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‘Living Single’ and ‘Girlfriends’: The Roots of Sex Positivity for Black Women on TV

There were never any shows that centered happy, single, child-free Black women that prioritized good sex as part of successful living. That is until two television shows came on the scene, ‘Living Single’ (1993-1998, created by Yvette Lee Bowser) and ‘Girlfriends’ (2000-2007, created by Mara Brock Akil).

Women in the African diaspora have had a hard time claiming healthy ownership of their own bodies. From slavery to the present, Black women (and Black girls) have endured the stigma of having their bodies shamed and sexualized in ways that have been physically, psychologically, and spiritually damaging (see the history of Saartjie “Sarah” Baartman). They had not been afforded healthy representations of Black female sexuality. The Black female body has been viewed as naturally wanton, lascivious, or “fast-tailed” because of sexual exploitation during enslavement. If the sexual revolution of the ’60s and ’70s liberated White women to explore their bodies with abandon, this sex positivity didn’t free Black women from the baggage of their inhumane body history.

Historically in U.S. film and television, Black women have never been allowed to have sexual agency without stigma. If Black women actually showed up in the media, typically she was boxed into several known stereotypes— the Mammy (the asexual being who fixes white people problems while neglecting her own), the Sapphire (angry Black woman or Sassy Black woman), Tragic Mulatto (the light-skinned Black woman who can’t seem to fit into the White world because of the stain of Black blood), or a Jezebel (the hypersexual, loose woman, known today as a THOT—that hoe over there), and even the Respectable Negro (a Black woman who is married/widowed, often pious, and successful based on selfless motherhood. She often places judgment on other Black women who don’t fit her mold).

From the earliest days of television featuring Black characters, shows like Beulah, The Amos ‘n Andy Show, Julia, Sanford and Son, Good Times, The Jeffersons, and right on through Gimme A Break, and 227, Black women have played riffs of the traditional stereotypes. The emergence of Claire Huxtable, the successful attorney and mother of five children on The Cosby Show, fashioned a new type of Black woman we hadn’t seen before (although low-key, she could be sassy and gave off a whiff of subtle respectability in some episodes), and yet she was still bound up in family life. There were never any shows that centered happy, single, child-free Black women that prioritized good sex as part of successful living. That is until two television shows came on the scene, Living Single (1993-1998, created by Yvette Lee Bowser) and Girlfriends (2000-2007, created by Mara Brock Akil).

These two shows revolutionized Black female sexuality on television by giving Black women sexual agency without falling back on tired tropes. They also opened the door to later shows featuring Black single women who embraced sex as a part of good living without stigma (Half and Half, Single Ladies, and Scandal). Two characters in particular stood out from both series that became the precursors for sexually carefree Black women:

Maxine Shaw (Erika Alexander) and Lynn Searcy (Persia White)

Living Single

Living Single followed a group of four female friends and their two male neighbors living in a Brooklyn brownstone apartment. They were upwardly mobile in their careers as lawyers, magazine owners, stockbrokers, and independent building maintenance handymen. The show gravitated around rap star Queen Latifah’s character, Khadijah James, and each week found the crew in various complications related to their jobs, love lives, and each other. It was rare to see a show dominated by Black professionals. Finding “Mr. Right” is often the end goal for women-centered shows, but thankfully Living Single didn’t spend too much time having the women lament about not having found “the one.” One character, Régine (Kim Fields), was painted as a gold-digger, but she was the only one who had a hint of desperation in terms of having a relationship based on material comfort. Khadijah’s cousin Synclaire (Kim Coles) was the naïve, sweet-natured friend who dripped with positivity and wholesomeness. But it was Maxine, the high-powered attorney who was the standout favorite.

From her shaved head with braids, gorgeous dark skin, and power suits, Maxine had healthy sexual relationships without strings. She dated often, and was typically the one to cut relationships short when men wanted more serious (and more monogamous) relations. Some women who watched the show faithfully wore their hair like Maxine as well as imitating her fashion sense. She lived her life on her own terms (she was not a roommate with the other women because she had her own place), and she had the income to do as she pleased. She was verbally assertive, and was quick to challenge men, especially her epic battles with Khadijah’s neighbor and friend, stockbroker Kyle Baker (T.C. Carson). Their verbal spats underscored the sexual tension and attraction they really had for each other. When they get drunk one night and slept together, they choose to keep the relationship a secret, with Maxine pushing to keep the hot sex in the realm of platonic fuck buddies.

Unlike Black women from previous TV shows, pleasure and freedom was the goal for Maxine. This didn’t mean that marriage or motherhood, or some form of connection wasn’t a possibility for her, it just wasn’t the ONLY goal in her life. Her career and her friendships meant just as much as having a man, or dreaming of a family. After finally revealing their sexual connection to their friends, Kyle accepts a job in London and asks Maxine to join him. Kyle was the best sex partner Maxine ever had. He was successful, gorgeous, and her equal in every way. And yet Maxine turned him down because she valued her autonomy and wasn’t willing to give up her life and lifestyle to follow him. She didn’t try to convince him to stay (even though she really wanted him), and they parted as lovers who respected each other’s decision, even though it was a difficult one. Maxine had such a sense of self that she allowed her dream man to leave without a fight. That was a revelation to the core audience.

Unfortunately, in the last season of the series, Maxine was shown to miss Kyle, and had the wild idea that her life would have meaning if she had a baby. She goes to a sperm bank and inadvertently gets inseminated with Kyle’s sperm. In the series finale she reconciles with Kyle and we are left to believe that they will be happy raising their baby together. It is a cliché happy ending, especially since Maxine had been presented as the ultimate carefree Black woman. However, the fans loved it, and on some level, it was nice to see her get the partner she deserved, one who was as sexually uninhibited as she was, and one who respected her choice to be that way. She owned her beautiful Black body. Maxine offered Black women watching the show an opportunity to embrace their sexual sides with humor and much needed positivity.

Girlfriends

Much like the template of Living Single, Girlfriends followed the humorous trials and tribulations of four young success driven Black women living in Los Angeles. In this world, attorney Joan Clayton (Tracee Ellis Ross) was the main protagonist who set the pace for her three friends– Maya Wilkes (Golden Brooks) her Compton hood girl personal assistant, Toni Childs (Jill Marie Jones) her college roommate and a high end real estate agent with a taste for expensive things, and Lynn Searcy (Persia White), another former college roommate with several post graduate degrees and counting, but no real job because of her unsettled bohemian lifestyle.

All the women on Girlfriends were sexually active and enjoyed good sex (although Joan had a ninety day waiting period for her beaus prior to sex which became an issue with some), but it was Lynn who was the most sexually experimental. She openly discussed her sex toys and personal sex tricks (The “Lynn Spin”), ménage à trois, group sex, sex swings/chairs, and same-gender hook-ups. There was no sexual experience she hadn’t tried or was afraid to engage in. She even had her own fuck buddy arrangement with the clique’s mutual male friend, the lawyer William Dent (Reggie Hayes).

