Seed & Spark: ‘Actress’ and the Messiness of the Moving Image

In the film I follow Brandy’s unfolding drama as-it-happened, hanging the film on her trained actor expressions and captivating ability to theatrically display fragility, anger, and force of will. The film is a documentary in the sincerest way; Brandy’s performance is the truth I was observing. ‘Actress’ is about the roles we play and how we get trapped in them; the role the viewer sees Brandy wrestle with most vigorously might be the role of documentary subject.

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This is a guest post by Robert Greene and Brandy Burre.

From Director Robert Greene:

How does a man make a movie about a woman who is going through a crisis in her life that he, despite being the same age (with the same ambitions, the same number of children that are the same age in the same town), will never have to deal with because he’s a man?  That’s what I’ve tried to do with my new nonfiction film Actress, which stars my neighbor and friend Brandy Burre as she tries to balance motherhood and artistic dreams in the face of a suddenly tumultuous domestic situation. The answer in this case: you wind up the toy and hold on tight.

Brandy got pregnant when she was filming her final appearances on HBO’s legendary show The Wire, in which she played political consultant/vixen Theresa D’Agostino. Her life didn’t immediately settle (at one point she was doing a theater run far away from Tim, the baby’s father), but she eventually moved to Beacon, New York to raise a growing family. I moved next door to her a few weeks after she came to Beacon. Five years later we began filming what would become the movie. Its original title was Mother As Actress.

In the film I follow Brandy’s unfolding drama as-it-happened, hanging the film on her trained actor expressions and captivating ability to theatrically display fragility, anger, and force of will. The film is a documentary in the sincerest way; Brandy’s performance is the truth I was observing. Actress is about the roles we play and how we get trapped in them; the role the viewer sees Brandy wrestle with most vigorously might be the role of documentary subject.

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The project started from the formal question, “What happens when you film an actor in an observational documentary?” before the story took us in unexpected places. I also know that women, especially mothers in their later 30s, are harshly under-represented in movies. In general, too, I begin from the point of view that documentaries are inherently exploitative, that a power exchange is created when one person films another, not to mention when a man films a woman. This may be especially true when that man is exploring genres such as melodrama, which have traditionally been called “women’s films.”

The best way to short circuit the potential calamity of this exchange is to foreground the exploitation, to make it part of what the viewer is watching while they follow the story. The way a man can make a documentary about a woman in this situation, then, is to dive deep into the contradictions of the nonfiction form and display the mess onscreen. Documentaries are made of the tension between order and chaos, between directing and living. Letting these tensions show (and allowing space for the viewer to think about these tensions, including questions of gender and exploitation) cedes some of the power of the image to the person in front of the camera.

That person in this case is Brandy, a complex, theatrical, mercurial force of nature. It was not always easy to “cede power” of my film to this magnificent creature, and I wasn’t about to do it just because she was a woman. She was hesitantly stepping forward, too, though I wouldn’t have been able to tell; by the time she said yes I had already become somewhat obsessed with the possibilities of filming her and how my ideas would mingle with what I could never have predicted. What happened, of course, was that Brandy’s force, her power, her fragility, her ability to make every scene crackle was the film I wanted to make. Soon my ideas were dwarfed by this bright star and it was now our film, though it obviously never could have remained just mine.

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This film was very hard to make, but ultimately I think we’ve arrived at something productive and meaningful. I think Brandy agrees, but let’s see what she thinks in her own words.

From Subject/Star Brandy Burre:

Indeed being the subject of a documentary, actor or no, is a dicey proposition. When Robert first introduced the idea that he “follow my journey of getting back into acting,” I declined. The problem as I saw it: I’ve never had the desire to trudge into the business of acting as it formally exists.  End of story.

The fact that Robert couldn’t, in many ways, understand my views as a woman and mother further distanced me from the idea. The assumption I inferred in Robert’s scheme was that I had lost my way as an actor and was in need of finding it, that my life without acting was lacking in some way and needed to be rectified, as if my career had been on a clear path, I had been derailed by having children, and I simply needed to hop back on the train and resume my efforts where I had left off.

Clearly he didn’t understand my rogue path to landing the role on The Wire. Nor did he understand the extent of my other work as a theater artist and musician. How could he know I had made definitive choices, defying the one size fits all rigmarole allotted to aspiring artists in America (those without lineage or trust funds, that is)? I had no desire to prop up a false perception of a typical actor’s life, or worse, come across as a failure or desperate in some way.

