The Forty-Year-Old Version follows a teacher and minor playwright as she approaches her 40s, following her struggle as she considers success, opportunity, and staying true to herself. What was undoubtedly one of the largest themes in Forty Years was the idea of "Poverty Porn," especially in relation to race.
We see the buildup to this early on. Radha, a black woman, writes a play with the desire to simply tell a black story. It is set in a city undergoing gentrification, but the main focus is on the characters. When she tries to sell it to a white producer, however, she is given an ultimatum. Whether he believes her story won't sell as-is, or simply wasn't interested himself, he forces her to either sell out and change her story to fit his narrative or to find someone else to produce it, which is not an option for her if she wants to break out of her slump. To make things worse, Archie tells her that her next play will be "hers," and she just has to get through this obstacle to get there.
She becomes understandably frustrated by this, and continuously more so as she is faced with challenges such as not being able to get a black director, and her cast is upset with her for stereotypical portrayals that she was forced to include. It was heartbreaking to see these things happen during her process, especially when considering Archie's role. Not only was her best friend pushing her to give up something she held so dear for the sake of opportunity, but he acted as if she was obligated to destroy her story because he used sexual favors to get her the opportunity in the first place.
To cope, she decides to switch to rapping, making a song called "Poverty Porn" about how whites often exploit black struggles. They don't believe that telling an everyday black story for the sake of telling an everyday black story is worth anything, even though everyday white stories are acceptable. If the black population wants some representation, there better be something heavy there - slavery, gang violence, neglect. In this case, white producers (and audiences), embodied through Whitman, make it clear that a black couple's struggle is irrelevant if a white person isn't along for the ride and/or it isn't tragic enough.
I loved that this idea was explored in this movie because it reminded me of a paper I read on JSTOR while researching for my project in this class. The paper, "Is Viola Davis in It?" by Kellie Carter Jackson, talks about the diversity of roles for black women in film. The point she was making in the paper was a bit different than in the movie, but it nevertheless centered around the idea that viewers expect to see black stories in a certain way, referencing the "single story" by Chimamanda Adichie. In this movie, this was portrayed as whites overriding black authors to tell 'authentic' black stories.
Like Whitman didn't want a black story unless it centered around white people in some way, many modern viewers don't want to see black stories unless they are focused on overcoming racism or slavery - such as Harriet or The Help. In other words, viewers today often don't want black stories unless they are centered around white people in some way. When I was told Forty Years was a comedy, I was not expecting such a strong message, but I'm glad it was there. This movie really got me thinking about black stories and black roles in a way I don't think any other movie this semester has, and I'm thankful for that.
One False Move did not appeal to me. In addition to simply disliking the action genre, the acting was horrendous and many of the characters fell flat. One thing I did like, however, was how true this movie was to its name.
One False Move. One little mistake could change everything. Every time a character makes a decision, it spirals them in a different direction. For example, maybe if Ray and Pluto hadn’t killed the men in Houston, or gone after Fantasia, they could have escaped.
Ultimately, I think the idea of One False Move is best portrayed through Dale and Fantasia. The majority of the movie builds up to Fantasia’s return to Star City, where the cops are waiting for her arrival. She believes she will be able to return and see her family in her hometown, but viewers know the LAPD has been tracking her for days. The chief of Star City, however, has known Fantasia since she was a teenager and swears she is not capable of the actions the LAPD suspects she has committed.
The connection between Dale and Fantasia is where the idea of One False Move comes in for me. A little over halfway through, we learn that Fantasia has a son, but are left to assume it is either Ray’s or some unnamed man’s. By the end, however, we come to understand that Dale was the father.
I think this plays into One False Move because it ultimately throws us into the end of the movie and its consequences. Due to Dale’s actions, that is, using his power to “have sex with” a vulnerable and troubled teenager, he feels that he has a connection with Fantasia - maybe not in the boyfriend/girlfriend sense, but an understanding. He does not see her for years following this event, in fact, he was not even aware he had a son by her, but he continues to swear by her name and insists she is good to those who want to arrest her.
He keeps this up the entire movie, to the extent of following her brother and breaking into her hideout alone, without calling for backup. If I remember correctly, he stayed there all night, if not for a couple of days. While there, he continues to feel this connection he believes they have, and decides to help her escape if she works with him to lure and capture her companions.
In the end, everyone dies, in a final, tragic portrayal of this idea. Dale kills Pluto as intended, but Ray shoots at Dale and misses, killing his girlfriend instantly. This in turn costs him his life. If he had moved his arm slightly to the right, he and Fantasia could have made it. Dale himself gets hurt, and the story ends without us knowing whether he survives or not.