Lynn essentially stepped up the sexual freedom of Maxine on Living Single, and overall, the women of Girlfriends were a little more nuanced in their performances than the characters of Living Single (except for Maya, who took some time to lower the hood shtick she displayed in earlier episodes). Both Maxine and Lynn brought a refreshing and openly accepted sexuality that had never been present in Black female television characters. These two women were the ones viewers like me wanted to sit around with holding glasses of wine and listening to the details of their sexual exploits.

None of the women from either show carried the stigmas of the past that haunted the Black female body. They revealed to the world the Black Female Gaze in sexual matters which upset some critics (including Bill Cosby, and Spike Lee who accused them of being oversexed embarrassments). Like most new shows, it did take time for Living Single and Girlfriends to hit their stride, and each had their corny struggle moments to figure out their voice. However, in the end, they brought forth Black women with positive and healthy sexual pursuits. They left the sexual baggage and shaming in the past in order to present Black female sexuality in a healthy new light.

Staff writer Lisa Bolekaja co-hosts Hilliard Guess’ Screenwriters Rant Room, and her latest speculative fiction short story “Three Voices” can be read in Uncanny Magazine. She divides her time between California and Italy. She can be found on Twitter @LisaBolekaja lurking in the hashtags #SaturdayNightSciFi and #FridayNightHorror

‘Bessie’: Unapologetically Black, Female, and Queer

‘Bessie’ is one of the rare mainstream films that shows an unapologetically Black, female and queer protagonist. That alone is groundbreaking in an otherwise straightforward biopic.

Written by Lisa Bolekaja.

See-line woman
Wiggle wiggle
Turn like a cat
Wink at a man
And he wink back

Now child
See-line woman
Empty his pockets
And wreck his days
Make him love her
And she’ll fly away

Writer/director Dee Rees opens the film Bessie with the Nina Simone classic “See-Line Woman” playing as the camera takes in Queen Latifah in close-up, her face drenched in resplendent blue lighting. The color, framing and music told me from jump that the narrative would be coming from a place of womanist Blackness. Nina Simone, the High Priestess of Soul, was signifying musically the proper introduction to Bessie Smith, the woman known in her day as the Empress of the Blues.

The story of Bessie Smith has been a long time coming, and it was quite timely that she should be given her due just a few days after the passing of the Blues legend B.B. King. Most people know very little about Bessie Smith, and it is almost a given that biopics are never truly satisfying, typically following a rise to fame and falling into trouble narrative. All I wanted to know was, would Rees be true to the highly unorthodox life of Smith? Or would we be subjected to a safe narrative that tip-toed around the raunchy, bisexual and profane realness of the Bessie Smith I read about in college?

Rees kept it real. Bessie is one of the rare mainstream films that shows an unapologetically Black, female and queer protagonist. That alone is groundbreaking in an otherwise straightforward biopic. Within ten minutes of the film, we see Bessie fooling around with a male paramour whom she beats up after he gets a little too fresh for her tastes, and then we see her in bed with her longtime female lover, Lucille (the gorgeous Tika Sumpter). It comes off natural, not some forbidden plot device to be used later to create conflict. It is what it is, and Bessie doesn’t waste time fretting over it. When she jumps on a train owned by Ma Rainey (Mo’Nique) to beg for a singing job and observes Ma interacting with her own female lover who prances around comfortably topless, Ma asks her straight out, “Watchu know about it?” Bessie tells her, “Same thing you do.” And that is that.

It was very powerful to see Black queer women openly affectionate with one another, and openly sexual in private spaces, especially for that time period. Black queer women, hardly ever get to see themselves on film without the narrative making them act secretive of fearful. Throughout the viewing, I kept waiting for Bessie’s bisexuality to become a big issue with her family, her band, or even her husband (and many lovers). It didn’t.

Ma Rainey takes Bessie under her wing, teaches her the ropes and how to sing the Blues to make the audience want more. She even teaches Bessie how to dress as a man and enjoy the thrill of smoking and gambling with men dressed that way. It reminded me of the stories I read that told of private clubs where women could be gender fluid and embrace masculine expressions without fear of bodily harm from violent homophobes.

Black love in all forms is front and center, and a new love comes in the form of Jack Gee (Michael Kenneth Williams being fierce and nuanced in this role), a man who sees Bessie perform, and goes to her hotel uninvited. As Bessie lies in bed, still in her nightgown and headscarf, her brother and business partner Clarence (Tory Kittles) watching her back, Jack Gee tells her his personal stats and proclaims without haste, “I’m auditioning to be your man.” He’s bold as brass and Bessie eventually marries him, and keeps her girlfriend Lucille too.

Jack seems very much Bessie’s equal, and they do go toe to toe with their hard loving, hard fighting and hard drinking. It’s a fragile relationship that hinges on Bessie’s Achilles heel, which is a bottomless hunger that stems from the loss of a mother at an early age, and the dysfunctional relationship she has with her older sister Viola (Khandi Alexander). Viola used to lock up food in the family refrigerator and beat on Bessie. This back-story told in flashbacks is the key to Bessie’s insatiable need for more success, more money, more lovers, and more control over her family. She eventually buys a large house without telling Jack, bringing everyone (including her sister Viola and Lucille) under one roof. She ignores her husband’s complaints and forces her will on everyone. She will live the life she felt was denied her, and even brings home a little boy on Thanksgiving to be her and Jack’s son. It’s Bessie’s world and everyone is expected to fall in line and gravitate around her.

The best part of Bessie is how she handles the intrusion of the White Gaze on the storyline. Bessie’s world seems insulated from white intrusion, and this allows us to focus on the Black characters just being themselves without having to focus on the known and ubiquitous racism. Whiteness does seep in through the colorism issues that Bessie encounters with the infamous paper bag test (Black performers, even in Black entertainment spaces of the period, did not hire darker skinned Black women who were not lighter than a paper bag). White intrusion is most prominent in two scenes, one involving the Klan showing up at one of Bessie’s performances, and the other at a prominent white patron’s home.

In the Klan sequence, Bessie simply walks outside and cusses the white men out and chases them away. She doesn’t quake in her boots or shrink behind the protection of Black men. She then turns around and goes back to performing, winning over the respect of the frightened Black men and women who were prepared to run away from White terrorism intruding onto Black space. In the home of Carl Van Vechten (Oliver Platt), a controversial patron of Negro artists whom he finds crude, primitive, and folksy, Bessie turns the White Gaze (and cultural appropriation) on its head by being true to her unfiltered Blackness. When a white woman puts her hands on Bessie in an attempt to hug her and says, “I heard that you were wild,” Bessie pushes her away and says, “Get the fuck off me.” Bessie in one fell swoop refused to let the white woman turn her body into a commodity. She turns on Carl Van Vechten too when he tells her about his book Nigger Heaven. This is a tremendous sequence because Bessie doesn’t allow the White characters to hijack the narrative and center the story on Bessie having to impress Van Vechten to get something from him for her survival. Bessie doesn’t give a fuck about anyone in that room except for herself and the two lovers she brought with her. In fact, Bessie doesn’t even care what Langston Hughes (Jeremie Harris) has to say when he tries to warn her about Van Vechten’s fetishizing of Black culture and Black people.

