Paris as a haven for American Blacks: Alan Govenar's MYTH OF A COLORBLIND FRANCE

The not-so-aptly titled documentary MYTH OF A COLORBLIND FRANCE -- which makes this storied country of hoped-for Liberté, égalité, fraternité seem more negative than it is (or at least was) -- actually offers viewers the opportunity to discover or maybe remind themselves of just how welcoming France became for African-Americans starting with World War I and continuing very nearly through present-day rise of nasty white nationalism in far too many countries worldwide, including the USA (which hardly needs more of this shit).  No country is really colorblind unless its populace is actually blind, a condition that maybe exists in an old Star Trek episode or a nice aphorism ("In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king"). Racism might exist everywhere, one speaker points out, "but in France, I could do something about it."

As co-writer (with Jason Johnson-Spinos) and director of this fine new documentary, Alan Govenar (The Beat Hotel, You Don't Need Feet to Dance), shown at right, offers us viewers a wonderful and rich contribution to the history of African-American culture and the part that France (well, mostly Paris) played in all this.

While the filmmaker hits the expected high points -- Josephine Baker (below), James Baldwin (further below), Richard Wright -- he also includes a lot more examples of lesser lights whose interesting stories and thoughtful musings add much to this history of Black ex-pats in Paris. 

And, yes, as certain reviews have pointed out, the documentary jumps all over the place, back and forth from person to person, time period to time period. Yet what it has to tell us is so worth hearing (and seeing) that TrustMovies certainly did not mind these travels. 

My least favorite sections are given to some music-and-poetry improvisations that seemed to me a bit puerile, yet whenever that poet speaks of his experiences and philosophy, the movie immediately gets back on track. (That's poet James Emanuel, left, with saxophonist Chansse Evans, below.) 

We learn about everyone from famous 19th Century playwright Victor Séjour to jazz musician Sidney Bechet, the famous Bricktop club, mystery writer Chester Himes and especially the still-going-strong sculptor/poet/novelist Barbara Chase-Riboud (below), whose novel Sally Hemings became a kind of touchstone for the continuing American hypocrisy regarding slavery and its history. 

Of special note (among a lot that's already pretty special) is famous subway graffiti artist known as Quik (below), who tells us of his first trip to Europe and what happened on his first morning out and about in (I think it was) Amsterdam. 

Even if there is information you will already have known present in the documentary, much of this is well worth recalling, and what and who you will not have known about should make the film a must-see for anyone interested in Paris, history, and Black lives and culture -- then and now.

From First Run Features and running 86 minutes, Myth of a Colorblnd France opened this weekend in virtual theaters across the country.  Click here to see where and how you can view the film.

Rick Famuyiwa's DOPE is smart, funny entertainment--with a necessary message

You'll know you're in good hands almost immediately as DOPE begins, sporting a bevy of definitions for the title word: drugs, a dumb person, and something that's good (as opposed to wack -- or maybe it's whack -- which is bad). That last definition may take you back to the parlance of the 1980s, a time period much treasured by the movie's leading young man, Malcolm (played with a fine combination of budding everything -- from sex appeal to intelligence to, yes, even maturity -- by Shameik Moore. Malcolm wasn't around in those "halcyon" 80s days, but he loves the music of that period, which has inspired him and his friends to create some more of it. The movie was written and directed by Rick Famuyiwa (the filmmaker is shown below), who, back in 1999 gave us the overpraised but still worthwhile The Wood. After several movies in between, Dope proves his best so far and by far.

Above all Dope is an entertainment -- not a bad level to which to aspire, particularly when the outcome is as entertaining as it is in this case. Mr. Famuyiwa's screenplay -- his dialog, narration, pacing, events depicted and in particular his understanding of the way the world works in the black ghettos of Los Angeles (the movie is set in Inglewood, California, a city TrustMovies lived in back in the late 1940s and early 50s and recalls rather fondly) -- is smart, often witty and whenever it gets preachy, it does so in a way that should make you smile, if not outright laugh. As a director, Famuyiwa seems to be trying some new stylistic tricks, most of which work pretty well. His speedy cutting between scenes, occasionally going back to show us what was left out, or substituting a bit of fantasy for reality all seem in service to telling his story in the most appropriate, cliche-free way.

