On: Unapologetic Blackness & Film
2:05 PM
I wanted to enjoy Netflix's reboot of Spike Lee's preliminary oeuvre, She's Gotta Have It, so badly. Mainly because of the love I have for Crooklyn and Malcolm X (arguably Lee's best works in my book) and a residual guilt for falling wide-mouthed asleep during Do The Right Thing, but something about this reboot just wasn't sticking like glue for me. Unlike many, I claim no fictive kinship to Lee - who's storytelling has often been hit or miss for me - so stepping into this show sans bias and with only brief summary of its story seemed smart. Avoiding the trepidation which crept over me once I saw the previews and Nola Darling's septum piercing, I pushed forward because I really wanted this to work and was ACTIVELY rooting for this reboot to be so much better than what I felt it was and knew it could become.
Then came episode one.
The characters were over the top and disconnected with the times in a way that felt jarring (be honest, if a man like Mars Blackmon approached you in 2017, you would fry his ass up), and the lack of consistent plot paired alongside a truthfully unlikable protagonist suffering from a total detachment to reality (I'm still shaking at Nola Darling's living quarters and the fact that she only has one roommate in GENTRIFIED BROOKLYN) made me feel like I was watching a show antithetical to the rave reviews and recommendations I had received.
To be completely honest, I gave up my binge watch midway through episode three. Somewhere between Nola's careless purchase of a Little Black Dress and her dinner with one Jamie Overstreet, I came to the realization that I just could not be bothered with a faux revolutionary telling of an, "I don't believe in labels, but I'm a polyamorous, pansexual", aloof, "quirky" black woman coming into her sexual own. Everything about the three episodes I watched evoked long, fatigued sighing, extensive "girl...what?!"-ing and prolonged eye-rolling to the point where I knew letting go and letting God with this show was the only way to salvage my health after feeling as though I was experiencing severe whiplash.
I'm sorry, it just wasn't for me.
The sex on this show - an integral part of the it she's just gotta have - was amusingly played up for laughs, the characters felt dated, the relationships - both romantic and platonic - were unworthy of rooting for, and the dialogue felt stage-play-ish; so stilted and uneven in delivery that conversations sounded more so like social justice soliloquies eerily reminiscent of the multitudes of threads I had seen on Tumblr and Twitter.
I'm sorry, it just wasn't for me.
The sex on this show - an integral part of the it she's just gotta have - was amusingly played up for laughs, the characters felt dated, the relationships - both romantic and platonic - were unworthy of rooting for, and the dialogue felt stage-play-ish; so stilted and uneven in delivery that conversations sounded more so like social justice soliloquies eerily reminiscent of the multitudes of threads I had seen on Tumblr and Twitter.
Again, I'm sorry, but I just could not be bothered.
I already barely enjoy the abuse of buzzwords on those platforms, I didn't want it on my television shows too.
Now, I will not harp on She's Gotta Have It because I did stop watching before the end of episode three thus my opinion and perspective is only about 30 percent worth paying attention to. Though the storytelling did have its faults, I cannot lie, the cinematography and soundtrack were both gorgeous and are the sole reasons why I would give this show another shot. However, I will say this show has once again ticked the niggling feelings of discomfort I've had with a lot of these 'pro-black' marketed films and television shows.
See, I've noticed that a lot of contemporary, mainstream-targeted, big screen art centering black people or blackness has come to rely on discursive narratives culled directly from social media, and therein lies my gripe. For once, just once, I would like to watch a mainstream television show and/or film, starring black people or an all black ensemble not centered on vacantly slinging out hot button talking points in the hopes of becoming a Social Media Conversation Piece.
See, I've noticed that a lot of contemporary, mainstream-targeted, big screen art centering black people or blackness has come to rely on discursive narratives culled directly from social media, and therein lies my gripe. For once, just once, I would like to watch a mainstream television show and/or film, starring black people or an all black ensemble not centered on vacantly slinging out hot button talking points in the hopes of becoming a Social Media Conversation Piece.
*Sighs*
If it is not integral to the central plot - please keep this tool's usage to a cute minimal.
Or at leash flesh out its usage so the act doesn't seem superficial and one-note.
See: Atlanta and Insecure.
See: Atlanta and Insecure.
Listen, I understand and recognize the importance of telling true stories, but at what point in time will mainstream black art catch up to an experience not wholly centered upon some sort of tokenism or overdramatized -ism? It's starting to feel as though this style of pithy writing is meant to impress the fact that the words are being spoken rather than highlight why and how they are spoken. To simplify, it almost feels as though there is a lull in creativity that relies on awkwardly lifting pieces of a conversation and mashing buzzwords together to create some sort of 'Social Justice' superlative game. This sacrifice in creativity has been overlooked by those who so crave representation, they actually believe and deem the stories they are witnessing are good and worthy.
Not to say that there aren't or haven't been any good and worthy films or shows which have relied upon this technique, rather holding a mirror up to the flaws of society and creatively reflecting the image is often one of my own personal favorite techniques of any writer and director.
It has just begun to feel like what legend, Viola Davis said:
There has been a craving, a rampant hunger for the arts and entertainment sphere to return to a time of 'unapologetic blackness' and 'black girl magic' and 'black boy joy' and other pro black-esque phrases whose meanings have quickly regressed into caricature or semantic satiation, and I get it. There was a time when black people, and I mean ALL black people of ALL colors, were shining on the big screen in a way that feels so rare today that those in the big chairs have made ill-advised decisions to churn out content they believe will satiate and satisfy.
I'm not satisfied.
Gifs via davis-viola
There has been a craving, a rampant hunger for the arts and entertainment sphere to return to a time of 'unapologetic blackness' and 'black girl magic' and 'black boy joy' and other pro black-esque phrases whose meanings have quickly regressed into caricature or semantic satiation, and I get it. There was a time when black people, and I mean ALL black people of ALL colors, were shining on the big screen in a way that feels so rare today that those in the big chairs have made ill-advised decisions to churn out content they believe will satiate and satisfy.
I'm not satisfied.
I recognize the effort, and I commend you for trying.
But I'm not satisfied.
0 comments