One False Move. Did Dale’s decision to take advantage of Fantasia rather than help her all those years ago lead to both of their deaths? If he had chosen the other path, he wouldn’t have felt this “connection” and could have arrested the three without losing his own life. Hell, maybe Fantasia wouldn’t have gone down that path in the first place.
Walking out of Eve's Bayou, I wasn't the only one who was confused by the ending. Many in class were unsure of what the last scene meant, and who was actually at fault here. Louis and Cicely both had different versions of what happened between them and although Eve learns the full truth, a clear answer is never given to the audience.
So what happened? I think Louis was most likely the perpetrator here, but I want to cover each side since it had so many of us confused.
Cicely is her father's favorite child. This is established fairly early on, as Eve is upset that Louis will not dance with her, and only her sister. We see more of this throughout the movie. Louis often ignores, or simply spends less time with his other children even though they love him to death. He clearly still loves them, but not as much.
In return, Louis is his daughter's favorite parent, and by a long shot. She constantly defends her father despite his wrongdoings, and when compared with Roz's feelings of frustration and betrayal, may have encouraged Louis to take increasingly more interest in Cicely. She eventually becomes his only anchor to his old life (even if he was the one causing the discourse), above his wife and his other kids. Cicely had also recently begun puberty, and chances are Louis began to see her in a different light, eventually taking advantage of her affection for him.
After the fact, Cicely is often seen hiding in her bed and covering her body with something, whether it be a blanket or her arms. She isolates herself and lashes out at her family, all common signs of a survivor of sexual assault. When her father comes near her, she curls in on herself further. She won't look at him or talk to him.
She continues her silence until her sister can't take it anymore, and explains what happened while tears run down her face. Cicely hid what happened as long as she could, but her love for her sister, likely coupled with loneliness considering her father was her favorite person before this, forced her to reveal the most vulnerable and heartbreaking thing that could ever happen to her.
On the other hand, Louis has some defense for himself.
Many of the points listed above could be applied to other perspectives. For example, Cicely's silence and avoidance of her father could be attributed to the embarrassment of being rejected.
Additionally, Cicely idolized her father, even to the point of blaming her mother for Louis's infidelity. She tried to deny Eve's claim of seeing Louis with Mrs. Mereaux even though she logically knew it to be true. Was this out of fear for her parents or jealousy of Matty? Regardless, she was undoubtedly a "daddy's girl." He was her favorite parent, and she was his favorite child. He danced only with her at parties while she stayed up to wait for him every night.
With Louis's obvious favoritism, perhaps she became confused and took her feelings too far. It would help explain some of her resentment toward her mother aside from being trapped in the house for weeks on end. She could have simultaneously been jealous of Roz for having Louis while hating her for supposedly not being enough, as most of the family knew he was unfaithful and was gone from dawn to dusk.
These feelings could have especially been heightened due to changes that come with age, as it is noted she had started her period. It is a confusing, scary time for any girl, and maybe she attempted to replace Roz. However, many people have favorite parents and hormone changes without taking it to incestuous levels.
Louis only wrote his note after being confronted by his sister, so perhaps his initial silence could be attributed to keeping Cicely's secret so as not to embarrass her. Of course, things change once one is accused of molesting their daughter, so he tried to explain.
Some more evidence could be found after his death when Cicely is distraught at his funeral. If he had truly assaulted her so horrifically, would she really miss him so much? However, her sadness doesn't completely rule him as innocent. Even if he did do it, she has loved him her entire life, and those feelings are unlikely to go away the second he commits an act, no matter how horrendous.
Again, I believe it is much more likely for Louis to be the perpetrator here, but Cicely being the one at fault is not out of the picture. Many of these scenes mentioned could have various meanings and interpretations behind them, and there is no way of truly knowing what happened unless someone involved in the film itself were to say something.
Overall, I think this ambiguous ending really took a lot out of what was initially a wonderful story. I don't think it was a good decision, even if it was supposed to prompt the viewer to think and draw their own conclusion. Endings such as this can be interesting and thought-provoking, but in the case of incest and pedophilia, it felt very tone-deaf and left a bad taste in my mouth. Realistic? Very much so, as in he-said, she-said situations, nobody knows the truth for sure; but Eve had Mozelle's second sight and found the answer for sure, so why not clear it up for the audience? Sexual assault should not be a "mystery" for entertainment purposes.
I suppose it is a little ironic, then, that I am writing about this, wondering who did what.