But then there is Robert, a persistent hornet of a person. Taking a different approach with me, he threw down the gauntlet: we just start filming. We turn on the camera and see where it leads, even if that destination is nowhere. We film for the sake of filming, make art for art’s sake, he the filmmaker and I, the muse to his musings. Hmm… Now this got my mind a-churning.

How could I say no to this exercise? What is it to play the role of one’s self? What actions define me as an individual, and what are the boundaries of my existence that I’m forced to question when confronted with a camera lens as witness?

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I was sufficiently stung by Robert’s passion and commitment to the potential of this project. If he accepted me with all my contradiction and parody, force and feebleness, without need for outcome, who was I to deny him? From this moment on, Robert found in me his willing cohort, conspirator, and collaborator. And once I commit to a project, I invest my entire soul to it.

I am endlessly proud of Actress and the bravery it took to make this film.  The bravery to be as truthful and raw as I knew how to be.  Robert met me as a fellow artist without definition of gender, and this was his greatest gift to me and to women in general. The fact that Actress might be considered a “woman’s film” is because my story was truthfully told within the context of itself, not with a male-dominated agenda. And in case it needs clarifying, the context of me is ALL woman.

Actress is currently building an audience and raising funds for music rights on Seed&Spark.com.

 


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Brandy Burre is an American actress best known for her portrayal of Theresa D’Agostino on the HBO Series The Wire. Currently, she is the subject of Actress, the critically acclaimed documentary from Robert Greene. Other recent credits include Alex Ross Perry’s Listen Up Philip and Phil Pinto’s “Diplo Revolution” music video. Also a musician and mother of two, Brandy has performed many great roles on professional stages across the country. She has an MFA in Acting from Ohio University.


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Robert Greene is a filmmaker and writer. He was named one of the 10 Filmmakers to Watch in 2014 by The Independent and received the 2014 Vanguard Artist Award from the San Francisco DocFest. Robert’s films include Actress (2014), Fake It So Real (2012) and Kati With An I (2010). He has edited over a dozen films, including Alex Ross Perry’s Listen Up Philip and Amanda Rose Wilder’s Approaching the Elephant. Robert writes for Sight & Sound and other outlets.

 

LGBTQI Week: “All the Pieces Matter:” Queer Characters of Color on ‘The Wire’

(L-R): Detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn) and Omar Little (Michael K. Williams) on The Wire
The Wire is the greatest TV series of all time. Period.
Now, I know I’m not really making some bold claim as many, many, many, manycriticshave professed their unabashed love for the crime drama. No other show has painstakingly depicted the complexities of racism, the inner city and the lives of the underclass. It’s a grandiose statement “about the American city, and about how we live together” and how institutional inequities fail social justice.
When people talk about The Wire, usually with awe and reverie, they discuss the sharp dialogue or the nuanced characters or the statement on race and the criminal justice system. And all of that is amazing. But I think what gets lost is that people forget The Wire’s depiction of queer characters and ultimately its statement on LGBTQ rights.  
The Wire portrayed complex, fully developed queer characters, something you don’t typically see in pop culture. With my absolute two favorite characters, Detective Kima Greggs and Omar Little – a black lesbian woman and a black gay man – The Wire confronted assumptions and stereotypes of heteronormativity.
Played by Sonja Sohn, an African-American and Asian-American black woman, kick-ass Detective Kima Greggs was a hard-working, smart, compassionate and loyal. Possessing integrity and earning the respect of her colleagues, she’s a fiercely shrewd and efficient police detective working in narcotics and later homicide. And she’s openly lesbian. From her very first scenes, we witness Kima better at her job than many of the men around her. She’s an indispensable member of the Major Crimes Unit. Outside of work, we see Kima with her partner Cheryl, a journalist. Later in the series, we see how work stress (especially after Kima is shot), conflicting goals, infidelity, parenthood and alcohol strain their relationship. After they break up, we see Kima and Cheryl come together to raise their son, as well as Kima’s fantastic “hustler” version of Goodnight, Moon.

