The Black New Wave: Film is Finally Finding the Right Color

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.

Yes, Tracy. I'm serious.

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.

R.I.P. 'Black Film'

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.

Restless City by Andrew Dosunmu - One of the many black independent films you've never heard of...

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 next black blockbuster???

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.

Different cultures...common understanding...

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.

Nelly's Tip Drill. It created much more of a stir on my college campus than academics did.

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.

Seen that new 'Caucasian Film'? You know, the one about vampires?

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.

Would the movie become less likable if their faces were black?

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.

Would you call any project a 'Colored Moving Picture'? Good. Don't call it a 'Black Film' either.

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.

Kinyarwanda - Audience Award Winner at Sundance

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.

Gun Hill Road starring Esai Morales

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.

Pariah starring Adepero Oduye

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.

The heart of the Black New Wave

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.

My Feature Project - Will it ever be made?

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.

Sidney Poitier redefined blackness for a generation of entertainers. Now it's our turn.

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.

All we want to do is get our hands dirty

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 GuerrierTamika Guishard, Tahir Jetter, Michael Johnson, Kiara Jones, Marquette JonesNikyatu 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<

The sky is the limit

About >CW<

Colen 'Cole' Wiley is an award-winning writer and filmmaker living in New York City. For more information please visit the Team HIP page.