I found it fascinating watching Hughes take in Bessie’s behavior towards Van Vechten, because Hughes had to depend on White patrons much like Van Vechten to supplement his income in order to write and survive. Bessie didn’t. She had her voice and she had regular working class Black people who came out to see her when she travelled. Eventually she made records, (there’s the hilarious moment where she goes to a Black record company called Black Swan Records and discovers the company isn’t as Black as she thought, and that she is too Black for them), and was able to gain new revenue from vinyl sales. Bessie never had to water down her personality to make White folks feel comfortable. Unfortunately Hughes and other writers of their time (like my favorite Harlem Renaissance writer, Zora Neale Hurston) had to walk a thin line of creating the art they wanted without offending Whites who funded that art. It still happens today. Recently, poet and Buzzfeed Literary Editor Saeed Jones wrote about this same issue with his recent piece Self-Portrait Of The Artist As Ungrateful Black Writer.

Bessie is a good primer movie for people who know nothing about Bessie Smith, and it is a breakthrough performance for Queen Latifah. The cast is flawless and I expect Emmy nods for Queen Latifah, Mo’Nique and Khandi Alexander. (Khandi can do anything and just be dynamite. Period.) It was a pleasure watching unapologetic Black, female, queerness. I hope HBO takes more chances on projects like this. Somebody get Dee Rees financing for a new movie stat. It is maddening to think that she hasn’t had an opportunity since Pariah in 2011 to show us her voice. She has more radical stories to tell. I can feel it.

‘Bessie’: A Mainstream Portrait of Black Queer Women by a Black Queer Woman

The difference between ‘Bessie’ and the similar bio-pics about Black performers of the Jim Crow era is in the details. We see Bessie (played by Queen Latifah, in the affable, spirited persona she usually brings to roles: she’s also in good voice even though no one could be Smith’s equal) fail the “paper bag test” a Black impresario uses for the women he recruits to his revue. Smith is darker than the paper bag (as is Latifah, though not as dark as Smith was) so in spite of her talent, she’s out. Later, when she has her own revue, she uses the same test, but this time the recruits have to be darker than the bag, eliminating the women Bessie calls, “high yellow bitches.”

In some ways writer-director Dee Rees’s Bessie (showing tonight on HBO) about “The Empress of the Blues” singer Bessie Smith, is a story we’ve seen before, complete with feathers, spangles, and bootleg liquor as the action meanders through the 1920s, but a script (written by Rees, the late white playwright Horton Foote, plus Christopher Cleveland and Bettina Gilois) about a queer Black woman (Smith was bisexual) by an out queer Black woman who also directed is unusual, especially on a platform as popular as HBO. The only other recent example I can think of is Rees’s last film, the theatrically released, indie, coming-out drama, Pariah.

The difference between Bessie and the similar bio-pics about Black performers of the Jim Crow era is in the details. We see Bessie (played by Queen Latifah, in the affable, spirited persona she usually brings to roles–she’s also in good voice even though no one could be Smith’s equal) fail the “paper bag test” a Black impresario uses for the women he recruits to his revue. Smith is darker than the paper bag (as is Latifah, though not as dark as Smith was) so in spite of her talent, she’s out. Later, when she has her own revue, she uses the same test, but this time the recruits have to be darker than the bag, eliminating the women Bessie calls, “high yellow bitches.”

We see Bessie mentored by the slightly older blues singer Ma Rainey (also the subject of one of August Wilson’s most famous plays) and with Mo’Nique in the role we get a taste of the complex interplay of Black women we saw in Pariah between the main queer character, Alike (played by Adepero Oduye) and her homophobic mother (Kim Wayans). Rainey (Mo’Nique is terrific in the role and made me wish she were in more films) at first is a mother/teacher figure showing Smith that she should deliver her songs teetering at the front edge of the stage as she explains, “If you not riskin’ nothing, neither will they.” She also instructs her to find people in the audience to focus on and sing to, “The blues is not about people knowing you. It’s about you knowing people.”

With these two characters Rees is, again, one of the few filmmakers showing an audience one queer Black woman (Rainey, though she had a husband who was also her business partner, was as out as one could be in those days, singing, “Went out last night with a crowd of my friends/They must’ve been women, cause I don’t like no men”) offering guidance to another (we see Smith in multiple scenes with a girlfriend, Lucille, played by Tika Sumpter). When the two singers are relaxing in a saloon, Rainey is openly affectionate with her girlfriend and when she notices Smith nervously looking around, afraid to be seen in public with her girlfriend, Rainey tells her she shouldn’t care what other people think. Rainey and Smith are both presented as sexual, desirable beings (Latifah in one non-sexual scene reminiscent of Viola Davis in How To Get Away With Murder, removes her wig and makeup while also topless) in spite of both Latifah and Mo’Nique being over 40 and neither possessing the model-thin body type that is the default for most modern-day actresses.

But as Smith develops her stage presence and her great voice (we see the performers don’t have microphones, a condition which favors those who can easily reach the back row with no amplification, as Smith, and later in musical theater, Ethel Merman, did) we see Rainey look warily at her and eventually demote her from a starring role in the revue. Smith with her brother strikes out on her own and eventually outshines her mentor, both because of her talent, but also because of timing. The peak of her popularity as a live performer was just right for the nascent recording industry, which made better quality records of Smith’s work than of Rainey’s.

We see that Smith is reluctant to release “race records” because of the racist imagery used to promote them. But when she fails to be “respectable” enough for the Black nationalist record company during her audition (after a fawning invitation letter the very light-skinned president of the company signs “Yours in negritude”), she makes records for Columbia, a white-owned company, which offers her a flat fee, but no royalties, and features her photo, not a caricature, on the covers. The records become so popular, the Black farmworkers in the fields all stop their work to wave to her train car as it makes its way from town to town for live shows.

Smith grew up in a violent household (like many children of that era) and we see that she doesn’t hesitate to use her fists or a makeshift weapon at hand if she needs to. When we first meet her she receives a scar from one of these fights and we see it throughout the rest of the film, to remind us of these beginnings. I could have used fewer flashbacks to violent incidents when she was a little girl, especially since, unlike the at times violent mother in Pariah, Smith’s abusive older sister Viola (Khandi Alexander) is neither as nuanced in the script nor in her performance as Kim Wayans’s Audrey.

We also see Smith’s relationships with men (even as Lucille remains a member of her revue as well as Bessie’s girlfriend, a portrait of, for a time, fairly happy polyamory) including her husband Jack Gee (played by The Wire’s Michael Kenneth Williams, his distinctive facial scar perfect for this volatile character) who becomes her manager and, because of his propensity for violence, her sometime protector in the business deals that commonly cheated Black performers. We see both how she should get far away from this man and how his presence works to her advantage–and that she may very well have seen this paradox too.

