Prima

Nelson George is a force.  There’s really no other way to describe him.  Author, columnist, filmmaker, music cultural critic, and journalist are just a handful of the credits attributable to his long and distinguished career.  He’s written and/or produced and/or directed numerous short films, feature films and documentaries for both the big and small screens and has written several books and countless articles.  He’s been nominated twice for the National Book Critics Circle Award, received a NAACP Image Award in 2012 for Outstanding Literary Work and a Sports Emmy Award in 2013 for Outstanding Sports Documentary.  I could go on, but you get where I’m going. . . .  A creative powerhouse.

My original entrée into “The World According to Nelson” was through his 2012 documentary, Brooklyn Boheme.  Co-directed by Diane Paragas, Brooklyn Boheme explores the rich and uniquely diverse African-American and Latino artistic explosion that took place in the Fort Greene and Clinton Hill neighborhoods of Brooklyn during the 80’s and 90’s. Featuring Spike Lee, Rosie Perez, Branford Marsalis, Erykah Badu, Chris Rock, and Saul Williams – just to name a few – the documentary endearingly chronicles the rise of a new type of artist of color very much akin to the great poets, painters and playwrights born of the Harlem Renaissance. George has lived in Fort Greene much of his adult life and in 1986 helped finance Spike Lee’s film, She’s Gotta Have It, shot locally. There’s no question George loves his ‘hood, and Brooklyn Boheme feels like a ballad, an ode to a place very near and dear to his heart.

Ballerina's Tale

In his latest work, a documentary feature film entitled A Ballerina’s Tale which had its premiere at the 2015 Tribeca Film Festival, George follows the inspiring story of African-American ballerina Misty Copeland, a (now) principal ballerina with the American Ballet Theatre (ABT).  You may recall hearing this past summer about the dancer’s rise from soloist with the ABT to principal, making her the first black principal ballerina of a major international ballet company. George’s film precedes this ascendancy by several years finding Copeland in the middle of her professional career and fighting her way back from a debilitating stress fracture.  And while the story of Copeland’s near career-ending injury is a main anchor of the film, the real focus (and presumably its raison d’être) serves to highlight, among other things, the lack of diversity in the world of ballet, a world described in the film as possibly “one of the last bastions of [permissive] racism.”  Where the long idealized visual aesthetic, first introduced by choreographer George Balanchine considered by most to be the father of American ballet, is tied to a certain body image and where assimilation and uniformity are the preferred norm.

Through Copeland’s story, George’s documentary also manages to lift up the names of some of the black ballerinas who blazed their own trails long before Copeland arrived on the scene. Such notable dancers include Raven Wilkinson, the first black ballerina ever to be employed by an American touring company. She was hired by the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in 1956 and retired from the company in 1960.  Also featured is Victoria Rowell, an actor (who you may recognize from the daytime soap opera, The Young and Restless, on which she played the recurring role of Drucilla Williams for many years before leaving the show) and dancer who was a member of the ABT Studio Company from 1979 – 1983.

In detailing her own story, Copeland talks at length about the challenges she faced early in her ABT career particularly as related to race and body image.  She describes an instance one evening after rehearsal, in the midst of a low self-esteem spiral, when she ordered, had delivered and then consumed a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts in one sitting. She was struggling because she was the only black dancer in a company of 80.  She was struggling because she didn’t know how to process a request that she lose weight, something she’d never been asked to do before. She speaks of herself as a muscular black woman with a large chest.  A body type the company felt needed addressing.

And the film is full of moments where Copeland wears her emotions entirely on her sleeve, where you have an intrinsic understanding of what she must be feeling. Her frustrations, disappointments, her fear.  But also her joy.  In the end, her infectious joy.   She is electric both onstage and off. A prima ballerina with a grace and technique that is unparalleled, and a smile that could launch a thousand ships.

George spent many years trying to get this film made. Thanks to a 2014 Tribeca Film Institute Documentary Fund award, a Kickstarter campaign that raised about $54,000 and support from American Express, his film is finally a reality.   You can see it now at Landmark Cinemas nationwide as well as on Amazon, iTunes and On Demand.

 

“And the Oscar Goes To . . . ?”

Academy Awards pic

What, exactly, makes a film “good?”  Or even “bad” for that matter?   And, more importantly, who gets to make the call?  Is it the lover of movies who spends lots of time and money watching art house films?  Or maybe the well-regarded film critic with hundreds of reviews under his belt and a scary working knowledge of film canon?  Or possibly the newly minted first-time mom alone all day streaming Netflix while the baby sleeps? She doesn’t know Charles Burnett (think, Killer of Sheep.  If you haven’t seen it, run. Now.) from . . . but she knows what she likes.  Do you ever wonder about this?  I do.  All the time. “Yeah, that film was awful, just awful,” I’ll hear someone saying, or I’ll read somewhere. “But how can you be so sure?” I think to myself.