The key to the movie's success lies in Famuyiwa's focusing on kids who are geeks and nerds, rather than the usual street kids with problems we most often see in movies about blacks and other "minorities." This allows us to enjoy a kind of "revenge of the nerds, black-style." For most white audiences, this will mean the opportunity to identify with these kids more easily than usual. The movie's keenest insight, however, may be that, to succeed, our hero must be both "street" and not. How he does this -- involving a successful pillar of the black community who acts as adviser and mentor to the kids (played with exquisite nuance by Roger Guenveur Smith) -- proves Dope's ace-in-the-hole, grounding the film in a sad reality, even as it teases and entertains us into such high spirits.

The supporting cast includes the likes of  Kimberly Elise as Malcolm's mom, Tony Revolori (above, right and everyone's favorite bellhop from The Grand Budapest Hotel), Zoë Kravitz (below, right) as the apple of Malcolm's eye, and Kiersey Clemons (above, left) as the lesbian high-schooler and gal pal, Diggy. As strong as the movie is concerning its hero, it is equally weak regarding most of the subsidiary characters, who are, for the most part, one dimensional. This does not destroy the film by any means but it makes it a long way from great. Yet, as I say, it's a smart entertainment, as well as a look at an under-served portion of the black community. And that, these days, is nothing to sneeze at.

From Universal Pictures and running 104 minutes, Dope hit the streets on DVD/Blu-ray/Digital HD yesterday, October 13--for rental or purchase.

In Lotfy Nathan's 12 O'CLOCK BOYS, Baltimore dirt bikers hit the city's asphalt, as Pug looks on

One of the more interesting features of documentaries these days is the manner in which the filmmaker decides to let the audience "in" on things: how he or she brings us to the subject at hand. The old-fashioned way (this can still work beautifully) is via simple narration, introducing us to who or what is up for grabs. Newer filmmakers seem to prefer the more challenging route (for them and for us), often leaving out narration entirely and just tossing us into the mix by letting us observe and piece things together as best we can. Bombay Beach is one good example of the latter form, and now comes another, perhaps not quite so successful, but certainly worth viewing: 12 O'CLOCK BOYS from first-time filmmaker Lotfy Nathan (shown below).

Fortunately, our largest and most appealing point-of-entry here is via a boy nick-named Pug, whom we come to know best of all the characters on hand. A twelve-year-old when filming commenced, Pug ages a year or so before the film concludes, and it is through his eyes that we are introduced to the 12 O'Clock Boys of the title: dirt-bikers who enjoy speeding around on their bikes (meant for the outback) on the somewhat busy city streets of Baltimore, Maryland. Pug, shown below, is in love with these guys and their speed and ability to lean back on the bikes as they race along until their bodies, as well as their machines, are practically perpendicular to the street (hence, I guess, the film's title -- as they are nearly in the 12 o'clock position.

Pug has tried to join the group a number of times, but clearly, he's too young and too small at this point to be able to ride with them. But, boy, does he try. We also meet his mom, Coco, along with some of the bikers -- Wheelie Wayne and Superman, among them -- and get a little history of these sort-of heroes. Evidently sometime back, a DIY video of them and their riding went viral, turning them into "stars" -- at least locally.

The movie opens, however, with the angry and unpleasant voice of what sounds like somebody calling into a radio show, complaining about the 12 O'Clock Boys and how dangerous they and their bikes really are. The local police may have it in for the boys, too, but from what we hear, those police are not allowed to pursue them for fear of causing further accidents. Evidently the boys have caused a few of their own, though whether this is truth, hearsay or police propaganda, we can't be sure. And Mr. Nathan does little in the way of investigation to clarify this, or much else, in his very homemade movie.