I wish the film had used more period music (as well as more music that includes Smith’s voice, not Latifah’s) instead of the score which could have been lifted from pretty much any movie covering any era, the orchestra always intruding, telegraphing to us what we should be feeling instead of letting us feel. The last time I heard a score that distracted and irritated me to this extent–while still being completely forgettable–it was by the same composer: Rachel Portman. I know we need more women composers in film, but I much prefer the work of innovators like Mica Levi. I also wish the film had made its center the relationships with Rainey and Lucille (the publicity for the film, especially that targeted to queer women makes these two roles seem much bigger than they turn out to be). We’ve seen the story of the abusive husband-manager before (though Smith’s was probably one of the earlier examples) and the performer whose fortunes fall as her popularity does as surely as we haven’t seen complicated relationships between queer Black women, especially not on HBO.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FhmzwXfgz8″ iv_load_policy=”3″]

Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks has appeared in The Toast, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Mo’Nique Returns to the Spotlight in ‘Bessie’

The film also focuses on the relationship between Smith and Ma Rainey, who mentored Smith and gave her guidance on developing her stagecraft. Mo’Nique portrays Ma Rainey, known as the “Mother of the Blues,” in a rich and layered performance and has so much charisma she steals every scene she’s in.

This is a guest post by Paula Schwartz.

Queen Latifah was born to play the Empress of the Blues. Queen Latifah stars in Bessie, the new biopic about the early life of legendary blues singer Bessie Smith. The film will premiere Saturday on HBO. Mo’Nique, who has her first stand out role since Precious, reminds us why she won the Oscar in 2010.

Directed by Dee Rees (Pariah) from a screenplay by Rees, Christopher Cleveland, and Bettina Gilois, the story is by Rees and acclaimed playwright Horton Foote, who died in 2009. The film focuses on Smith’s early years as she struggled as a young singer to eventually become one of the most successful recording artists of the 1920’s. She earned $2,000 a week – an unheard of sum – at the height of her career.

Both Queen Latifah and Mo’Nique received Critics Choice nominations the other day and the Golden Globes and other accolades are sure to follow.

The cast includes Michael Kenneth Williams (Boardwalk Empire, 12 Years a Slave) as Bessie’s husband; Khandi Alexander (Scandal) as Bessie’s abusive older sister, Viola; Mike Epps (The Hangover) as the singer’s bootlegger romantic interest; Tory Kittles (True Detective) as Bessie’s older brother Clarence; Tika Sumpter as Lucille, Bessie’s longtime lover.

At the recent premiere at the Museum of Modern Art, nobody worked the red carpet harder than Mo’Nique, who talked to all the journalists clamoring for her attention.

Bessie has many explicit sex scenes and Queen Latifah’s character has a nude scene that’s integral to the story but sure to get audiences talking. Ma Rainey was gay and Bessie Smith was bisexual, and the film doesn’t shy away from showing scenes of their characters having sex with both men and women. A standout is a scene early in the film where Mo’Nique and Queen Latifah dress up in drag, smoke cigars and do a song together to a boisterous audience.

Here’s a red carpet interview with Mo’Nique, who looked terrific in a blue lace gown, and was warm and thoughtful in her replies to all the journalists:

Were gay women who performed on stage more open about their sexuality in the time of Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith? (Of course they didn’t have to contend with social media.):

Mo’Nique: I think back then there was a strength that said I’m unwavering about who I was born to be. Don’t we still fight with it today? But figure what she had to walk through then? It was illegal. They got locked up. If you were seen with the same sex so to have that kind of strength back then is absolutely beautiful.

What was the key to finding her character?

Mo’Nique: Her music, (I found it) through her music. If you listen to Ma Rainey you’ll really understand Ma Rainey because she sang from her soul. She sung her truth and that’s how I really got to understand who that woman was because there’s really very little written information about this woman. She’s so hidden and now history, you have to dig really deep to get that little bit…. And she told the truth. And even back then, she was fighting for wage equality, so we’re still having that fight today but definitely she kicked open the doors so we can even go to the meetings to have those discussions.

They were friends. And she was Bessie Smith’s mentor and she was very motherly but she was that type of mother that knew when she had to let go and let that baby fly and go see it for herself. And when the bird flew back home she was right there waiting for her. That’s what that relationship what. And what I so appreciate about her, we don’t often times see those relationships anymore, you don’t see it where two friends go through it, they fall out, but they’re still willing to love each other through it and come back together.

What does she see as Ma Rainey’s influence on A&R and jazz?

Mo’Nique: It’s truthful. It’s very honest. It’s very from the soul. When you listen to those singers back then, they couldn’t pretend. They couldn’t fake it because the people would know it and they were those singers that when you sat there, you know how they say music moves you? That was that type of music that moved you and made you make a decision, may it be the right, wrong or indifferent, but when you listen to that music it was like you know what? OK, “I’m gonna finish this darn liquor and I’m gonna make a change.” That’s what that music was back then. Absolutely beautiful!

What were the key factors that made her want to take on the role of Ma Rainey?

Mo’Nique: It was Ma Rainey’s strength. Her integrity. You know when you read that script and you understand that the sacrifices that woman made for little girls like us, and she had no idea that she was doing it, it was just the right thing to do. So when you read those lines, and you understand that that woman is talking to me for me, off the pages, and she’s saying Monique keep pushing. Keep going in the right direction and don’t waver from what you know is right. Look at my story and when you look at that woman’s story it’s not like most of our stories, where we die broke, alone, miserable. When you look at her story she had a very full life.

Before she made her way into the theater, I asked Mo’Nique if she actually sang.

Mo’Nique: All day long!

Later at the after party I asked the 36-year-old director about how she discovered Bessie Smith’s music, she told me it was through her grandmother: “She played Bessie Smith’s records all the time.”

Paula Schwartz is a veteran journalist who worked at the New York Times for three decades. For five years she was the Baguette for the New York Times movie awards blog Carpetbaggers. Before that she worked on the New York Times night life column, Boldface, where she covered the celebrity beat. She endured a poke in the ribs by Elijah Wood’s publicist, was ejected from a party by Michael Douglas’s flak after he didn’t appreciate what she wrote, and endured numerous other indignities to get a story. More happily she interviewed major actors and directors–all of whom were good company and extremely kind–including Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Plummer, Dustin Hoffman and the hammy pooch “Uggie” from “The Artist.” Her idea of heaven is watching at least three movies in a row with an appreciative audience that’s not texting. Her work has appeared in Moviemaker, more.com, showbiz411 and reelifewithjane.com.

Fat, Black, and Desirable: Fat Positivity and Black Women

If these women aren’t seeing any positive images of themselves on screen, how are they able to construct an identity of truth? Even though they can rely on their community for positivity, if it’s not reinforced through media representation then it renders that support useless.

This guest post by Chantell Monique appears as part of our theme week on Fatphobia and Fat Positivity.

When thinking about positive images of fat Black women in television, one normally thinks of any television show starring Queen Latifah or Jill Scott. Unfortunately, work by these two women is not enough to combat the plethora of stereotypical and fat-phobic images that plague fat Black women. While it has been difficult to find positive images of fat White women on television, for the past five years there has been more positive visibility than that of Black women. There is a slow and steady body-positive movement taking place in the form of social media and television representation; however, due to White privilege and constant stereotyping, fat Black women have been excluded from this conversation. Including Black women in this movement can potentially lead to more fat-positive representation, e.g. complex characters and romantic love interests, thereby allowing fat Black women to challenge stereotypes and restructure their image to include desirability and worth.

