Watermelon Man.

Review #2184: Watermelon Man.

Cast: 

Godfrey Cambridge (Jeff Gerber), Estelle Parsons (Althea Gerber), Howard Caine (Mr. Townsend), D'Urville Martin (Bus Driver), Mantan Moreland (Counterman), Kay Kimberley (Erica), Kay E. Kuter (Dr. Wainwright), Scott Garrett (Burton Gerber), Erin Moran (Janice Gerber), Irving Selbst (Mr. Johnson), and Emil Sitka (Delivery Man) Directed by Melvin Van Peebles (#1970 - Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song)

Review: 

There was one film made by Melvin Van Peebles under a major studio, and, well, here is that result. The brainchild for the film actually was from Herman Raucher. He had been an ad executive in the time that he had started writing for live television (often considered as the Golden Age of Television) before focusing more on writing, which also included the stage. Sweet November (1968) was his first screenplay that he did for film. before he co-wrote a script with Anthony Newley for Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? [1969]. The basis for what became this film was what Raucher saw from his liberal friends when it came to prejudicial habits. Columbia Pictures liked what they saw but felt they needed a black director. Enter Melvin Van Peebles, who had directed The Story of a Three-Day Pass to critical notice on the festival circuit in 1968 (after having to move to Europe in the first place to even get a shot at making features despite his experience with shorts). Believe it or not, there were other titles considered for the film: The Night the Sun Came Out and The Night the Sun Came Out on Happy Hollow Lane. It was Van Peebles who steered the casting for Cambridge, because Columbia seriously had ideas of casting someone like Jack Lemmon...for the whole film. Raucher took the screenplay with its intended ending and turned it into a novel after clashes with Van Peebles on set about the approach of the film, since he had envisioned a satire rather than a film of black empowerment. The ending differed from the film (seriously, Raucher wanted it to end as if the whole thing was a "nightmare") because Van Peebles told Columbia to let him shoot multiple endings and he simply shot only the one he was going to use and "forgot" to shoot the other one. The result was a movie that made a bit over a million dollars on release in 1970. Raucher is perhaps best known today for his next major effort as a writer with a memoir that he had written based on his experiences as a youth in the summer of 1942 that took ages to get off the ground for a film that became Summer of '42 in 1971, with both the film and book being runaway hits. As for Van Peebles, well, the film was a hit, but he wanted to go with a different approach in mind with his next effort and that result was Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song. A book about the film and its legacy was only just released in 2023.

You have to remember that this was a film about poking fun at white people in a certain way. People are weird, but this weirdness becomes apparent in a particular way when one's worldview is thrown for a loop, whether that involves a new experience in work or, well, something a bit more offbeat in having their skin turn a new color. It isn't as easy to look on the world a certain way when one's reality is different, especially when it now involves one's perceived "tolerant" significant other. In the words of the film and its music (as done by Van Peebles), “naw, this ain't America, you can't fool me." Cambridge happened to have this film and Cotton Comes to Harlem release on the same day (May 27), which surely must have been a fun double-header for those who loved the celebrated comedian, who had once received a Tony Award nomination for his work on Broadway eight years prior. It is a shame that we did not see Cambridge get a chance to do further work as an actor before his sudden death in 1976 (at age 43), because his dry timing works exquisitely well here in conveying the dueling methods of both situation comedy and sly satire of now being a black man in a world that likes to shine a bright light on certain things. Whiteface makeup and all, he sells the personality shift that comes in making humor from both a man who had ridiculous notions of amusement as someone comfortable in their life (running to the bus stop, making cracks about seeing race riots) and then the other side in being thought as an "other" in both business and as a person. Parsons (already a noted supporting presence in film and stage) reflects the sensibilities of the bleeding-heart liberal that reflects pretty well today when it comes to the illusions of tolerance...to a certain point, which works pretty well to the film's advantage in that certain kind of chuckle. Among the supporting presences, consider Moreland, who had once been at the forefront of comedy in steady work in vaudeville and film before the late 1940s saw a reassessment of how black people were portrayed on screen when it came to stereotypes had seen him appear in film less by the 1950s. This was the third-to-last film with Moreland, who died in 1973 at the age of 71. He and Martin have distinct reactions when looking on Cambridge, who went from happy-go-lucky "barbs" to some other type of observation that is curious to try and define. People are far more than their job or their color, but it takes action to get things across. There are a handful of scenes one could highlight when it comes to that growing feeling of metamorphosis, such as Cambridge trying to get calls from the doctor only to have to hear with ones threatening him to leave home (with a certain word used for emphasis) that strikes differently when presented with a dry presence acting it out. Of course, the scene where he bargains his own house away by playing to stereotypes is also pretty funny when one gets down to it. As a whole, the film rests on the amusement of its situations and how timely it all still seems now for a worthwhile showcase in director and star that shows a certain type of empowerment worth letting play out on its own terms.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Poetic Justice.

Review #2183: Poetic Justice.

Cast: 

Janet Jackson (Justice), Tupac Shakur (Lawrence "Lucky"), Regina King (Iesha), Joe Torry ("Chicago"), Tyra Ferrell (Jessie), Rose Weaver (Aunt Audrey), Khandi Alexander (Simone), John Cothran Jr. (Uncle Earl), Maya Angelou (Aunt June), and Norma Donaldson (Aunt May) Written and Directed by John Singleton (#545 - Shaft (2000), #1640 - Boyz n the Hood, #1807 - Baby Boy)

Review: 

"Why not do a movie about a young sister and how all the tribulations of the brothers affect her?”