I may have missed an earlier reference to a fellow named Tibba -- whom we meet at his own funeral and later learn was Pug's brother. At that funeral, two women get into a cat-fight. Why?  Who knows? We also never learn just how and why Tibba himself died (an accident, somebody notes). Lest we find ourselves rooting too thoroughly for Pug and his mom, we see Coco out for a possible date night at a bar, coming on to a fellow (or is he coming on to her?), and then we view a scene in which Pug mistreats his dog. I am guessing that this is so we'll have been given a warts-and-all look at the family. But the filmmaker resolutely does not want to get near anything resembling an "interview, " in which questions about desires, intentions, lifestyles or interests might be raised -- and character thus brought a bit more to the fore.

We meet a policeman named Lemon, whom the Boys feel is out to get them. Says one: "Fuck all dirty cops, and I'm gonna say that till I die." Lemon is then given a sentence-or-two opportunity to defend himself. From what we're shown here, the Boys may be a bit of a nuisance, but they're hardly the frightened white man's version of a black Hell's Angels troupe. On the other hand, if the Boys are doing dangerous stuff, they should can it, or at least find spaces more conducive to their biking feats. Might they? Would they? Who knows? While Nathan -- who shot, produced and directed the film -- does not takes sides, neither does he give us enough information to draw much of a conclusion.

What he does do (aside from letting us glance into this relatively new kind of pastime and group), intentionally or not, is allow us to see yet another example of a society in which the power appears to be, still and ever, inherently racist, holding blacks back from anything that might give them pleasure or allow them to show some skill. At the same time, he shows these blacks to be interested in nothing more edifying than riding a bike into that 12 o'clock position. What -- there are no basketball courts around the city? Or -- hello -- a library? Well, maybe not: budget cuts and the new economy, ya know...

12 O'Clock Boys ends with a bit of what-if, wish-fulfillment "verite," that's quite dear, and which makes me wonder if Mr. Nathan has not seen and enjoyed Bombay Beach, too.  His movie, from Oscilloscope, opens this Friday, January 31, in 21 cities -- from Miami to New York, Baltimore to L.A. You can check out the entire list of playdates, cities and theaters by clicking here.

Could an hour be spent any better than at Christine Turner's HOMEGOINGS? Nope.

The film is only 57 minutes long, but my god, how much worthwhile thought and genuine emotion is produced here! HOMEGOINGS -- a documentary about a couple of funeral homes (one in Harlem, the other in Branchville, South Carolina), the man who started them, his family and the clients he serves -- is one whopper of an experience: the kind of film you finish shaking your head (and maybe a few tears away) in wonderment, thinking, "Who'd have imagined this?"  Initially, you might think you've stepped into something like a black version of Bernie, Richard Linklater's marvelous movie about a famous funeral director in Texas. But, no, this is a quiet little documentary, and an amazingly good one, too.

As directed by filmmaker Christine Turner, shown at left, the film offers our current, multicolored citizenry (especially those who tend, as so many of us do, to avoid ruminating on the eventuality of our oncoming death) the chance to experience a side of black culture that we seldom see. Sure, the funeral procession that climaxes Imitation of Life still moves us and speaks volumes, but here we see that -- and so much more.

In telling the story of Isaiah Owens (above, shown plying his trade) -- a South Carolina boy who was, as he explains, "just born to do what I'm doin'," which is, of course, arranging for the funerals of his peers and preparing their bodies for a final showing -- Ms Turner, Mr. Owens, and his family and friends manage quite a feat: They demystify death to a surprising degree, helping turn it into something not so dreaded nor fearsome -- even as they give the ol' grim reaper his due respect.

From almost the beginning -- as we hear a simply terrific and funny eulogy and know the service is going to prove, as one of the mourners explains it, "a sad good time" -- we're laughing along with the rest of the assembled crowd, and then suddenly find ourselves quite moved. The movie keeps working this kind of sly magic. Owens' own father was a sharecropper, so we also learn a little history of how those people paid for funerals back in the day.

