It’s a good time to be black.
It’s a good time to be a filmmaker.
It’s a great time to be both.
Throughout the course of American history and during the shorter span of theatrical filmmaking, neither of the phrases “good to be black,” or “good to be a filmmaker,” have frequently been repeated with much verve. But, in the year 2011, black is back, film is in, and the oft-maligned genre of ‘black film’ is finally something to be proud of.
We should be proud because it will soon be dead.
That’s right. Put on your best black suit or your midnight evening gown.
We’re going to a funeral.
‘Black film’ is ready to be assassinated and we should all rejoice.
Before we express our condolences or call 1-800-FLOWERS, let’s try to get a clearer understanding of what ‘black film’ has meant during the course of its lifetime.
We’ll call it an obituary of sorts.
Most people would likely agree that ‘black film’ constitutes any cinematic form which predominantly portrays the experiences of black characters and communities. Some might also argue that a project is not a ‘black film’ unless the primary talent behind the lens (writer, director, producer) is also of African descent. A valid argument, but if you asked most folks whether The Color Purple, Lean on Me, and Dreamgirls were black films – they would probably say yes.
I am a filmmaker, but that was not always the case. Before I mired myself in debt and plunged into the dark abyss of independent film, I accepted the definition of ‘black film’ as most people have. Once I became more acquainted with actual moviemaking processes, the term began to make me cringe. My friends and associates wondered if I planned to focus my directorial efforts solely on projects that would be categorized as ‘black films.’ I quickly let them know that I would not. Sadly, I have found that many people, both black and white, have had an unfortunate tendency to limit their perception of my storytelling capabilities if I admit to only wanting to portray ‘black’ stories. There is a reason for this. ‘Black film’ has had a mixed history. At times it has been triumphant. At other times it has been abominable.
There have been a number of grand achievements in the spectrum of black film. Do the Right Thing. Eve’s Bayou. Malcolm X. Rosewood. But, for each one of these, there are 20 films that aren’t worth the price of the celluloid they were shot on. For every unheralded classic like Killer of Sheep or Moolaadé, and for every contemporary gem like Black Dynamite, Restless City or Ballast (shot by Lance Hammer…a white man), there are dozens of gangster/hood/pimp/trick/hustler/mammy/sambo movies that ought to be banned as culturally obscene and intellectually pornographic.
For those of you who might not understand what’s so bad about a movie portraying an HIV positive gangster who shakes down the local pimp’s crack whores to hustle his way to the top of the dope game before putting on a dress, killing his competitors with an AK-47, and redeeming himself through the mercies of the local white savior…let me help you out. When you’re dealing with projects that fall within the realm of ‘black film,’ or in the realm of black art in general, it’s not just about whether the project is good or bad, entertaining or not. It’s also about something deeper than that.
It’s about the Coonery Factor.
The formula basically works like this:
[I (B + HS) + OF] / RBE = CF
Ignorance = I. Buffoonery = B. Hackneyed Stereotypes = HS. Overall Foolishness = OF. Real Black Experience = RBE. Coonery Factor = CF.
Most times, an unacceptably high Coonery Factor is apparent without even watching an entire movie. A trailer, a film summary, or even a publicity poster can often tell you exactly what you need to know. If your movie has a high CF, it probably shouldn’t have been made. If your movie has a high CF, you probably shouldn’t be allowed to touch a camera. I would rather make bad movies for the rest of my career before I made one project that failed the Coonery Factor test. That’s just how serious these coonish things are to many of us black folks.
Still, for a number of reasons that I won’t even attempt to explain…
Coonery sells.
Imagine that the hypothetical film I summarized a few paragraphs ago actually made it into theaters. Pretend it had a catchy title like MURDEROUS CROSS-DRESSIN’ GANGSTAS PIMPIN’ BITCHES. We’ll assume that its Coonery Factor is astronomical. I guarantee you that movie would probably gross more on it’s opening weekend than my 10 favorite ‘black films’ have combined.