Tess Holliday plus-size model and body-positive activist — Tess Holliday, plus-size model and body-positive activist

Poet Sonya Renee Taylor wrote a passionate piece for The Militant Baker titled, “Weighting to be Seen” in which she discusses the body-positive movement and the lack of women of color involved. She highlights a few names of bloggers and “body positive heroines” noting that aside from their body sizes, it’s their whiteness that allows their images of “bravery” to go viral. Taylor says, “Our society tells us fatness is not beautiful. Blackness is not beautiful. So even while reclaiming size diversity as beautiful, the presence of Blackness complicates the narrative.” She argues that although there is a body-positive movement occurring, including Black women in this conversation “complicates the narrative”; therefore, it’s easier to leave them out altogether. She’s not asserting this is by anyone’s conscious choice, but it’s a result of White privilege. Taylor says, “Being seen in our bodies, in our fullness and beauty is a birthright women of color have never had…the vehicle to even beginning to dismantle weight stigma is to be seen as fully human in this society [which] is a privilege that requires white skin…” Taylor’s observation of the body-positive movement challenges the notion that all women can and have been included; in addition, it underlines why there has been a lack of fat-positive representation of Black women in television.

Melissa McCarthy in Mike and Molly — Melissa McCarthy in *Mike and Molly*

Hollywood has a complicated relationship with fatness, especially female fatness; how it chooses to deal with fat bodies indicates a general lack of respect, and worth. We’ve witnessed fat female bodies being used a comedy, marginalized or ignored all together. Yet over the past five years, we’ve seen a modest amount of fat-positivity in terms of female representation. For example, Melissa McCarthy in Mike & Molly (2010-)–Molly is the protagonist worthy of a romantic relationship which fuels the show’s storyline. In addition, Drop Dead Diva (2009-2014) follows the love and career of a feisty model reincarnated as a plus-size attorney. It must be noted, being reincarnated in the form of a plus-size woman can be seen as a punishment; however, once the show deals with this theme, it rarely mentions her fatness in a negative way. Instead, the viewer gets to watch the heroine argue cases and fall in and out of love. After a string of strong film performances, Australian actress Rebel Wilson landed a starring role on her own show, Super Fun Night (2013-2014). Even though it got canceled, she was the lead, not a stereotypical sidekick. Another body-positive representation is HBO’s Girls (2012-); Lena Dunham’s ability to showcase her body on television either casually or sexually highlights the notion that no matter the size, women are complex, sexual and beautiful beings. The last and most interesting body-positive handling of a fat woman is in Showtime’s Homeland (2011-); although not a fully flushed out character, a plus-size woman engages in “fat sex” with the hunky male lead that stunned most viewers while also commenting on idea that yes, fat women have sex! These images, in conjunction with the body-positive social media presence, bring awareness to fatness in a way that encourages consideration and thought. Unfortunately, like Taylor points out, the faces that represent this movement are White, which leaves fat Black women alone to battle engrained stereotypes such as the ever-present Mammy.

In “Mammies, Matriarchs, and Other Controlling Images,” Patricia Hill Collins argues that stereotypes such as The Mammy “simultaneously reflect and distort both the ways in which black women view themselves…and the ways in which they are viewed by others”; therefore, if the image of the Black woman is relegated to an asexual nurturer who lacks desirability, how can she or others see her as worthy of love? This notion has been egregiously reflected in television; for example, Cate Young writes an article for Bitch Flicks that investigates the treatment of Gabourey Sidibe’s Queenie in American Horror Story: Coven. She uses the Strong Black Woman stereotype in order to analyze Sidibe’s character, asserting that “Queenie is presented as being the only one unworthy of love or sex.” While Young doesn’t mention Sidibe’s size, one can only assume it was easier for AHS to portray a fat Black woman as unlovable instead of a thin one. Thin Black actress experience stereotyping also but there is substantial proof that indicates Hollywood is comfortable showcasing them as more lovable than fat Black women.

Amber Riley as Glee’s Mercedes — Amber Riley as *Glee*’s Mercedes

Unfortunately, there aren’t fat-positive images of fat Black women comparable to those of fat White women e.g. leading characters that show some semblance of depth and complexity. Instead, fat Black women have been pushed to the margins of television, infiltrating stereotypical roles that communicate undesirability. To illustrate, Amber Riley’s character on Glee (2009-) never had a lasting romantic relationship. We were able to see the majority of Glee’s cast fall in love and engage in sustainable relationships but not her. At one point she dates two gentlemen but finally decides not to be with either one. While one can appreciate a woman’s right to be single, not giving the plus-size Black girl a romantic relationship implicitly reinforces her undesirability. Through these images, fat Black girls are able to shape their identity but if television says their undesirable, if affects their self-perception.

Jill Scott, one of Hollywood’s go-to plus-size Black women

There has been constant discourse regarding representation of fat Black women in television and because images help to shape our identities, consuming negative images can impact how fat Black women see themselves. Dwight E. Brooks and Lisa P. Hebert, authors of “Gender, Race, And Media Representation,” argue, “How individuals construct their social identities, how they come to understand what it means to be male, female, black, white…is shaped by commodified text produced by media…”; consequently, there are no innocent images out there and relying on stereotypes in order to define a group of people greatly impacts their self-perception. This can be directly applied to fat Black women who have been characterized as undesirable and unworthy of romantic love. If these women aren’t seeing any positive images of themselves on screen, how are they able to construct an identity of truth? Even though they can rely on their community for positivity, if it’s not reinforced through media representation then it renders that support useless.

1990s Living Single starring Queen Latifah — 1990s *Living Single* starring Queen Latifah

There are talented fat Black actresses desperate to play complex characters without submitting to mainstream standards of beauty but there are no substantial roles available to them. During the 1990s Golden Age of Television (Living Single, Moesha, The Parkers, That’s so Raven, etc.) there were countless parts for women of color but as times have changed, so have the opportunities. We’re unable to rely on Queen Latifah and Jill Scott to speak for a whole group of women and because a powerful showrunner like Shonda Rhimes has normalized diversity on television, it seems unfair to ask her to create characters that actually look like her, especially after all she’s done for Black women. This means fat Black women must not only become part of the body-positive movement but perhaps the face of it; in addition, we must look for creative ways to tell our stories, taking an active role in our media portrayal. Only then can we combat White privilege and stereotypes in order to restructure our images to include desirability and worth.

Chantell Monique is a Creative Writing instructor and screenwriter, living in Los Angeles. She holds a MA in English from Indiana University, South Bend. She has previously written for Bitch Flicks and is a contributor for BlackGirlNerds.com. She’s addicted to Harry Potter, Netflix and anything pertaining to social justice and Black female representation in film and television. Twitter @31pottergirl

One to Watch Out For: HBO’s ‘Bessie’

There is, nevertheless, something magical about Bessie’s life and career. How did an impoverished, orphaned Black girl who spent her childhood singing on the streets not only survive but succeed in a land that still lynched its Black citizens? There is something profoundly modern and heroic about the woman herself. An independent woman with attitude and talent, she has to be one of the most charismatic feminist icons of the 20th century.