Similar to Shaft, Boyz n the Hood places much emphasis on masculinity. I have stated quite a few times that I really do not like Shaft, and most of that resentment comes from its portrayal of masculinity, or to be more precise, its relation to femininity.
I loved Boyz n the Hood, though, and I think its portrayal of black masculinity was done much better.
One of my favorite characters is Furious Styles, Tre's father. From the very beginning, he is there for his son and works to teach him responsibility, with the hopes that he will be able to go to a good college and have a successful life outside the dangers of the hood.
Furious is a great parent, and I like his message regarding sex. Through his jokes with Tre, it is clear that he sees sex as a good thing, but encourages his son to be safe about it to avoid an unwanted child. He doesn’t act like Tre’s friends, who constantly push him to have sex to prove his status as a man, but he also does not try to restrict him completely. He encourages Tre to do as he wishes but to practice responsibility.
On the subject of Furious, Reva, Tre's mother, made a great point about how men are praised for being good parents while it is expected of women.
I love this line because it puts things into perspective, acknowledges this problem with society, and highlights the importance of both men and women in this aspect without diminishing Furious's role as a father. Through his actions, he is still established as a great parent and respectable man while emphasizing the role of a mother. I think this is a great example of how masculinity and femininity can go hand-in-hand without holding one above the other.
That's not to say this movie's portrayal of masculinity does not have its flaws, though. Early on after the time skip, Tre's friends make fun of him for not having lost his virginity.
I don’t like this shaming, but it's not a big issue in itself since I think that's just how people tend to act. This is more of a personal grievance. It does, however, lead to my next point.
Spurred on by his friends, Tre pressures his religious girlfriend into giving up her virginity even though she has repeatedly stated that she is uncomfortable with it because it goes against her morals. When her beliefs were introduced, I thought he would come to respect her decision and I was excited to see how that played out. I hoped it would make a message about masculinity and how respecting other people's (especially women's) decisions despite peer pressure doesn’t diminish one’s manliness.
Unfortunately, this was not the case. After Ricky’s death, Brandi has sex with him. Her established boundaries are tossed aside with no explanation, and this is supposed to be a good thing for Tre. I take massive issue with this because it sets a dangerous precedent for viewers as well as establishes the man’s needs above the woman’s. It’s something you’d likely see in Shaft, and I worry viewers could take it as an invitation to treat their girlfriends similarly. It is the one issue I have regarding masculinity in this movie, but it’s a pretty big one. Constantly berating someone for sex even when they’ve said no multiple times is not consent, and I feel horrible for Brandi here. This also didn’t affect the plot at all. It should have either been cut out entirely or portrayed as a cruel action to one’s partner, not as a celebration.
The big topic of this movie, however, is of course gang activity. I like how this is handled because it is established that the harsh life that is often romanticized in outside society, such as on social media, movies, and books, is not ideal.
What seems to be a dominant message here is that trying to get out of the "hood" is not a weakness. “Softer” lives are often desired, and it takes strength to break out of this deadly cycle so many were forced into. Both Tre and Ricky dedicated so much of their lives to this. They work incredibly hard in their respective fields, with the constant worry that they will fail. This is exactly what happens in Ricky’s case: one small encounter with the wrong guy proves enough to get him killed, wasting his work. That’s how easy it is to fall back into the cycle. It takes so much work, strength, and luck to leave.
It is not an insult to the people that do not leave, though, as it's established that it also takes strength to remain. These characters have repeatedly shown that they are not scared of death. They take drastic actions while being fully aware of the consequences. To avenge his brother, Doughboy hunts the Bloods down and takes his time killing them. He dies for his actions 2 weeks later. He expected this. It takes a certain kind of strength to face death like that, and I think the tragedy of this was portrayed well.
Although it had flaws, I think life and masculinity were portrayed well in Boyz n the Hood. I loved the story, characters, and messages in this movie, and it has dethroned A Raisin in the Sun as my favorite movie in this class.
In Jaqueline Bobo’s essay regarding the controversies surrounding both the original novel and the movie adaptation of The Color Purple, one of the main topics is the characterization of black men. More specifically, it was argued that the men in The Color Purple were portrayed stereotypically, as Celie’s father, husband, and stepson were all abusive physically and sexually. It was argued that this worked directly against the last 70 years of black film and its efforts to portray African Americans - regardless of gender - as actual people to all audiences.
When I first read this, I was shocked. It hadn’t occurred to me once, either while reading or watching. I thought this was an interesting and important insight and I was determined to write about it, especially since my last post was a complaint about how women were portrayed in Shaft, a somewhat similar argument considering negative portrayals of ‘inferior’ groups. One holds a lot more weight than the other, but I still thought they were worth looking at in a similar light.