Hopefully, no one tries to prove me wrong.
The enormous dichotomy between the themes and images commonly associated with ‘black film’ and those that are a prominent part of real black culture is nothing new. Somehow, black people are often believed to be a part of some sort of homogeneous, monolithic experience. Don’t believe the hype. My perceptions of life and blackness in America are bound to be quite different from many of the brothers and sisters that live in the same city, or even on the same block as I do.
The handful of things that black people are assumed to be, believed to be, and portrayed as being, only comprise a limited – if not inaccurate – scope of a much larger picture. These shortsighted projections are completely inadequate when held up to the ever growing portraiture of what black people actually are. The common representations of black Americans do not tend to portray the well-adjusted, well-educated, middle-class, law-abiding, productive members of society with whom I tend to acquaint myself with. I honestly believe that when many people think of the ‘black’ population, they don’t even consider the socio-economic group with whom I self-identify. I don’t sell drugs. I don’t pour champagne on half-naked women. I don’t own a gun. This might be a bit of a soapbox sermon, but it’s obvious that a lot of us still don’t understand how deeply entrenched these images are in the American psyche. It’s understandable. Centuries of cultural robbery are hard for any group of people to contend with. Many of the issues I’ve highlighted stem from the misguided values that black people hold against themselves. This makes the battle even more difficult for storytellers who seek to bring black experiences to the screen. Not only must we convince outsiders that we’re not what you think we are, we must convince our own people that we’re not what society expects us to be.
Just ask any Native American tribe about that battle.
The fight that emerging filmmakers must wage against established content creators is more frustrating than ever. Our fresh, divergent voices simply don’t mesh with the status quo. Many ‘successful’ black storytellers are now ready and willing to perpetuate the baseless stereotypes held against us for generations. They will gladly get paid to give American viewers exactly what they expect to see from black entertainers. Clearly these writers, directors, and producers don’t appreciate the fact that Western civilization has had a history of viewing black people as if they were an enemy of the human race. As if we were simply a group of subhuman organisms to be ridiculed and defeated. As a fellow filmmaker friend of mine once said, the American disposition towards black people has boiled down to ancient warfare tactics: “emasculate the men and objectify the women.” Now, instead of having these actions forced upon us, we choose to exploit our own.
So what exactly would it mean if all of my past and future works were to be relegated to the arena of ‘black film’? Does that mean I am only limited to making inane comedies, banal hood dramas, ridiculous romantic fodder, and ‘first black person to break a color barrier and achieve greatness’ (i.e. – who the hell knew they were so talented) biographical films?
No. It does not. Because the term ‘black film’ has no basis.
Think about it. Have you ever seen a ‘yellow film’? A ‘red film’? A ‘bi-racial film’? No, you haven’t. These terms don’t exist. When describing film types in a manner aside from the commonly used genre categories of drama, comedy, thriller, etc., the only sensible option left is to categorize them by geographical origin. A Spanish film. A British film. A Bulgarian film. To my knowledge, films are not typically categorized by ethnic or religious affiliation. A Jewish film. A Muslim film. A White film. If I told any of my professional associates that I was going to see the new Caucasian film at the Landmark Sunshine Cinema, they would surely look at me as if I had just had a brain aneurysm on the subway.
Honestly, how exactly does the fact that I am a black man who makes movies about black people imply that I have made a ‘black film’? I thought it was simply a film that happens to feature characters who have a skin tone that is of an olive, caramel, or mahogany hue? Maybe that is an improper assumption. Maybe ‘black film’ does mean something deeper than that. Let’s take a successful film and ‘black’ it out to see what ‘black film’ might really mean. Imagine if The Sixth Sense had an all black cast. Would it then be any less of a groundbreaking film? I doubt it. In fact, if the film had been made with black characters, it probably would have made more sense. Pun intended. A single, hard working mother, raising her emotionally scarred and socially inept child in a low-income household with no father figure in the picture? And only when a stable, hard-working, professional male figure steps into the picture does that child have a chance at overcoming his unfortunate proclivities? Sounds like a ‘black film’ to me.