The Wire‘s Detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn)
With his signature trench coat, shotgun and trademark whistle, Omar (portrayed by the effortlessly charismatic Michael K. Williams) was a badass stick-up man who everyone in the hood respected, even those who wanted him dead. And he was a proud gay black man. Intelligent, brave, sensitive and funny, he abided by a strict moral code. He loved Honey Nut Cheerios and Greek mythology, loathed profanity and dropped nuggets of wisdom on the similarities between lawyers and thieves and says things like, “Ares, same dude different name” and “You come at the king, you best not miss.” The media is littered with tropes about gay men. Yet here was Omar – a tough, fearless, modern-day Robin Hood robbing drug dealers – who just happened to be gay and broke every stereotype. 
The Wire showed both Kima and Omar’s romantic relationships. We witness them laugh, kiss, have sex, and fight. In short, complete relationships. It was great to see to see a gay and a lesbian relationship amidst all the heterosexual relationships. When queer relationships are depicted on TV, they’re often sanitized and peppered with chaste kisses, when the straight relationships are not. Queer characters may be clothed or the relationships are put on the back burner, not in integral part of the characters’ lives. With The Wire, we see queer characters having sex. We see Omar naked. Passion, raw sexuality, and tenderness abound in the queer relationships. We shouldn’t be plagued by heteronormativity and just see straight relationships as the default and queer relationships as peripheral. Queer relationships were entrenched in the series.
It’s also interesting to see how other Wire characters treat homosexuality. When asked by Carver, “If you don’t mind can I ask you when was it that you first figured you liked women better than men?” To which she replies, “I mind.” Detective McNulty praises Kima, telling her the only other competent female detective he ever worked with was a lesbian (ahhh a back-handed, sexist compliment…thanks, Jimmy!) Omar is often referred to with gay slurs like the F-word and C-sucker. When drug kingpin Avon Barksdale finds out from his crew that Omar is gay, he quadruples the bounty on him.Many of the characters seem to view lesbians as masculine, the desired gender, and gay men as effeminate, denigrating the feminine. The portrayal of Kima and Omar question, challenge and subvert these stereotypes.

The Wire‘s Omar Little (Michael K. Williams)

Now, it’s great we’re starting to see more and more queer characters on-screen (Modern Family, True Blood, Grey’s Anatomy, Will & Grace, Glee, The L Word, Queer as Folk, Buffy, Roseanne). Although I desperately wish we were seeing more bisexual (although thank you for Callie Torres, Grey’s Anatomy!) and transgender characters. But usually when we see queer characters, we see white, upper class/upper middle class characters. As if no queer people of color or queer people who are impoverished or even working class exist.

Class and race are so often erased in our media (one of the many reasons Roseanne was so groundbreaking and amazing). Not every queer person lives in Park Slope or West Hollywood attending art gallery openings and having nannies. The Wire depicts financially struggling and impoverished queer women and men of color.
Stereotypes plague queer characters on sitcoms. And yes, sitcoms differ from dramas. Kima and Omar (while Omar does seem too badass to be an actual person) both seem very real. They exhibited foibles and weaknesses along with their strengths. But their relationships didn’t define them. Rather, they were an integral component of their lives. Kima and Omar weren’t beholden to these stereotypes that alert us to “Oh, this is a gay character!” Fully developed and fleshed out, they didn’t fall prey to common tropes.
But Kima and Omar weren’t the only queer characters. Major Rawls, a gay-slur-spewing jerk, is a closeted gay man as we see him briefly at a gay bar. Snoop (Felicia Pearson), the frighteningly ruthless, gender non-conforming soldier in Marlo’s crew (sidebar, my fave scene with her is when she goes to Home Depot), is a lesbian as we learn after Detective Bunk tells her he’s thinking about some pussy and she replies, “Me too.” Both Rawls and Snoop, along with Greggs and Omar, challenge gender and heteronormative assumptions.

The Wire‘s Snoop (Felicia “Snoop” Pearson)
Despite my adulation, The Wire is far from perfect. (Say what??) The Wire boasts strong, complex female characters (Kima Greggs, Ronnie, Beadie, Brianna Barksdale, Snoop) Yet it sadly suffers from a woman problem. As progressive as it is, sexism taints it. Just because a film or TV series contains a “portfolio of ‘strong women’” doesn’t automatically deem it feminist.The Wire often focus on the male characters. While we see myriad perspectives from the male characters, the women aren’t typically offered the same screen-time or scope, often existing peripherally. David Simon himself admitted that his female characters could be called “men with tits.” Ugh. While based on a couple lesbian officers he knew, Simon wrote Kima Greggs “like a man.” We often witness how institutional racism and classism oppress the male characters and how gendered notions of masculinity harm men. Yet we rarely see how sexism impacts the women from their perspective. But the flaws in its depiction of women doesn’t unravel the tremendous good The Wire has done.