But then I wondered why Walker decided to write her male characters this way, so I tried to find a bit more information.
After some issues surrounding an actress in the musical adaptation, Alice Walker stated in a 2019 letter that Celie was “based on the life of my grandmother, Rachel, a kind and loving woman brutally abused by my grandfather. ... It is safe to say, after a frightful life serving and obeying abusive men, who raped in place of 'making love,' my grandmother, like Celie, was not attracted to men. She was, in fact, very drawn to my grandfather’s lover" (https://www.facebook.com/sgsanders/posts/10220513373769377).
These criticisms mentioned in Bobo’s essay, then, are entirely irrelevant. Even if the story and characters are not “true” in the terms of, say, a documentary, they are based on truth. Celie, Shug Avery, and the men are all inspired by real people. They are not simply a group of made-up characters that reinforce harmful stereotypes: they tell a story about the author’s family, even if it is fictionalized, and I believe that is an important distinction. Alice Walker did not sit down to write these characters with the intention of demonizing black men, she was telling the story of her grandmother., a woman who overcame incredible hardships.
I do believe, however, that this criticism was valid when initially published. Bobo’s article was published in 1989, and Walker’s letter regarding Celie’s history was written in 2019. This information may not have been available at the time, and I could not find any statements from her from the 1980s.
Since there was so much backlash from black men, however, it doesn’t matter. Even if this information was available, which I doubt considering it was not mentioned in the essay, it clearly wasn’t very well-known. This is an issue because, as seen, people will and have assumed that these characters are something they are not. These portrayals are not attacks on black men, and I believe that should be understood by everyone who views it. It may prevent anger from some and prejudice from others.
For many, Shaft was a major turning point when it came to African Americans in film. Well, African American men, that is. Like most people, I noticed the way black men were portrayed in this movie: they held leadership roles, they had influence, they were badasses, and they were very sexual.
I think the most notable of these is sexuality. John was not only shown to have many partners but there were even active sex scenes, content which has not been very abundant for black men. This is because previous influential works, such as The Birth of a Nation, have portrayed black men as predators and rapists, whose one goal was to hurt women, which in turn instills fear and prejudice into the population that struggles to go away. Shaft's portrayal then, over half a century later, was practically revolutionary.
This was a good thing, right? Despite the (luckily decreasing) taboo around it, it has to be admitted that humans have sex. It's just how we are. So portraying this positively, especially with a black man at the center, is a good thing! It helps to embrace human nature while working to break down stereotypes and prejudice. Yeah... too bad women, a kind of big part in SEXuality, play minimal roles in this movie in the first place, and the ones they do play? Incredibly sexist.
It's great that this movie worked to flip some stereotypes over, but I don't like that it felt the need to put others down to get there. Of course, women as sexual beings is not the issue, not even close. Just like men, women are human, and just like men, they desire sex. I actually think it's a good thing to portray women as sexual. My problem is that is almost all they do in this movie.
From the beginning to the end, John is seen with multiple women for sex and sex only. He has a girlfriend, who we get a sex scene with, but instead of portraying some type of love or mutuality alongside this, we see him cheating on her with a white woman.
Other than Marcy, who I'll get to in a second, this is literally all women do in this movie: have sex with John. We don't see any personality, ambition, plot, a little job isn't even mentioned, nothing relates to them outside of sexual relations with Shaft. As stated earlier, there is nothing wrong with sexuality in a movie, in fact, I encourage it - but when it's played off as women's only purpose, it becomes an issue.
Marcy Jonas was the one female character to not be sexualized in the movie, but her part wasn't any less revolting to me. At the beginning of the movie, John meets with Bumpy Jonas, who reveals that his daughter has been kidnapped and asks John to rescue her, and thus begins the plot. Can you tell where I'm going with this?
Yes, the one woman not portrayed solely as a sexual object is a damsel in distress.
From the very beginning, rescuing the helpless little girl is the mission. When we finally see her, all she does is get held at gunpoint and threatened, then rescued by a group of men a few minutes later. And that's it. That's all we get: a stereotype surrounding femininity as weak and useless, unable to navigate the world without men to guide her.
For a movie that breaks a lot of stereotypes surrounding black men, it sure encourages them in women.
It shouldn't take bringing one group down to lift another, and I honestly find it a little sad that a movie about black people, a group that has been oppressed for so long, couldn't understand this.