But if The Sixth Sense were cast with black actors and actresses, it would likely be seen as a niche film that would likely struggle to gain widespread distribution and publicity. It would simply be a ‘black film’ that is not deserving of such recognition and support. ‘Black film’ does represent something deeper than we ever imagined. It is a term of marginalization. It is a way to instantly categorize a piece of art and commerce as separate from the mainstream, even if the work is just as artistically and commercially viable as its competitors.
I admit my perspective on ‘black film’ might seem to be a bit overdrawn. I grew up in a household with Ralph Wiley. I can’t help but be thorough. I’ve also had enough experience in the trenches to have a full understanding of what is going on around me. Because of my issues with ‘black film,’ I made my first dialogue project with the express intention of breaking down the illogical characterizations that unfortunately saddle black projects. It was a post-mumblecore comedy about the circumstances that brought together a lottery-obsessed, socially awkward man and an immature, Russian-accented woman. If your average film buff read the script, they’d probably think the film should have starred Michael Cera (Juno) and Zooey Deschanel (500 Days of Summer). I made it with two unknown black actors. What happened with the film? It received a lukewarm reception on the festival circuit. I subsequently made another film that sought to subvert many common stereotypes of ‘black film’ by telling a story that included some typical characteristics, but was driven by a narrative that was not integral to their presence. The circumstances were familiar. A single mother, unsavory adult male characters, a wayward child, an unforgiving urban environment. Drugs were used a plot device. A gun was seen on camera.
What happened with the film?
It went to 20+ festivals and garnered rave reviews.
The funny thing is, in an effort to rise above – or work my way around – some of the common pitfalls of black film, I fell victim to them. It is something that bothers me to this day. The only truly redeeming quality of the project – aside from the technical execution and actor performances – is that the protagonist walks away from everything around him at the end of the film. He leaves the very familiar world of ‘black film’ behind forever.
Despite my lingering reservations about the project, I understand why it was successful. It gave festival programmers something they could easily digest from a black storyteller. In that respect, I see it as no coincidence that the project turned me into an award-winning filmmaker…several times over.
Go figure.
Luckily, the days of ‘black film’ are numbered. We are close to being saved.
The Black New Wave has arrived.
Get ready. Get pumped.
At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, a small cadre of black filmmakers represented a much larger movement with a number of feature and short form projects that have begun to shepherd in a new era of melanin-rich cinema. While I would love to spotlight each of these filmmakers, I will focus on a few first time feature filmmakers whose work I know a bit more intimately.
Alrick Brown, born in Kingston, Jamaica and raised in Plainfield, New Jersey, burst into Park City with Kinyarwanda, a dramatic retelling of the tragic Rwandan Genocide of 1994. Much more than just a sentimental event film akin to Hotel Rwanda, Brown’s project examines the human element of the story, making the conflict seem more disturbing, yet more approachable than ever. The film instantly became a festival favorite after its sold out screenings, and it eventually received the World Cinema Audience Award. Also, according to the Sundance website, it is the highest rated of all 250+ films to participate in the festival this year. Despite this, Kinyarwanda is without a distribution deal. Hopefully, that will change soon.
Rashaad Ernesto Green, an actor turned filmmaker of black and Puerto Rican descent, landed in Sundance with his feature film, Gun Hill Road, a tense and moving family drama about an estranged father reconnecting with his closeted transgender son. While some might argue that this film might not classify as a ‘black film’ as it primarily features characters of Hispanic/Latino background, Green is certainly no stranger to crafting riveting portrayals of black drama. His 2008 short film, Premature, a teenage drama about a young girl dealing with the consequences of an unplanned pregnancy, has taken home just about every award that a black filmmaker could aspire to win on the festival circuit. Green has continued to build this momentum as Gun Hill Road inked a seven-figure distribution deal with the Motion Film Group for the worldwide sales and distribution rights of the film.