A portrait of Bessie Smith by Carl van Vechten

Written by Rachael Johnson.

HBO’s Bessie has to be one of the most exciting offerings on 2015’s cultural calendar. Helmed by Dee Rees and starring Queen Latifah in the title role, the telefilm will recall the extraordinary life of the “Empress of the Blues,” Bessie Smith. It has all the makings of a quality production. Dee Rees impressed us back in 2011 with her well-observed coming-of-age drama, Pariah. An attractive, charismatic presence, Queen Latifah is, equally, an excellent casting choice. But who was Bessie Smith? Although hugely respected by musicians throughout the generations, many of us remain unfamiliar with the entertainer. In anticipation of Bessie, let’s remind ourselves of the exceptional life and career of the “Empress of the Blues.”

Born in Tennessee in 1894, Bessie Smith was one of the greatest Blues singers of the 20s and 30s. Her childhood was marked by poverty and she lost both of her parents by the age of 9. She sang on the streets before performing in touring groups. A dancer, at first, she was a member of the Rabbit Foot Minstrels, the same minstrel show as the great Ma Rainey, another Blues singer, by the way, who deserves her own biopic. Bessie signed a contract with Columbia Records in 1923 and was soon catapulted to fame–and riches. Earning an astonishing $2,000 a week, she became, in fact, the highest-paid Black entertainer of her era. She had her own show and her own railroad car.

Her private life was, by all accounts, pretty lively. Her marriage to husband Jack Gee was turbulent and she was particularly fond of gin. She broke many of the rules of her day. Reportedly bisexual, she had affairs with women during her marriage. Bessie Smith was sexual and successful as well as, of course, immensely gifted. The extraordinary depth and power of her voice is evident from this following clip from the short film, St Louis Blues (1929).

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JpVCqXRlXx4″]

“Downhearted Blues,” “Nobody knows You When You’re Down and Out,” and “Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home” are among some of the songs Bessie recorded. Her popularity waned–music historians cite the Depression and changes in musical taste–but there were, it seems, indications that she was on the verge of a comeback. Tragically, Bessie Smith was killed in a car accident in 1937 at the age of 43.

Another portrait of the "Empress of the Blues" by van Vechten — Another portrait of the “Empress of the Blues” by van Vechten

Bessie is a refreshing, tantalizing prospect. God knows, of course, that dramatizing the lives of female cultural heroines doesn’t seem to be much of a concern to the powers that be. This is particularly the case, let’s face it, with women of color. But that must change. Movie studios and television companies, moreover, need to pay tribute to people who create more instead of offering romanticized, revisionist accounts of snipers. The Empress of the Blues’s commanding voice and pioneering spirit resonate today. Hopefully, Bessie will help restore her to our collective memory. She occupies a unique, vital place in 20^th century popular culture.

One to Watch Out For: HBO’s ‘Bessie’

Written by Rachael Johnson.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JpVCqXRlXx4″]

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

The year in TV: How the shows of 2014 remade “masculinity” on television by Sonia Saraiya at Salon

Why Aren’t We Talking About the Sexual Assault in ‘Beyond the Lights’? by Shannon M. Houston at Shadow and Act

An Updated ‘Annie’ And The Tradition Of Nontraditional Casting by Bob Mondello at NPR

Why a Black Annie Is So Significant by Imran Siddiquee at The Atlantic

Why is Hollywood Scared of Wonder Woman? by Veronica I. Arreola at Bitch Media

Women of “Action!” by Denene Miller at Essence

Jennifer Lawrence: Legal Tipping Point for Women in Hollywood? by Maria Giese at Ms. blog

Sony Hack Reveals the Insufferable Whiteness of Hollywood by Tanya Steele at Shadow and Act

Amy Pascal Sets Back Women in Hollywood and Race Issues in One Fell Swoop by Joanne Cronrath Bamberger at the broad side

The Interview: just one subplot in Sony’s troubled big picture by Justin McCurry at The Guardian

Hollywood has a race problem — and it’s on display in Ridley Scott’s new movie ‘Exodus’ at PRI

‘Sisters’ Photo Reunites Our Favorite BFFs Tina Fey and Amy Poehler by Britt Hayes at Screen Crush

First Look: Queen Latifah To Star As Blues Icon Bessie Smith In 2015 HBO Film by Stacy-Ann Ellis at Vibe

The Final Hobbit Film: One Kick-Ass Chick Among the Sausagefest by Natalie Wilson at Ms. blog

The Queer Women of Color Video Streaming Service That’s Cheaper Than Netflix by Jamilah King at Colorlines

The Most Important Feminist Film Moments of 2014 by Melissa Silverstein at Women and Hollywood

Ava DuVernay Has Multi-Episode TV Series on “Black Experience in America” in the Works by Sergio at Shadow and Act

As an Urban Feminist, I Was Surprised to Fall in Love With “Nashville.” by Aya de Leon at Bitch Media

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

2012 Golden Globe Analysis

Since yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a federal holiday, I thought it was more important to post something specific about race in the United States than an analysis of the Golden Globes. However, it turns out there’s still a lot to say about race with regards to the awards. More about that–and my picks for highlights and lowlights of the cerermony–after a quick rundown of the night’s winners.

Motion Picture
Best Picture – Drama: The Descendents
Best Performance by an Actress – Drama: Meryl Streep for The Iron Lady
Best Performance by an Actor – Drama: George Clooney for The Descendents
Best Picture – Comedy or Musical: The Artist
Best Performance by an Actress – Comedy or Musical: Michelle Williams for My Week with Marilyn
Best Performance by an Actor – Comedy or Musical: Jean Dujardin for The Artist
Best Animated Feature Film: The Adventures of Tintin
Best Foreign Language Film: Asghar Farhadi for A Separation
Best Director: Martin Scorsese for Hugo
Best Screenplay: Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role: Octavia Spencer for The Help
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role: Christopher Plummer for Beginners
Best Original Score: Ludovic Bource for The Artist
Best Original Song: “Masterpiece” by Madonna, Julie Frost & Jimmy Harry for W.E.

Television
Best Series – Drama: Homeland
Best Performance by an Actress – Drama Series: Claire Danes for Homeland
Best Performance by an Actor – Drama Series : Kelsey Grammer for Boss
Best Series – Comedy or Musical: Modern Family
Best Performance by an Actress – Comedy or Musical Series: Laura Dern for Enlightened
Best Performance by an Actor – Comedy or Musical Series: Matt LeBlanc for Episodes
Best Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Downton Abbey
Best Performance by an Actress in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Kate Winslet for Mildred Pierce
Best Performance by an Actor in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Idris Elba for Luther
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role: Jessica Lange for American Horror Story
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role: Peter Dinklage for Game of Thrones

Cecil B. DeMille Award: Morgan Freeman

A few brief thoughts about the nominees and winners:

No women were nominated in the score, screenplay, best picture, or directing categories.
The only woman to win an award outside of acting was Madonna, for best original song.
Two people of color won acting awards–Octavia Spencer & Idris Elba–which seems better than previous years, though perhaps still not good enough.
Modern Family won yet another award, this time in a category that did not include Parks and Recreation, which I would argue is the best comedy on television.
Matt LeBlanc & Kelsey Grammer?! I didn’t realize the 1990s were experiencing such a resurgence, and these were some of the biggest surprises of the night for me.

