood action movie featuring an all-Black cast—and is both written and directed by Black men—I wanted to help send movie executives a message. See, as I pointed out last week in a preview post, producer George Lucas couldn’t get any company to distribute it—they feared the film would have no foreign market (which is where Hollywood currently makes a huge portion of its revenues). It took Lucas decades to bring the film from idea to reality.
So, the story behind the film means a lot to me. In case I’m not perfectly clear, it’s a damn shame that in 2012 Hollywood is too fearful, too conservative, too—frankly—racist to embrace a film about bona fide World War II heroes who happen to be Black. And don’t give me that argument that movies about the Tuskegee Airmen have already been made.
But on to the actual movie, and to a pleasant surprise. 
Although “action” isn’t my favorite genre, I can say without reservation that I really enjoyed Red Tails. Even though there are no women in the movie, aside from an Italian love interest and a brief appearance by her mother (the two speak to each other in untranslated Italian, but it’s safe to assume they talk about a man, so the movie fails the Bechdel Test)—more on that later. The movie is exciting, entertaining, funny at moments, deeply sad at others, and altogether engaging. Plus, as it’s based on the real experience of the Tuskegee Airmen, you might learn something while being entertained (although U.S. moviegoers are often portrayed as only wanting the latter, I suspect most of us actually want both). 
Cuba Gooding, Jr. as Major Emanuelle Stance, sans pipe
The style of the movie is an homage to ‘40s and ‘50s hokey action flicks, so you get some corny lines (and some hilarious white-dude dialogue–imagine in a robotic voice: “I sure hope we meet up with those Red Tails again.”), stock characters, clear lines between good and evil, and affected performances—especially from Cuba Gooding, Jr. and His Pipe. Even if you’re not familiar with the movies being imitated, nothing stands out as particularly peculiar and, compared with the majority of Hollywood action flicks, the movie—even though it’s about war and defeating the German military—is rather innocent. Innocent in the way that you kind of hope young men the world over will watch it, and pass on some others.
Now, let me say more about why I’m okay with this movie—and with writing about it on a site that focuses on women in media and almost daily reports on how woefully underrepresented women are—leaving out women. It’s true that some movies are about men—particularly films about men in historic wars who are in combat positions. That’s not to say that war doesn’t strongly impact women, but for the majority of the 20th century, combat was done by men. Do we already have a plethora of films about men in combat? Yes, of course. But there are still untold stories, and although anyone familiar with the history of Black men in the U.S. should know about the Tuskegee Airmen, the sad fact remains that it’s not an often-told story in the nation’s history. Further, including women in this movie (again, there is a female love interest who appears in a rather common and predictable storyline) would detract—and distract—from the central story. If a sequel is, in fact, made—and it takes place when the men return home and are treated as second-class citizens in the country they fought for—it should include women. 
Further, if you compare this action movie with basically any other action movie in recent memory, one important element is missing: rampant misogyny. Perhaps the film would’ve been betraying its style if it included the kind of talk and images about women that are so common today, but in this regard it was completely refreshing. My feminist ire wasn’t raised a single time (though the romantic subplot might’ve drawn an eye roll). Perhaps that reveals more about me than the actual film, but the basic respect for women, even when they were almost completely absent, was a relief.
As happy as I am that Red Tails was made and did well its opening weekend (landing at the number 2 box office spot), it does bother me a bit that the historic element of the making of the film—with its Black writers, director, and stars—was all in the name of war propaganda. That’s not to belittle or reduce the accomplishments of the real-life Tuskegee Airmen. But the politics of it all reminds me a bit of The Hurt Locker. More specifically, director Katherine Bigelow was the first woman to win a Best Director Academy Award (and only the fourth woman ever nominated), but she had to make a very masculine and male-centered war film to achieve that level of respect and acclaim. Would a movie about another subject receive the same amount of attention and box-office success as Red Tails?
cast of Red Tails
Red Tails is far from the first film to feature a Black cast, but as someone on Twitter asked us, is it the first all-Black film that white people care about? In other words, we as a culture are very good at making period pieces and then looking at them, with self-righteousness, shaking our heads at how foolish and awful people were back then, and simultaneously congratulating ourselves for being so much better. But, more often than not, “back then” looks more like “present day” than most of us want to admit. (One recent outrageous example: in Newt Gingrich’s South Carolina primary victory speech last weekend, one crowd member reportedly shouts “String him up!” in reference to our current U.S. President.) 
We should absolutely honor the heroes of our past, like the Tuskegee Airmen, but let’s not forget heroes like them exist today and have to face different but still very real demons when they come home. I, for one, would like to see more of those movies.
Rotten Tomatoes ranks Red Tails as Rotten, with a 33% rating (although the audience rating is a positive 73%). What did you think of the movie?