For as many men as we see in this movie, was it really so hard to have just one woman in a position of strength and/or power? Even just in the background? It would have been incredibly easy to just replace a couple of the men with women - and they didn't even need to be major characters. One of the more minor police could have taken that role and it would have succeeded in portraying women as more than just sex objects and damsels in distress.
I can definitely see the appeal of John's position, but I don't think it is something that I can enjoy because it puts down half of the population to get there. Instead, I'd like to see more movies with similar ideas in relation to black men, but with the addition of portraying women as actual people with actual roles and desires.
A Raisin in the Sun is easily my favorite movie we've seen in class this year. Even though the vast majority of the runtime took place in the same room, I enjoyed the plot and I loved the characters. Each member of the Younger family impacted the story in their own way, even if some had more depth and/or importance than others.
For instance, Ruth and Walter's son Travis barely appears on-screen. He has very few lines, there's just not much to him, and yet he is probably the most important character in the movie. Lena and her children may have more to do, but Travis is the motive for much of the major points, especially towards the end.
That's because he represents the future, and by extension, hope.
Throughout the movie, it's often referenced by the others how he has to wear old shoes and sleep on the couch because they don't have money and space for his own bedroom. At the end, when Walter is about to crack and sell the family's new house, Lena insists he does it in front of his son, "make him understand what you're doing." While there are of course other factors, a lot of what drives the family to succeed is to give Travis the life he deserves.
He is even directly referenced as the next generation of America, and he is a big reason as to why the ending is so hopeful, even if it's not sure what's going to happen next.
Ruth was on-screen a lot more, but I personally felt she didn't have very much personality, especially when compared to the likes of Walter, Lena and Beneatha. She was there more for exposition and situational issues. For example, she introduces the audience to the rest of the family in the opening scenes before the main 3 take over. We see her get out of bed, wake Travis from his spot on the couch, and cook for her husband while they argue over their financial problems. Once they've set this up, however, she doesn't do much else, at least in her own terms.
I think the argument could be made that she had a bit more of a role when considering her morals and dedication to her family, but I think she was there mostly to encourage others to continue the plot. After the first section, she mostly exists in the background, cleaning or watching the actions by other characters unfold. She doesn't contribute very much and she spends a lot of time resting in her room. Halfway through, she discovers she is pregnant and decides to consider abortion since she cannot afford another child. However, this is quickly overtaken by the main 3 as Lena argues with her children over the "miracle of life" versus responsibility, while Ruth, the one who is actually pregnant, just rests in her bed off-screen.
Even if Ruth may not be the best character in terms of personality, she's still pretty likable and manages to impact the plot and dynamics of the others.
Walter. I hate Walter.
He spends much of the movie running around in a drunken rage, punching things and yelling, insisting he is the man of the house. He is sexist and doesn't believe in his sister. As time progresses, the audience sees this is because he struggles with a lot of anxiety about not amounting to anything, but he still spends a good majority of the film as the definition of 'toxic masculinity.' I bet he'd be the type of person to smash his TV if his team lost the Superbowl. If your family, especially your wife, flinches away from you whenever you get mad, even once, I don't like you and never will. That's not to say he isn't a good character, though. There is a lot of depth to him in every stage of the movie.
At the beginning, Walter is snarky, undermining his wife and starting arguments among his family, but is still functional. In the middle, he really seems to go off the deep-end. This is where the borderline abuse comes in, as he's often out late drinking and appears to be in a semipermanent stage of rage. He appears to get better once Lena gives him the rest of her insurance money, and is hopeful when they first see their new house, but once his partner steals his money and leaves, he reverts back into his anger, screaming about how he is the head of the house while calling the man from the neighorhood back so he can sell.
Once Lena draws attention to his son's future, however, he finally understands his family. He considers his son, honors his father, and tells everyone in the room he is proud of his sister. He decides to not sell, and is later seen laughing with his family while they move out.
Without a doubt, Walter has the most depth of any character in the movie. I have very little to say about this because I don't think it needs much justification. Bottom line is: the plot revolves around him, focusing on his financial troubles and his worries about his family and their futures. The story follows his highs and lows and we see how his opinions change and affect his decisions. While the others may contribute to conflict, he is almost always the instigator. Things may be done for Travis, but are almost always done by Walter.
Lena is another character I hate and for similar reasons. She is very much like her son. Overall, she wants the best for her family, especially Travis, but she can also be very tyrannical in her beliefs, becoming overwhelmingly angry when people don't agree with her. Beneatha said she wasn't religious and Lena walked up and hit her before forcing her to recant, practically radiating in anger. Walter's family may be scared of him, but at least he doesn't physically abuse them.