Dee Rees, who has been floating between top film festivals and filmmaker development labs for years, finally landed right where she ought to be: screening her debut feature film at the biggest film festival in America. Pariah, a coming-of-age story about a teenage girl leading a double life as a lesbian and a straight-laced daddy’s little girl, has received rave reviews. Executive Produced by Spike Lee, the project in itself is an achievement, but Rees has made even bigger noise since the film made its festival premiere. Not only has the production team inked a seven-figure distribution deal with Focus Features, but Rees has leveraged the success of Pariah into a two picture deal with the studio, meaning Focus has already shelled out the cash to acquire the rights to Rees’ next script. On top of that, Rees has also signed with the United Talent Agency, one of the industry’s top talent and literary hubs.
By the way, all of these filmmakers happen to come from a little film conservatory in New York City:
The NYU Graduate Film Program.
I am not the only one that knows this information about these filmmakers, but most of the public does not. Many within the film industry certainly do, but considering the way things have gone over the last century, they care the least.
Even with these recent successes, there are still many issues for black filmmakers to overcome. Access to financing. Exposure to a wider audience. Credible industry guidance. Then again, these issues not only plague black writers, directors, and producers, they haunt every auteur that has picked up a camera in the last 100 years.
Nevertheless, filmmaking is cheaper and more accessible than ever. The physical tools needed to craft a compelling cinematic work are everywhere. Many people have them in their own home and don’t even know it. Beyond that, digital distribution via the Internet has theoretically opened the playing field to just about everyone. Although, despite all this, the mental and instinctual tools needed to make a great film seem to be increasingly rare. The dearth of engaging storytelling in the industry is readily apparent. It might simply be a case of oversaturation, or it might be sheer laziness. Either way, a lot of these films are painful to watch.
Take a note Hollywood. Terrible movies don’t get any better when they’re in 3D. And great films aren’t made any worse by black casts.
I actually have a feature film that I’m hoping to shoot by next spring. The story tracks the affects of Hurricane Katrina on the members of a single household, packing the full weight and implications of the disaster into the lives of a small New Orleans family. One part family drama, one part coming of age story, the project is a provocative narrative displaying how divine incidents penetrate our heart, our mind, and our lives. The script has won a Spike Lee Production Fund Award and it is a winner of the Next 15 Minutes Screenplay Competition sponsored by Final Draft. Yet, I am still struggling to get the project off the ground. There are several prominent black actors who would be fantastic in the leading and supporting roles, but I’m $1.49999 million short of the $1.5 million I need to make the shoot happen.
Such is the conundrum of the independent filmmaker. Sadly, in the eyes of financiers, it doesn’t even matter that I’ve also come out of NYU.
Why have black filmmakers and the majority of black talent struggled so mightily in the film biz. The answer is a complete mystery. Black has been cool in most areas of entertainment for decades. Sports, music, comedy, you name it. Talents like Muhammad Ali, James Brown, Kobe Bryant, Dave Chappelle, Michael Jackson, Jay-Z, Michael Jordan, Rihanna, Chris Rock, Kanye West, Venus and Serena Williams, and Tiger Woods. There are even some non-black figures who have notoriously reached into the bountiful treasures of black culture to become some of the most prominent entertainers of all time. This is most notably exemplified by Elvis Presley’s heavy ‘borrowing’ of singer/songwriter Otis Blackwell’s lyrical talents, mannerisms, and performance style. More recently, Lady Gaga, arguably the most notable pop culture figure of this era, has long been said to be a slightly paler reincarnation of the 1980’s pop star and actress, Grace Jones, whose style and intrigue were of a similar vein. It is true that there are a few iconic black figures in the film industry that have broken the rules (i.e. – Denzel Washington, Morgan Freeman, anybody with the last name Smith), but the majority of black actors and production talent in the business are continuously marginalized. This is not because black storytellers don’t work hard, it is because these individuals are told that their projects aren’t marketable enough, or because they are assumed to have a limited appeal as performers because of the color of their skin.