Highlights:

Meryl “I can’t believe I said shit on TV” Streep

Meryl Streep

Her acceptance speech was exuberant and funny. She forgot her glasses, was possibly drunk, swore, and was censored. She then proceeded to deliver the best speech of the night. She mentioned not only the other women nominated in her category, but gave a shout-out to Pariah star Adepero Oduye and Jane Eyre star Mia Wasikowska. She is lovely, classy, funny (with two references to host Gervais), intelligent, and willing to step out of her comfort zone to take on challenging roles (like this one).

Here’s a clip of the speech from YouTube, which will probably be taken down soon:

Tina Fey & Jane Lynch

Tina Fey and Jane Lynch

Two very funny women presented an award and proceeded to joke about how little they resemble the characters they play on television. But the best moment came at the end, when they not only got in that penis joke,* but highlighted the “triumph” with an in-unison “penis joke!”

Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy sing

Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy

Another favorite moment involved the presentation of an award, rather than an acceptance speech or anything the host said. The duo sang their teleprompter speech, giving us all a pleasant surprise. In a show that can be–and often is–boring and too serious (which is why a host like Gervais is brought in at all), their moment was fun, light-hearted, and playful. If only there were more moments like this in the 3-hour ceremony…

Lowlights:

Ricky Gervais being…funny?

Ricky Gervais

Gervais tells sexist, homophobic jokes and thinks (?) it’s funny to say he “can’t fucking understand” native Spanish speakers (who also speak perfectly clear English) Salma Hayek and Antonio Banderas. However, he also skewers celebrities during the very awards ceremonies that laud them and treat them like royalty. I like this dynamic very much, and think it captures the way many of us feel about movie stars: we simultaneously adore them and find them utterly ridiculous. The Golden Globes needs a host who is funny and irreverent if the show is to be of any interest to average viewers. I’m convinced this person exists, and I’m also convinced that Gervais is not this person.

Meltem Cumbul on the red carpet

Meltem Cumbul

Ordinarily I’d be pleased to see an international film star who isn’t from the United States appear at the Golden Globes. However, I was puzzled by the appearance of Meltem Cumbul, who made a brief statement and then left the stage. She didn’t present an award, and she didn’t introduce a presenter. While it was wonderful for the Globes to acknowledge that films are made outside of Hollywood, it struck me as a cynical move–to have us believe that the organization is more progressive and inclusive than it actually is. Perhaps I’d be more convinced if she’d have served a purpose on stage, or if the HFPA had more than one category recognizing filmmaking around the world.

Queen Latifah introduces Best Picture nominee The Help

Queen Latifah introduces The Help

Queen Latifah is a talented, confident, and beautiful Black woman, and it was good to see her on stage. That the Globes brought her on stage to introduce the only Best Picture nominee that remotely deals with the experience of Black people…well, that looks like the same kind of cynical move I saw with Cumbul’s appearance. I also can’t help but think that this was the HFPA’s way to avoid or sidestep the real backlash against this movie. Octavia Spencer won for her performance in The Help–and, as I tweeted during the ceremony, I’m glad she won–but it would be nice to see a Black woman win an award for playing something other than a maid, and it would also be nice to see a Black woman introduce a Best Picture nominee that isn’t an extremely problematic story mainly about a White Savior.

Dishonorable Mentions

Penis Jokes*

As seems more and more the norm on television today, we can’t seem to get through a program without implicit or explicit penis jokes. I actually liked Fey and Lynch’s ironic joke, as I mentioned above, but because it was done in the spirit of acknowledging and ironically commenting on the comic trend. Whether you’re watching The Daily Show or the Golden Globes, you’re going to hear about penises. Sunday night, Seth Rogen sexually harassed his co-presenter Kate Beckinsale with a “joke” about having a “massive erection.” Later, George Clooney “joked” (though this seems timid compared to Rogen’s offense) that Michael Fassbender could play golf with his hands tied behind his back. All I can say about this is ENOUGH ALREADY.

Miss Golden Globe

Why oh why oh why oh why do we STILL have to have a lovely young woman stand on stage to occasionally usher off a confused star? Why? WHY?

That’s it from me. What are some of your favorite and least favorite moments from the 2012 Golden Globes?

2011 NAACP Image Awards

The 42nd annual NAACP Image Awards

The NAACP Image Awards, honoring people of color in television, recording, literature, motion picture, and writing & directing, took place last weekend. We (and so many others) have decried the consistent whiteness and maleness in Hollywood, both of which were displayed in this year’s Academy Awards.

The Image Awards, on the other hand, are a “multi-cultural awards show from an African-American perspective.” An explanation of the award’s history and necessity emphasizes the importance of images we see and ideas that are reinforced by the media:

Ideas and images create the belief systems that control our individual and societal actions. When it comes to forming ideas, reinforcing stereotypes, establishing norms and shaping our thinking nothing affects us more than the images and concepts delivered into our lives on a daily basis by television, motion picture, recordings and literature. Accordingly, there is ample cause for concern about what does or does not happen in these mediums when there is little or no diversity in either opportunities or the decision making process.

For a complete list of nominees and winners in all categories, visit the official site. Here is a selection of categories in film.

Outstanding Motion Picture:
For Colored Girls – winner
Just Wright
The Book of Eli
The Kids Are All Right
Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Too?

It’s noteworthy that only one of these received an Oscar nomination in the Best Picture category–which now features ten films. It’s also worth noting that two of the five are directed by women (Sanaa Hamri for Just Wright and Lisa Cholodenko for The Kids Are All Right), while two of the ten Oscar nominees were directed by women. Finally, I can’t help but mention that this site has reviewed exactly one of them (Kids). Why? One reason must be our own failing–not paying enough attention to films by and about people of color. That’s on us. Another reason is that the culture at large still isn’t paying enough attention to films by and about people of color. Films about women are typically marginalized to the category of “women’s films,” and thus not considered “mainstream” enough to attract wide (read: white male) audiences. Similarly, films about the lives and experiences of people of color are often reduced to “black films,” and not given the cultural and critical attention they deserve. Are these all outstanding films, deserving of mass critical attention? I don’t know–and the not-knowing is a problem. But they’re certainly deserving of an examination of gender politics…which is what we do. Here is the rest of the list, uninterrupted.

Outstanding Actress in a Motion Picture:
Halle Berry for Frankie & Alice – winner
Janet Jackson for Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Too?
Kerry Washington for Night Catches Us (check out Arielle Loren’s guest post)
Queen Latifah for Just Wright
Zoe Saldana for The Losers

Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Motion Picture:
Anika Noni Rose for For Colored Girls
Kimberly Elise for For Colored Girls – winner
Phylicia Rashad for For Colored Girls
Whoopi Goldberg for For Colored Girls
Jill Scott for Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Too?