Ms Turner never pushes this, but her film also gives us a sense of the injustice of racism as experienced over decades. "For blacks," one person notes, "death brings us justice." (How many whites do you imagine think of their life in this way?) We also get a strong sense of how the current economy is effecting the funeral business. A big funeral is very expensive, as we learn early in the film, when a woman nicknamed "Red" plans her own with the help of Mr. Owens. By the time she's done, the bill has totaled almost $10,000.  In the past few years, however, funeral services are happening less often. People still die, of course, but direct cremation is a cheaper option, followed by a memorial service -- if it can be afforded at all.

Toward the end of the documentary, we hear from a young man about the death of his grandmother, how amazingly caring his grandfather was as his wife entered a rest home, and what followed after her death. This small, short section is one of the more moving I can recall -- about long-term love, commitment and loss. Isaiah's mother, already in her mid 90s when the film was made, thinks back to her son's early days (when he was giving the local animals funeral services) and tells us, "I don't know where he got it from. He was a mess, but that was his calling."

Isaiah himself is clearly aware of what it means to be constantly in the presence of death, and what this does to you. As he puts it, "I'm always at my funeral." Homegoings, from Peralta Pictures, opens a week-long theatrical run tomorrow -- Monday, June 24 -- at the Maysles Cinema, as part of its Documentary in Bloom series. It will also have it television broadcast premiere the same day via PBS' POV documentary series.

Note: Homegoings will be available for digital rental via 

Vimeo on Demand beginning Feb. 18, 2014, 

and is available for pre-order now at www.homegoings.com.

SPEED-DATING opens, making one grieve for the Black experience -- on film, at least

To go from posting about The Social Network to the likes of SPEED-DATING is to topple from the sublime to the sub-ridiculous, such a stupid and offensive film this is. Telling the story of three bozos -- Leonard Robinson (below, left), Chico Benymon (below, center) and Wesley Jonathan (below, right) -- who set up a "speed-dating" service (three minutes per getting-to-know-you coupling before the pair moves separately on), the film is almost unbelievably crass and unfunny. It goes for the most obvious situations, performances, writing and direction, while its uneven tone veers from all-out, slapstick farce (none of the cast is remotely up to the task of rendering this: good farce takes talent and planning) to sappy adoptee-searching-for-his-birth-mom nonsense that insults its subject mightily.

But then Speed-Dating insults just about everything it touches, particularly the subject of homosexuality. When will the black community -- its families and its churches -- start accepting its own? Writer/director Joseph A. Elmore Jr. (sorry: couldn't find a photo of him anywhere) tries to have it both ways, handing us a character (played by Mr. Robinson, below) that everyone in the film just knows is gay, sets him up with a possible significant other, has him turn nelly as hell, and then when the mouth-on-mouth time comes around, insists that he seize up and cry, Oooooooh, no -- I told you I was straight! Further insult is provided when a character has the audacity to mutter, "It's OK: You guys can get married and all..." Oh, really?

So homos are out. What about religion?  As a card-carrying atheist (who's also gay), even TrustMovies was appalled at the handling of an utterly stupid scene set in church.  It's unfunny, over-the-top, pointless and poorly done from every aspect.  As for love and romance, these characters all seem to turn on a dime -- from hate to love, back again, sideways, whatever the script's new moment asks for. You want more? A demented auntie in a rest home, discovering that sought-after birth mother, a building inspector named Red Green who has a blue skin condition (god, that's just hilarious, isn't it?), a love interest who's a painter but for some reason is unable to display her work, and ex-girlfriend (white, of course) who's a bitch on wheels: Writing, pacing, even the handling of flashbacks -- they're all embarrassingly done.