“The characters on The Wiredemonstrate a departure from heteronormative assumptions in television complicated by race. The prospect of seeing homosexual minority couples has remained largely untouched by major media outlets and it is therefore worth applauding. While the series may lack a strong female presence to challenge traditional heterosexual gender roles, the work that it has done involving homosexual partnerships serves as one of the sole examples of normalized homosexuality.”
When asked why he created an out lesbian and a gay stick-up man, creator David Simon responded, “Because gay people exist.” Is there any more perfect reason than that? He went on to say that he knew lesbian detectives and openly gay stick-up men in Baltimore. Whatever failings Simon suffered from not knowing how to write about women, he knew to include gay characters. It shouldn’t be so surprising or groundbreaking. And yet it is for the media too often erases queer (and queer people of color’s) perspectives. And that’s just one of the many reasons why The Wire should be celebrated.The Wire‘s routine depiction of gay and lesbian characters conveyed queer individuals and queer relationships as normal, loving and valid. The Wire refused to make heterosexuality the default sexual orientation.

Weaving diverse voices and social justice issues together in a compelling, thought-provoking, passionate way — that’s what The Wire did best. Too often the media silences and erases queer people of color. The Wire brought those perspectives to the forefront. Quoting Detective Lester Freamon, evolving into the show’s unofficial mantra, “And all the pieces matter.” And so do all the various genders, sexualities, races and identities of the characters involved. Just like real life…or at least how real life should be.
P.S. Michael K. Williams (Omar), who’s incredibly gracious and charming – yes, I’m going to brag for a moment…I was lucky enough to meet him (!!!), as well as Andre Royo (Bubs) and Jamie Hector (Marlo) who were also super nice – filmed a PSA for marriage equality in Maryland. If you’re an Omar fan, you should totes watch it. Oh, indeed.

 

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Creator of The Wire issues heartfelt critique of the “war on drugs” from Feministing

Last week, actress Felicia Pearson, who plays “Snoop” on The Wire, was arrested as part of a major drug raid that included 30 people. While this is certainly disappointing news, because I think a lot of people are rooting for her success after her involvement with the show, I was particularly struck by the reaction of David Simon, creator and executive producer of The Wire and Pearson’s colleague.

A History of (Firsts) for Women and Film from The Film Experience

First woman to receive an honorary regular-sized Oscar: Greta Garbo in 1954. Yep, after 20 or so men had been given one. After another 15 or so men were given non-competitive statues the next woman was Onna White for choreographing Oliver! (1968).

The ratio continues this way: 1970s men: 14; women: 3; 1980s men: 8; women: 1; 1990s men: 9;women: 3; 2000s men 12: women: 1; This year men: 3; women: 0; What the hell is AMPAS’s problem with women, exactly?

Interview with Sherry Hormann, Director of Desert Flower from Women and Hollywood

Desert Flower opens this Friday in NY and LA.  It stars Liya Kebede as Waris Dirie, a woman who escaped from Somalia and became a top fashion model and UN spokeswoman against female genital mutilation.  Director Sherry Hormann answered some questions about the film.

I Love Lucy: Radical Feminist Propaganda? from Against All Evidence 

Ricky: All people in the world are divided into two groups… men and women.

Lucy: [sarcastically] I know. It’s a wonderful arrangement.

Ricky: Now. Men have short hair, and women have long hair. That’s the difference between them.

Lucy: Oh?

Icons of Black Female Empowerment from The Root

From Diana Ross to Lena Horne to Queen Latifah, black women in pop culture have defied the odds, inspired and awed their fans. In honor of Women’s History Month, we’ve put together a list of some of the icons of black female empowerment.

March Movies I Won’t Be Seeing (And One I Might) from The Funny Feminist

First up is Sucker Punch, starring a bunch of life-sized Bratz dolls:

Summary: A group of girls escape from an insane asylum where they have been imprisoned against their will, kicking ass and taking names on the way!  They also happen to be wearing next to nothing while they do this, but I’m sure that’s just a coincidence, right?

The Feministing Five: Anita Sarkeesian from Feministing

Anita Sarkeesian is the founder of the fabulous blog and video series Feminist Frequency, where she analyzes depictions of gender in pop culture in an accessible, entertaining way. Sarkeesian believes that popular culture is a powerful force, one that can shape how we think about the world, and that it even though it can seem silly, it deserves serious analysis: she wrote her master’s thesis on representations on strong women in scifi and fantasy television.

Why I Am a Male Feminist from The Root

The word turns off a lot of men (insert snarky comment about man-hating feminazis here) — and women. But here’s why black men should be embracing the “f” word.

Leave links to what you’ve read and written this week about women and film!