We see her in all sorts of moods, from a loving mother who spends time with her family to a grieving wife who wants to honor her husband to straight-up terrifying in her attempts to enforce her beliefs, and we see each of these beliefs multiple times, as if she cycles through them regularly.
Her impact was undeniable. Her anger establishes her as a driving force. When she tells Walter he is a disgrace to his father's memory, he comes back to it when considering a decision. In that same decision, Lena's anger in regards to Travis's future also helps to change his mind.
These coupled with the simple facts that her money is what got them the house in the first place and that she gave the rest to Walter, which later drives the rest of the story, marks her as one of the most influential and improtant characters within the story.
I knew from the moment she appeared on-screen that Beneatha was going to be my favorite character. She has so much personality and ambition as well as some rather progressive views for the 1960's. Despite my love for her, I feel she has a role somewhat opposite of Ruth's. She has a lot of personality, is often on-screen, and interacts with the rest of the family a lot (which is why I consider her in the 'main 3'), but I feel she has little impact when considering the big picture.
A lot of her ideas drive conflict, such as suggesting that Ruth get an abortion and her views on religion, both which anger Lena, but these conflicts are minor and relatively short-lived. They do work in bits to showcase some of the relationships between the family, but that's really kind of it. We see her bring men home while she tries to find love (and herself), and we watch as she tries to navigate her way through a white and male-dominated field knowing her family has little faith in her.
All of these, however, do little in the ways of progressing the story or dynamics. Her love and self-image issues don't do anything in terms of finances and are mostly there to progress her rather than the plot. In other words, her story, while honestly more enjoyable to me than the main plot, was really just filler.
Her school funds are mentioned a few times in relation to finances, but it never felt like too big an issue compared to those of Walter's, and it was sort of forgotten when Lena finally got her insurance money. She gave it to Walter, said some was for Beneatha, and that was it. Once Walter lost the money, the focus was on him and his store as well as the family's new house. Beneatha's school was mostly pushed to the side.
It's not that Beneatha has no impact, but the impact she does have is either minimal to the overarching story or is dedicated to herself rather than her family. Despite this, I think she's without a contest the most enjoyable character in the movie and I loved every second she was on-screen.
Even if I personally liked some characters more than others, I appreciated the writing for each Younger and I loved that they all had a dedicated role that impacted the story in their own way.
While Stormy Weather does not have much of a plot, it was still a delightful and underrated movie. The music was catchy, the dancing was impressive, and the stages were beautiful.
Despite the lack of a plot, I feel the main idea of the movie was well done. The nature of the film felt like a breath of fresh air considering the subject matter we've seen in some of the other movies in class.
Discussing race is essential in media of course, but it's also nice to take a break from the heavy stuff here and there and just enjoy the little things: in this case, black music and culture. The majority of the movie is dedicated to the characters performing their individual routines which blend together into one product, notably Lena Horne's singing and Bill Robinson's tap-dancing, only interrupting for small "plot breaks."
In Colorization, Wil Haygood discusses many black films throughout the years, and one common feature among most of them is their reception: many face criticism from white or black audiences, sometimes even both, whether it be for the plot, acting, handling of race, etc.
Although it wasn't a smash hit, Stormy Weather was almost universally well-received among its audiences, which I feel says a lot about it. It avoids too much controversy since race as an issue is not really discussed, but I also feel that this lack of criticism comes from the appreciation for the music it produced.
One thing I remain unsure about, however, is the production. Not only was the director, Andrew Stone, white, but the black actors faced extreme racism during production despite the movie's nature.
According to Tinubu, segregation was heavily enforced, white dressing rooms were on set but black actors had to leave campus. The (white) director himself was a lazy addition by producers, and he allegedly "talked down to his cast" (Tinubu).
There were other issues as well: Lena Horne herself stated that although she was happy that she was not forced into a maid role, which was so infamously stereotypical for black actresses at the time, she could not do anything else either. In other words, Selina's character was only there to look pretty and sing, eventually giving up her career for domesticity.
Ignoring this blatant sexism (as well as other... issues... mentioned), however, I want to attempt to consider these on-set issues in terms of blackness. Stormy Weather is beloved by black audiences. It tells black stories and it honors black music, but its black actors and staff were treated horrendously by its white director.
For me, this raises the question of authenticity and legacy. Considering I had trouble finding more on this, this background does not seem to be very well-known (and is it even true? most likely, but without more sources I cannot say for sure), and I think it should be. I think audiences should be aware of what the cast and crew were subjected to before watching the movie itself, whether it influences the movie's legacy itself or not.