All this could be perhaps acceptable if it were handled with some style and savvy.  But the execution is beyond lame. (By comparison, the Wayan Brothers look like Steven Spielberg.) Worse, after a bunch of failed comedy, the movie has the audacity to turn saccharine. Well, of course. Or maybe I just have no appreciation of current black culture. I hope that's not true. If so, we're in a worse state than even I imagined. The single thing the film has going for it is its "look."  From a technical standpoint, it appears to be a higher budget endeavor than you'd expect -- with camerawork, lighting, sound and the rest all very well done.  The cast, too, is attractive and easy on the eye and even, most probably, has talent -- though it is not much on display here.

Speed-Dating opens Friday, Otober 1, in select cities from New York (at the AMC MJ Harlem 9) to Atlanta, Charlotte, Chicago, Cleveland, Houston and Milwaukee -- with Dallas set to follow on October 8.  Click  here and then click on THEATER INFO mid-screen to find specific theaters in those cities.

DVDebut: GOOD HAIR -- a smart doc from Chris Rock

Looking back at Black male comics, I'd say that there's never been anyone quite like Chris Rock. From Godfrey Cambridge through Richard Pryor, Flip Wilson, Redd Foxx and Bernie Mac there have been a lot of these talents over the years but no one quite compares to Rock. He's extremely youthful looking and acting (though he just turned 45 this month), generally adorable, witty, smart, often snarky -- and almost always funny.  And unendingly political, too, which often finds him at his best -- as here.

Although his directorial efforts have not yet hit pay dirt, his writing and performing generally do. GOOD HAIR is probably his most focused and funniest full-length film yet.  It is so good, in fact, that it suggests perhaps this fellow should concentrate on the documentary form rather than the narrative -- which has, given his three previous outings (Down to Earth, Head of State and I Think I love My Wife), seemed somewhat tired and second-hand, though with funny and/or moving moments scattered about.

Good Hair tackles the thorny (and curly, frizzy, nappy) question of Black hair and what to do with it.  This is -- especially among Blacks, as Mr. Rock makes clear -- an extremely troublesome subject.  Should the hair be straightened, added to with "weaves," or simply let go to its natural state?  In  addition to having aesthetic and/or cultural consequences, this has economic ones, as well. Black hair care is expensive!  So much so that, according to certain men interviewed here, one look at the black woman's hair and you'll know whether or not you can "afford" her.

We hear the pros and cons of straightening from some Hollywood actresses (Nia Long is for it; Tracie Thoms not) and other celebs (including writer Maya Angelou, the "Rev." Al Sharpton and rapper Ice-T, who closes the movie with one of its best lines). Mr. Rock takes us on a tour of the Black hair-care establishment, which, we eventually learn, is in most cases not controlled by Blacks.  We learn from some very funny, telling interviews how the "straightening" process can hurt and burn, and how it is given to children as young as three years of age.  A chemist, above, talks to Rock about the ingredients in hair straighteners -- which should be enough to scare the pants off most thinking parents. (My granddaughter, below, is half black with hair that's looks like a mixture of Latina and Black, so the movie certainly brought me up short.)

Because so much money is spent by black women on "weave" hair extensions, Rock wants to know where this additional hair comes from.  So off we go to India -- where we learn all sorts of interesting facts which add to the ironies on view -- and then back to the U.S., where Rock tries to sell "Black" hair but finds no buyers.  (They want Indian or Malaysian locks, thank you.)  We visit beauty salons and barber shops (see photos above) -- to get the real word from guys and gals, and these scenes provide the film with some of it funniest and most thought-provoking moments.

If I am making the movie sound like a total Chris Rock endeavor, that is not precisely true or fair, as it was co-written and directed -- quite well -- by Jeff Stilson (shown at left).  Additional co-writers include Lance Crouther, Paul Marchand and Chuck Sklar. On balance, Good Hair achieves what all the best documentaries manage: It educates, informs and entertains.  Plus, it makes you laugh. A lot.

The DVD is available now for sale or rental from your video source of choice.