The good news is that we now have the tools to change these trends. The black talent is here. Ultimately, the successes that filmmakers like Alrick Brown, Rashaad Ernesto Green, and Dee Rees have had are great, but those long shot distribution deals are not the preferred formula. What we need is a consistent pipeline of financing and distribution options to help disseminate great black voices to the world. There are players out there with the means to do it. Many of them are black. Trailblazers like Ava DuVernay, founder of the African-American Film Festival Releasing Movement (AFFRM), have the right idea, but her efforts should just be the beginning. There are legions of talented black voices that are ready to play their role in taking the Black New Wave to the forefront of the entertainment industry. We’re not asking anyone to park a dump truck of cash in front of us, we’re simply asking for the opportunity to show you how beautifully diverse our stories can be.
If you want a glimpse at the army of black talent that is ready to drive the Black New Wave forward, check out some of the following names: Frances Bodomo, Isaac Brody, Jamal Caesar, Ryan Carmichael, Jonas Carpigano, Jarreau Carrillo, Samantha Chamblee, Keith Davis, Dominique Deleon, Tiisetso Dladla, Paul Ellington, Uzoma Emukah, Jay Franklin, Mykwain Gainey, Fred Guerrier, Tamika Guishard, Tahir Jetter, Michael Johnson, Kiara Jones, Marquette Jones, Nikyatu Jusu, Shaka King, Michael Larnell, Greg Lemaire, Marc Loriston, Edward McDonald, Carlos Miller, Darius Clark Monroe, Kia Neal, Julius Onah, Kiandra Parks, Daniel Patterson, Rauzar Patton, Bobby Poole, Julius Pryor IV, Kiel Adrian Scott, Jackie J. Stone, Randy Wilkins, Michael Wood, and Yared Wube, amongst others.
They’re mostly from NYU too.
So, all you upwardly mobile individuals and forward-thinking entities out there, I ask you:
Who is willing to propel black directors, writers, and actors to the top of Hollywood?
Who is ready to make boatloads of money off of culturally relevant stories that the general public yearns to see?
Who is prepared to kill ‘black film’ and rebrand it as what it ought to be known as:
The human experience.
Just a few shades darker. And a little bit more cool.
>CW<


















I really commend you for your candid thoughts and introspections.
I wonder how you can expand your thoughts to further examine being a black independent filmmaker who is not from NYU. I know that’s not your reality, so there’s only so much you can personally express from that vantage point. But most of the people that you mentioned are from NYU. This might be because those are the people you have most access to, but I think we’re narrowing our field of vision by primarily focusing on NYU students and alum when talking about the future of black independent filmmaking, because there’s a certain amount of privilege NYU students and alum have that other black independent filmmakers do not have, all of which can make their experiences and opportunities as a black independent filmmaker much different than the black indie filmmaker who didn’t have that kind of access and resources. Now, there are definitely black indie filmmakers who didn’t come out of NYU, who have earned a significant amount of acclaim and recognition for their work, and to be honest, I tend to be more interested in hearing about their journeys, because they’ll much more mirror my own experiences. I graduated with an MFA in film and video from Temple University, and have had an incredibly difficult time in establishing networks and connections that would help in the creation of my work, or get my films in the hands of programmers, or have access to labs, or programs or even actors. But I’ve managed to grind my way through some hurdles, but everyday is a challenge€ now, regardless of what film school you go to, there is a significant amount of grinding and networking you have to do; it’s not a cakewalk, and going to NYU definitely doesn’t guarantee the making of a feature film or a premier at Sundance. But there’s something to be said about “being an alum from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts” (versus being an Alum from a lesser-known school, like Temple) or having Spike Lee as your advisor. All of this helps. And I’m genuinely happy for those people in these privileged positions, and am glad some folks are able to parlay these opportunities into making films with different kinds of black presences on screen. But this is not the reality for most indie black filmmakers. How do those filmmakers, which includes myself, build networks and connections and a certain level of prestige for themselves, that will help get their work out there and give them access to making even more films?