I do not know how I feel about this movie now. While it isn't the best movie out there, I enjoyed it enough at first, but now I feel conflicted. I wonder what others would think about this topic, and if their opinion on the movie would change because of it.
Although Stormy Weather has never been exactly famous or even remembered as a "classic" by today's standards, audiences then and now still found ways to appreciate it, to the point it has avoided much criticism as well as been considered significant for black culture. Should this movie really be honored?
Imitation of Life is a 1933 novel by Fannie Hurst that tackled issues such as race and class and was adapted twice: one in 1934 and another in 1959. For a premise that prides itself on exploring race, however, there really wasn't much focus on the black characters.
For this post, I'm going to focus on the 1959 adaptation, but I believe the 1934 version holds some merit in considering this film.
The plot follows two single mothers and their daughters: Annie Johnson, a black maid, and her daughter Sarah Jane, whose skin is so light she often "passes" as white. It also follows Lora Meredith, a wannabe actress, and her daughter Susie.
At the beginning of the movie, Lora takes in Annie as her maid, and she and Sarah Jane live with Lora and Susie while Lora begins to find roles within Broadway and develops a romance with Steve. Occasional scenes through the first part show Sarah Jane's internal struggle with her race, becoming angry with herself and her mother for their blackness while insisting she is white. Once Lora finds her first big role, an eleven-year time skip follows and Lora is rich and famous, living in luxury, while Annie is still her maid. The story continues fairly similarly as in the first half, with the addition of Sarah Jane running away to live a "white" life. The story ends with Annie's death and Sarah Jane's regret.
Fame stories have been told in Hollywood for decades, so the more interesting and unique story here was clearly the distress between Sarah Jane and Annie, but the movie placed much more emphasis on Lora and Susie and their love triangle with Steve, which was just... weird as a plot device in itself, but especially when compared to such severe subject matter as internalized hatred. Very little of the runtime, however, was dedicated to Annie and Sarah Jane. The vast majority focused on Lora and her career.
What little we do see is dedicated to Annie's life as a maid, caring for the same woman for over a decade. Nothing special there in my opinion. Something that's really interesting, though, is Sarah Jane's hatred for herself, her mother, and her race, but there isn't enough time given for them to flesh it out.
It's disappointing because I feel Annie had some very powerful lines.
My problem is that they aren't expanded on. There are no reasons given as to why it's so difficult for black people, why some of them hate themselves for it, and God knows some of the audience needs to see it, especially in the midst of the Civil Rights movement. More contexts and more insight into black life would have been nice. For example, I would have loved to see how Sarah Jane was treated by her peers before and after finding out she was black. We saw a little of this with her boyfriend, but it was only one scene and a fairly short one, and we only saw his reaction to her blackness and nothing about their relationship before.
Another quote is "it is nothing to be ashamed of" in reference to being black. This is another example of a beautiful quote that fails to be expanded on. The rest of the film, again, focuses almost solely on Annie as a loyal friend and maid while Sarah Jane denies her true self, but viewers don't get to see the wonders of black life. That is, we don't see ambition from Annie, acceptance from Sarah Jane, or even black culture (until the funeral scene, which is such a tiny sliver of the movie it barely counts at all).
Alongside these structural issues was the casting, and by extension, the acting, which I do not think helped the story at all. The 1934 version plays an important role in discussing this. Before I get to that, however, I should mention that the characters were renamed in the 1959 version.
Paola and Sarah Jane are the same characters. The casting is what is important here, though. Paola is played by a black actress while Sarah Jane is played by a white one, but they are both black characters.
Their roles are focused around wanting to pass as white, though, and the struggles that come with knowing they are actually black. The decision to cast a white actress to play a black role in the 1959 version plays into the neglect of the black stories that are already in the script because a white person can never understand what it is like to be black, so how can her portrayal be accurate? This was an incredibly sizable oversight on the casting and for the life of me, I cannot understand what they were thinking.
Even if the original movie had many of the same issues, Fredi Washington added a lot because she had some understanding of what the character actually was feeling because she had lived life as a black woman.
Washington's delivery in certain scenes was incredible, her big smile when working in a white store, her trembling lip and shaking voice when discussing her blackness, and her disgust with her mother are all noteworthy because they add depth to her feelings. Her performance felt so much more genuine, and I felt I could feel her internal hatred and remorse.
Susan Kohner just did not have that same experience so Sarah Jane, coming off as more of a jealous, angry teenager, suffered, and so did the story.