As best I can tell, there really is no bright line answer.  Because art is so personal. Film is so personal.  What touches one person might absolutely repel another. And there’s often no rhyme or reason to it (film canon aside). No exact science.  But isn’t that the very thing that makes art great?  That it is so personal, so deeply felt, up or down.  And in that way you, me, we all get to “say” what good or bad cinema is, at least for us.   We, each, get to make the call.  So rise up, good people, and be not afraid. Embrace what works for you and discard the rest.  It’s okay.  It really is.

Which is the perfect segue (INT.  INTERWEBS – RUSTLING IN THE BACKGROUND AS SHE STEPS OFF HER SOAP BOX, DISMANTLES IT AND PACKS IT AWAY ☺️) because I’m beyond excited to tell you about one of the most mesmerizing films I’ve seen in a long time.  Zhang Yimou’s Coming Home.

Coming Home

Premiering at Cannes in 2014 and with its U.S. release just last month, this film is a gift for the “emotional” senses.  Based on the novel The Criminal Lu Yanshi by Geling Yan, with screenplay by Jingzhi Zou, it’s the story of a family torn apart during China’s Cultural Revolution when husband, father, and professor Lu Yanshi (Cheng Daoming) is sent to a labor camp leaving behind wife, Feng Wanyu (Gong Li) and young daughter, Dandan (Zhang Huiwen).  Years later Lu escapes the camp and is a fugitive on the run desperate to see his family again. The Chinese police alert Feng and Dandan of Lu’s escape and advise the family to inform them immediately if Lu attempts contact, which he does. He slips a note under the door of the family apartment asking Feng to meet him the following day at the train station.  Upon leaving the apartment he runs into Dandan, now a young ballerina in training, and asks her to convince Feng to meet him in the morning.  Instead, angry at her father for being the reason she lost out on the lead role in an upcoming ballet, she reports his sighting and his train station whereabouts to the police who apprehend him the next morning as he waits for Feng to appear.

Fast forward three years – the Cultural Revolution has ended, and Lu is released. He returns home to find his wife suffering from amnesia and his daughter working in a textile factory having abandoned her dream of becoming a ballerina.   Once reunited, Feng mistakes Lu for someone else and wants nothing to do with him.  So Lu takes up residence in an abandoned store across from Feng’s apartment and tries various tactics to help Feng remember their life together.  Dandan and family friends also try to help but to no avail.  And everything Lu tries only seems to upset Feng more.  Until he devises a plan that just might work….

The magic of this film lies in its restraint.  What isn’t spoken. What isn’t seen. Owing in no small part to the incredibly fine work of the featured trio of actors and director Zhang Yimou, we can feel deeply the intensity of the love once shared by Feng and Lu though when we meet them, they have been separated for years.  Their love remains a powerful, visceral thing even in its absence.  And the colors of the film are, too, equally subdued and lacking – the tapestry of brown, beige and gray reflective of Mao Zedong’s anti-imperialist China in the mid-twentieth century. But the hazy patina only serves to enhance the tender love story and highlight the fact that while Feng and Lu’s exterior spaces are muted and listless and gloomy, their interior spaces (their hearts and minds) are alive and ablaze with the passion of a bygone time.

Coming Home is a finely calibrated, beautifully shot film that reminds us of the enduring power of love.  See it if you can.

 

A Pitch for Beauty

Some time ago this bit of brilliance, this little pearl of wisdom, fell into my lap totally unexpectedly –

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering — these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love — these are what we stay alive for.

To quote from Whitman,

‘O me, O life of the questions of these recurring.
Of the endless trains of the faithless. Of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer: that you are here. That life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.’

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

What will your verse be?”

Dead Poets Society (1989)

I heard this, and I was done.  A swell of violins in my head.  All that passion, purpose and teenage angst.  I mean what else is there, right?  But then came When Harry Met Sally that same year.  And Daughters of the Dust after that in ‘91. And let’s not forget 1987’s Broadcast News.  Broadcast News, people!?!  Near perfect filmmaking.  And this jumble of cinema started to root itself in my brain.  Without even knowing it, I was becoming a film geek.  Interested in more than just the “who, what, where, why and when” of movie-making but in the resonant passion and poetry of the art form.

So this is a blog that will be dedicated, in no small part, to the beauty and mystery of great film storytelling.  And will often feature films that never make it to your local cineplex, but, rather, find their home direct to DVD, VOD (Video on Demand), vis-à-vis a streaming video platform, or some other similarly alternative outlet.

Thus, if you’re game – cue the violins – grab some popcorn, turn down the lights, and let’s do this thing (p.s. I couldn’t be more tickled that you’re along for the ride, you film geek you!) (p.p.s. yes, you!)!

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