You are a slick cat Mr. Wiley! The first half of this article had me all ready to dispute your every word and tell how we have to meet people where they are and give them what they want. I was going to call you a Spike-ite that doesn’t respect anything that was made South of the Mason-Dixon. By the end of the article I found myself just agreeing and agreeing and agreeing. I appreciate how you address these major issues that need to be addressed by the people that can articulate it properly. (Your law degree is definitely coming in handy) It has me really looking forward to the future of American cinema. But there will always be a place in my heart for “Black Art”. But that’s just me, hopefully my children will see it as art by Black people. I remember feeling extremely empowered wearing FUBU, and rightfully so. But I also know that FUBU didn’t last long. I see now that if you had any say in the creation of that clothing line it would’ve been called FABU, For All By Us. That is what I look forward to in your film making!
chinonye,
pretty much everything that i talked about in the article carries across all areas independent filmmaking where black people are the primary creators. i did talk about some of the inroads that have happened with recent alums of NYU, but i brought it up simply because it was an interesting trend. and because i happen to be a part of the small tribe that these people represent. i did try to emphasize that these folks are just a small part of a much larger movement. there are a number of non-NYU filmmakers that i could have mentioned, but if i tried to remember all of those talented people…i would have had a list of far too many names. all of us are fighting the same fight. there’s no easy answers either. all we can do is make quality work and try to market those projects as best we can. networking is vital to the process. but, i also feel like i shouldn’t be giving out any advice. i’m in the midst of trying to pull together my first feature film and the odds are certainly against me. none of us have a yellow brick road laid out in front of us. we all have to work our butts off to get to Oz. once i have a feature under my belt, then i might have more insight into making real strides in the business.
hello again!
i definitely wasn’t implying you or anybody else has a yellow brick road because they came from NYU. I think black filmmakers do face a lot of the same challenges, and have to navigate a lot of the same issues, regarding identity. Your article is far from an advice column, but it does suggest a call to action and presents some of those actions that are being taken place. I’d love to hear about some more of those actions (including your own, after you finish your feature film) from a diverse group of filmmakers.
And I definitely want to purport an image of divisiveness; we’re definitely all in this together. Just like we need as many different images of blackness on screen as possible, we also need as many different people telling these stories.
sorry, i meant i definitely DON’T want to purport an image of divisiveness.
cool. it sounds like we’re on the same page. trust me, i know more than anyone that having a film degree doesn’t do much in terms of practical benefits. the knowledge once acquires is great, but the degree itself i pretty much only good for teaching. i wish that i did have more advice to give. echoing Mr. Miles Maker’s statements below, i think the best thing to do is to be courageous in your storytelling and networking. everything else will follow. i want to hear more black perspectives from across spectrum. for all i know, the next great filmmaker might crawl up out of a garbage can! the quality and originality of the storytelling is all that i care about!
jaaye,
haha. i know that many people might get a bit antsy about some of the things that i’m saying…but know that my heart is in it. that FABU comment is great. For All By Us. i like that. i’m definitely not trying to say that black people shouldn’t make films that appeal to our people. they should. if we don’t, no one else will. i just want to broaden the horizons of what people expect to see when they encounter black faces on screen. like i said in the article, i think people often use the label of ‘black film’ to lessen the impact that a film should have as a piece of art. art is art. you know i 100% support black creativity. i’m just tired of people assuming that black art can only fit into a particular set of categories and appearances.
Thanks for this Cole!
We struggle with our need to create viable (profitable) content vs. our desire to share fresh new ideas and experiences and promote conversation through storytelling. However we’re seeing diminishing marginal returns for ‘Black’ cinema properties, so we have no other choice but to create and innovate and break new cinematic ground to survive moving forward. Names aside, we’re watching variations of the same characters in similar situations in perpetuity through the eyes of countless creative voices with undoubtedly countless story ideas to produce than what they’re currently seeing. Fear is a motherfucker!