It's disappointing how in one of the few white movies that attempt to focus on race, its message is ultimately abandoned. I think the amount of time dedicated to the black characters should tell you enough about how this movie functions, let alone the casting decisions. It is a movie (in part) about race. It discusses race. But it neglects its black characters and black stories.
Many online reviews and comments, such as the one below, seem to believe this style was smart: to fool audiences into thinking that they were really watching Lora's story while the main focus was on Annie and Sarah Jane, but I disagree.
For white Hollywood at the time, this was undoubtedly very progressive, but I still think that it could have done more. Many of the topics mentioned by Better With Bob are good points, specifically the mammy stereotype (I would have liked to see more from Annie, but I understand and appreciate his insight as to why we did not) and Sarah Jane's feelings, but I feel like it wasn't enough and I don't personally believe they were handled as well as he claims. There wasn't enough time dedicated to expanding and explaining the stories and plotlines that had been set up.
Kudos to them for trying, but there is only so much that white people can know about black life so I don't think this should be held up as the "blueprint" of racial films.
I think this movie could have benefited from more time dedicated to the black stories, a black actress for Sarah Jane, and more black writers behind the scenes.
I enjoyed the movie in isolation, but its black characters and stories were not handled very well and I believe putting it on a pedestal simply for being "better" than other white movies at the time is not the right thing to do, because no matter how progressive it was, for a movie that prides itself on considering racial issues, it neglects its black stories, black characters, and black audience.
In Wil Haygood's book Colorization: One Hundred Years of Black Films in a White World, there is particular emphasis on the infamously racist blockbuster The Birth of a Nation (originally titled The Clansman). This makes sense, as the focus of the novel is to showcase the rise and fall of black directors, actors, writers, and producers through Hollywood, which was dominated by white stories, of which The Birth of a Nation is a prime example. It is unfortunate, then, that such an important line in this book is credited to the little bit of white history mentioned, and especially to such a racist and influential man.
In 1914, D. W. Griffith announced he was taking on a project that would adapt the 1905 novel The Clansman into a feature-length silent film. As Haygood notes, Griffith's motivation for adopting such a controversial series was to tell the "true" story of the American south, as it "hasn't been accurately told in history books" (Haygood 10).
This is a very important note within Griffith's entire narrative because he makes it clear that he is very proud of his Southern roots, especially in relation to white supremacy and the Ku Klux Klan. Griffith stated that he believed the Civil War and its aftermath had not been accurately portrayed in the history books of the time, and he wanted to make a film that would fix this misrepresentation.
He wanted to teach the truth of the South, the "Heart," in a sense. Too bad his truth is a bit ironic.
Griffith's idea of Southern Heart was white supremacy. Pure and blatant racism toward African Americans was coupled with the idolization of white women and (violent) white supremacist groups in his masterpiece of racist cinema. Black and mixed-race people are demonized and portrayed as lustful, violent, and manipulative, while white people are pure, brave, and honorable.
How is this the historical Southern truth, though? Griffith wanted to portray the Southern heart by glorifying slavery and racism, but he didn't actually include anything that went against his own agenda. He did not include any internal Confederate issues or mention how desertion was a large issue (in part because many Southerners did not support slavery or even want to succeed at all).
Considering he did not include these incredibly important parts of white Confederate history, it is no surprise he did not accurately portray African Americans, both free and enslaved, within his film, because to do so would mean to consider them as people. There was nothing about the harsh conditions slaves were forced into, or how they were intimidated and even tormented into submission.
For these reasons, then, Griffith clearly fails at his goal because "Black History is American History," (Dawkins) and to tell the truth about the South, one has to include everything, not just the stuff they like.
Personally, this raises a rather confusing question, at least to me. Griffith's racism is clear and unabashed, and he was obviously proud of it. However, his intentions behind adapting The Clansman into a movie was that he wanted to tell the truth about the South as it was never told in history books. By leaving so much out, however, he did not tell the truth about the South like he claimed he wanted to.
I believe the most likely answer is that this was intentional. He made it clear that he hated black people. He made it clear that he adored the Klan. He adapted a movie that supported his ideals and claimed it was true, so he could lure more people into his way of thinking. But I also wonder if there was some part of him that truly believed this was the real story. We've all seen the crazy conspiracy theories out there today, for example, lizard people controlling the world and giants living in the core of the Earth, and there are plenty of people who believe those. What if this, at least to him, was just some sort of conspiracy that he genuinely believed; because that truly seems to be the case in his 1930 interview.