Outstanding Independent Motion Picture:
Conviction
Frankie & Alice – winner
La Mission
Mother and Child
Night Catches Us

Outstanding Directing in a Motion Picture (Theatrical or Television):
Geoffrey Sax for Frankie & Alice
George Tillman, Jr. for Faster
Tanya Hamilton for Night Catches Us
The Hughes Brothers for The Book of Eli
Tyler Perry for For Colored Girls – winner

Be sure to check out all the nominees and winners. Which nominated films have you seen? What do you think of the winners? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Guest Writer Wednesday: THE DILEMMA Preview

Cross-posted at Shakesville.

THIS LOOKS GREAT!!!

(That was sarcasm.)

Here’s the trailer for a fun new movie—coming in January to a theater near you!—from Ron Howard, starring (big voice) Vince Vaughn, Kevin James, and (little voice) Queen Latifah, Jennifer Connelly, and Winona Ryder, about the
conundrum
~~predicament~~ dilemma (!) in which Vaughn finds himself after discovering that his best friend’s wife is cheating on his best friend.

Even though he calls them, as a couple, his “hero” for their awesome relationship, before uncovering the
quandary
~~crisis~~ dilemma-producing infidelity, she is only known as his “best friend’s wife,” not, you know, his friend, Geneva. She’s just his best friend’s appendage, not her own autonomous entity with an independent relationship with him, despite the fact they apparently hang out in a big group all the time.

Anyway, the lack of female personhood is probably the least of this movie’s problems, given that the trailer opens with a homophobic joke:

[Transcript below.]

I can’t even imagine what the hilarious reversal is going to be. Is Ryder posing as a beard for James’? Is it an immigration scam? What is the kooky story behind the Very Hot Lady who is cheating on her Stupid Fat Husband?! Boy, I bet it’s a hoot!

With a nod to how awesome our new post-feminist world is, I’d also like to note that Jennifer Connelly has won an Oscar. Winona Ryder has twice been nominated for Oscars. Queen Latifah has been nominated for an Oscar.

Vince Vaughn and Kevin James have both been nominated for Teen Choice Awards.

[Via Andy. As always, I am not discussing the film per se; I’m discussing the trailer, and what I perceive the film to be based on how it is being represented by its own marketing.]

[Vince Vaughn, wearing a business suit, stands in a corporate conference room, in front of a table of other people wearing business suits, giving a presentation.]

Vaughn: Ladies and gentlemen, electric cars [long pause for comedic effect] are gay. I mean, not homosexual gay, but, you know, my-parents-are-chaperoning-the-dance gay. [His business partner, Kevin James, nods in agreement.] B&B engine design can combine the benefits of electric transportation with the rock-and-rollness of Dodge’s current muscle car models.

James: That we all know and love!

[Queen Latifah, part of the group to whom they’re presenting, nods and smiles appreciatively. Vaughn wow-wows the opening riff of Heart’s “Barracuda” while playing air guitar. Cut to Queen Latifah talking to Vaughn and James in the hall after the meeting.]

QL: I’m inspired by what you’re throwing down, and I got some serious lady-wood here. [She gestures to her crotch.] I want to have sex with your words. [James throws a side-eye at Vaughn.] Gotta go! Mommy and me! I’ll call you! [She waves and runs off.]

Text Onscreen: TWO BEST FRIENDS.

[Cut to Vaughn and James at a smoky bar. Vaughn’s girlfriend is Jennifer Connelly. James’ wife is Winona Ryder.]

Vaughn: Nick, buddy, we got the deal.

James [to Connelly]: I’m not gonna lie—I love your boyfriend. Come in here. [They hug and the girls cheer.] This is great.

Vaughn: Don’t ever let me go.

Text Onscreen: TWO PERFECT COUPLES.

[Cut to a restaurant, where the two couples are sitting around a table. Vaughn and Connelly kiss each other.]

James: I think you can know someone within the first ten seconds of seeing them; I fell in love with Geneva the moment I saw her.

Ryder: Awwww. [She reaches out and strokes James’ cheek.]

[Cut to James and Ryder on the dance floor; James, because he is fat and intrinsically hilarious, is dancing like a complete arse; Vaughn and Connelly watch from a booth.]

Vaughn: When it comes to couples, they’re my hero.

James: Honey, you hear that? Ronnie told Beth I’m his hero! [Ryder gives an “awwww” look. James turns back to Vaughn.] I’m Mean Joe Green; you’re the little boy with the Coke bottle; come on, I’ll throw ya a jersey! Let’s do it! [More ridiculous dancing.]

Text Onscreen: BUT THIS JANUARY.

[Vaughn, now in some tropical location, sees Ryder with young hot stud, Channing Tatum. He spies on them through the foliage, as “Barracuda” swells.]

Text Onscreen: ONE LITTLE DISCOVERY…

[Vaughn ventures deeper into the foliage for a closer look, ignoring a sign reading: “CAUTION Passiflora incarnata DO NOT ENTER. He sees Ryder and Tatum kissing.]

Text Onscreen: WILL CAUSE A BIG DILEMMA.

[Vaughn trips and falls face-first into a bunch of plants. Cut to Vaughn sitting indoors with two other white dudes, his face all fucked up.]

Vaughn: I just saw my best friend’s wife with another man.

Dude #1 (played by Clint Howard, in his obligatory role in every film of his brother’s): You fell in a whole bed of poisonous passiflora incarnatas!

Dude #2: You can expect diarrhea, fever, dry heaving, painful swelling in your gums, and challenging urination, with a possible bloody discharge. [HA! HIS FRIEND’S WIFE’S CHEATING EVEN RUINED HIS DICK!]

Text Onscreen: From Academy Award winning director Ron Howard.

Vaughn [to some other random white dude in another setting]: Let me ask you a question, and this is completely hypothetical, something way out of left field [continuing as voiceover, over images of Vaughn stalking his best friend’s wife and discovering her with Tatum again]: Let’s say that one friend found out that another friend’s wife was cheating on him…

Dude #3: How good a friend?

[Cut to footage of Vaughn and James at a Blackhawks’ game, doing a choreographed move together.]

Vaughn [back with Dude #3]: Let’s just say his best friend. Very best friend.

Dude #3: I wouldn’t tell him.

[Clips of random people responding to, one assumes, the same question. A black woman says: “It all depends.” A young white dudebro says, “He’s gotta tell him. It’s guy code, man. If you don’t tell your friend, then you’re basically doing her, too.” Cut to Vaughn walking with James at a bar or something.]

Vaughn: Nick, I need to talk to you about something.

James: What’s going on with you?

[Random scenes that make no sense, inserted presumably to show that Things Happen in the movie.]

Text Onscreen: THE DILEMMA.

[Scene of Vaughn peeing and screaming.]

Connelly: Are you all right?

Vaughn: Oh, to be honest with ya, honey, I’m feeling a little challenged. [Hilarious callback to being told he will have challenging urination.]

Text Onscreen: COMING SOON.

Melissa McEwan is the founder and manager of the award-winning political and cultural group blog Shakesville, which she launched as Shakespeare’s Sister in October 2004 because George Bush was pissing her off. In addition to running Shakesville, she also contributes to The Guardian‘s Comment is Free America and AlterNet.