My own approach to storytelling is simply to discover good writing–then remixing its cast to create movies that transcend race in theme & subject and relatability with roles that just happen to feature characters of color. I believe Will Smith seeks the same. Generally speaking, our challenge lies in our limited view of the world; our circumstantial perspective in storytelling. Our creative voices must extend beyond the ‘hood to explore the world beyond it. Writers usually conceive using one or more of the following:
1) experience;
2) observation; and/or
3) imagination.
We need to be more imaginative!
“We need to be more imaginative!” – Amen
Cole, your father sure spoke through you on this piece. I hate to bring up the subject, but your dad has got to be very proud of you at this writing. A Father is a man, as such his son is also! You can quote me on that you. Peace.
preciate it, c-los. doing my best to keep the Wiley standard going.
I feel you on the black New Wave thing. We’ve began talking about that very subject in the editing labs at Columbia a fews back.
It is a good time to be black and a filmmaker.
Can’t say I agree with all your views about black film.
And also, I’m just trying to figure out if this is a NYU big up or a piece that talks about the black New Wavists across the board, because you left a lot of DGA East Winners, ABFF Winners and Sundance appearees from Columbia University’s Film Program. Plus Edward osei-gyimah and Hezikiah Lewis form UCLA just to name a few.
-W
you’re definitely right bruh, it is a good time to be black and in the biz. the piece is definitely not just an NYU big up. i would only say that a very small portion of the article talks about NYU at all. i also mentioned early on that all the folks mentioned are put a piece of a much larger movement. i know there are plenty of people that got left out, but there’s no way that i could have listed everyone that’s making waves in the independent film game. it was hard enough getting names of people from NYU and i go to school with them. even though i tried my best, i probably left quite a few black NYU-ers out of the mix as well. definitely no disrespect intended. just didn’t even try to branch out too far in listing folks because then it would be almost impossible to draw the line of when to stop. we can talk about award winners…but then what about the non-award winners who still make dope projects? which awards are even the most relevant? etc., etc.
Cole I heard this interview on NPR a few weeks ago, then today I read your piece and saw AFFRM and Ava DuVernay tagged at the bottom. Just wanted to share the link to the interview.
Jeremy from Pfugerville
http://www.npr.org/2011/03/10/134424614/new-group-promotes-black-themed-films
hey jerm,
will definitely check out the interview! thanks for sharing!
Great piece Cole!
I think the discussion about defining our own future is needed and should be continued. For instance, is something lost as a byproduct of no longer branding our films with our race? Sure others don’t do it, but is the black experience like any other race’s? I personally agree with not having the title to define my films for me.
I think we are in such an advantageous time in our art. There are a lot of lessons to be learned from the pioneers before us and a lot of opportunities to empower ourselves for the future. Self-definition gives us the language to steer our own careers. As hopeful as I am about the mentioned new films and distribution channels, I become equally cynical because I’ve had my hopes up before, i.e. the 1990’s. What needs to happen is a pooling, a network, a nurturing, a resource sharing and growing mechanism to continue to cultivate new disparate talents from creative to business, so we don’t have just another couple of waves in the ocean.
thanks, maxwell! i definitely support all forms of black art, but there’s just a question of whether such pieces should be strictly defined as such. i feel that it’s a quick way to close doors to certain audiences. that shouldn’t be the case, but it is.
we will continue to expand our networks and make the Black New Wave a surefire reality. i will not rest until that happens.
Fantastic Read. Inspiring. Informative. Transparent.
I appreciate you sharing your views & educating fellow actors, directors and film makers.
God Speed with your feature film!
Chasity
thank you, chasity! one word particularly struck me in your commentary. that was ‘transparent.’
i don’t think many folks have really commented on the fact that i threw some of my own work under the bus. arguably my ‘best’ work. just wanted to be honest about my journey as an artist and how i’ve acquired the perspective that i have right now. better to learn these things early than not at all!
Cole,
I wasn’t able to get through the entire “blog” so, I probably don’t have the complete understanding of the message you are trying to articulate, but it seems to me that the explanations to the observations and frustrations you’ve identified can be simplified to demand and risk. I think you’d agree our upbringings are fairly similar, however, my perspective is, as it should be, completely different from yours given my professional and educational background in business / financial services. There are certainly circumstances when people are unaware of what they demand. For example, (and I’m paraphrasing) Steve Jobs believes that it is his job to create products that people unknowingly have insatiable demand for. He’s done a pretty good job, and, as a result, Apple and Pixar have been extremely successful, however you measure success. However, the risk of pursuing such ventures is often extremely high. Some say, “if you build it, they will come…” The idea that people demand the types of projects you’re speaking of may very well be true, but, then again, it may not. It may be profitable (measured by dollars) or it may not.
In a way, I think you’ve already answered your question. You have already identified the past projects that we have never heard of. Why didn’t they explode? Why didn’t word of mouth eventually lead to a change in popular demand? Why can’t India Irie or Norah Jones sell out Madison Square Garden, but Charlie Sheen can? As you well know, the American culture is extremely picky and fickle, largely driven by what is “popular”. Without the benefit of reasonably congruent historical parallels or other observable evidence to draw upon, from a business perspective, the risk premium demanded to draw capital is simply too high – the possiblity of losing the investment too great. Furthermore, different but related to the topic, few people have a mindset of abundance. Instead, people tend to be of the view that appetite is finite and/or the public’s capacity for “x” is not unlimited. So, people intentionally, “bo-guard” with bariers to entry to protect their own self-interest. I would not expect this type of behavior to change anytime soon….
PS – Website looks great. And, Happy Belated Birthday
big sterl,
my apologizes for the late response. got sidetracked by a bunch of different things. definitely enjoyed reading your viewpoints on the matter. you are definitely correct. risk and demand are huge parts of any business…especially the film biz. i’m definitely not a believer in the ‘if you build it, they will come’ philosophy. you could end up building something that most people simply don’t want. even worse, it could be something that just isn’t that good. i actually think that some filmmakers are delusional enough to believe that the filmmaking is a craft that is immune to the rules of business and finance. i definitely know better. as i’m sure you already know, not every product is expected to have the huge impact in the marketplace that apple or pixar products do. very few films truly ‘blow up’ and become household brands. most of the films that do reach that status have huge P&A budgets to raise awareness about their release. while i wouldn’t expect the feature that i’m trying to get financed to break any box office records, I do believe that it will be a profitable endeavor. i wouldn’t be trying to make the movie if i didn’t believe that it had an audience. that are all kinds of projects that fill a particular niche and perform quite well at the levels in which they are playing ball. true, not every act can sell out MSG, but plenty of artists make a nice living packing out the House of Blues, the 930 club, etc. that said, i’ve got projects in development that could play at various levels. things that could be shot at under $1 million…to very high concept material. as a first time filmmaker, i’m trying to step into the game with a specialty project that has the potential to perform quite well at that level. i guess the main point of what i was trying to get at with this piece is that there are certain entrenched conceptions of ‘black film’ that spring from places well beyond the box office. i merely hope that the time will soon come when we’ll stop making assumptions about project based on their ‘blackness’ and start looking at them in ways that reach beyond their ‘ethnic appeal.’ is it unreasonably optimistic? sure. but as a writer and entrepreneur it’s certainly necessary to have these sorts of thoughts. the immediate goal would be to make profitable films that capitalize on a smaller scale…eventually building the scope of future projects until they are playing at the highest levels of the industry. in that process, hopefully black filmmakers can do enough to show the public that the complexion of the actors in front of the camera is certainly relevant, but when it comes to the universal experiences of the human condition…it doesn’t matter so much at all.
and thanks for the bday wishes bro. those HU days are gettin’ further and further away!