I had been wanting to do this film for quite a while, because if there's one thing more interesting than picking a film with noted names in black cinema, it's the film that comes right after making a seminal classic. Yes, this is the film that John Singleton directed after Boyz n the Hood (1991), and it is one that Singleton wrote with Jackson in mind as the lead for her feature film debut (after appearing on television as a child and, well, being a noted singer). Incidentally, this is the second starring role for Shakur and the only romantic drama he appeared in as an actor before his untimely death in 1996. The poetry that is depicted in the film was composed by Maya Angelou, who has one scene in the film, which really does start with a title card saying, “Once upon a time in South Central L.A….” before having a neat set of cameos in Billy Zane and Lori Petty (work with me on this). Singleton wrote the film as one to look upon the girls that were left behind in relationships ripped away from them due to gang violence, right down to the hairstyle (box braids) as discussed with Jackson, Singleton, and others. It ended up as a modest success with audiences on a budget of $14 million that has had at least one argument for being a "cult classic".

The movie may not seem as "disciplined" when it comes to comparing it with his previous film, but so what? It is a road movie that happens to try it play fast and loose in would-be romances in a place where one has to find a way back to actually caring for others again (South Central LA in this case). It is a moody film that comes and goes at 109 minutes (apparently Singleton had made a cut of two and a half hours before going with Columbia Pictures in their request to trim 45 minutes out), and perhaps it isn't surprising that one of Singleton's influences for the film was Federico Fellini. Jackson and Shakur make a quality pair in that bubbling sense of vulnerability that comes with trying to keep one's guard up again and again. Opening one's heart to possibility of others reaching out is a curious one for all around us, and Singleton wanted to make one for black women to see something in themselves that I think he succeeded with in the long run. Of course, that doesn't mean Shakur is in the background, because his presence is electric even with that guarded sensibility of care for the people really close to him (whether children or in ideas for something better than the post office). King and Torry make a volatile pair among the main four that harkens most to soap opera in the natural conclusion of certain young people that think they know who and what they are. Ferrell is also pretty engaging in the scenes spent within the salon that varies in timing and relief. The fact that it was a film that happened to be done right after a seminal classic in Boyz that dared to have its share of profanity (do you need to guess how much I don't care about profanity usage?) and ideas about men and women means that, well, sometimes even love stories need some credit. In general, Singleton has a clear interest in showing a wider range of the street experience in terms of learning to start again in the face of change and surprise around them. It meanders from time to time on the road, but as a whole, it proved a worthy curiosity when looking upon Singelton and his work as a whole in black storytelling.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Nothing but a Man.

Review #2182: Nothing but a Man.

Cast: 

Ivan Dixon (Duff Anderson), Abbey Lincoln (Josie Dawson), Julius Harris (Will Anderson), Gloria Foster (Lee), Yaphet Kotto (Jocko), Leonard Parker (Frankie), Stanley Green (Reverend Dawson), Eugene Wood (Johnson), Helen Lounck (Effie Simms), Gertrude Jeannette (Mrs. Dawson), Tom Ligon (Teenager), and William Jordan (Teenager) Directed by Michael Roemer.

Review: 

"I recognized everything. It was immediate. I said, 'Oh, I know this. I know what this feels like.''

Independent films don't always get a fair rap. But history does lend some credit to those that really did make an effort to make something worthwhile. This film was released 60 years ago this year as a fairly naturalistic feature that only made a profit upon a re-release in the 1990s. The film was written by Michael Roemer and Robert M. Young, who also produced the film with Robert Rubin (Young served as cinematographer). Born into a Jewish family in Germany, he had been sent to a Bunce Court School (a boarding school) in England in 1939 by the Kindertransport. After time spent in Bunce Court School in England, he moved to the States in time to attend at college at Harvard University, where he graduated with a degree after doing a bit of filmmaking and also met Young, a good friend of his. Roemer worked with Louis de Rochemont for a number of years in production management along with making a handful of educational films. Young and Roemer got together first to do a documentary called Cortile Cascino that would've been shown on NBC in 1962. It was a film meant to show the lives of people living in a slum (Palermitano) in Palermo, Italy, but the footage was thought of as not suitable for TV. The basis for what became this film was shaped in part by Roemer's upbringing (such as his relationship with his father) along with travels spent with Young for a few months in the American South. The film was shot in New Jersey on a budget over $200,000 as a film where "the most powerful, useful political statement would be a human one" with a handful of music from the Motown label. Lincoln was a singer (with one appearance in film as herself in The Girl Can't Help It) and Harris was a male nurse making his film debut.  Roemer's next film in The Plot Against Harry (1969) couldn't find a distributor because of its perceived failure in comedy before 1989 saw attention given to it at the New York Film Festival. Roemer had shot other documentaries as well, such as Dying, which was from the point of view of those near death. As late as his eighties (Roemer still lives, now 96!), he was a professor at Yale. A television film of his in Haunted (1984) was re-released in theaters as Vengeance is Mine in 2022.

The heart of the film is the timeless quality that comes in hard-edged honesty for 95 minutes. It is a sensitive film that doesn't rely on easy piety or easy outs when it comes to the simple story of how the shadow of life under the grip of prejudice and pre-conceived ideas of what one seems to be can wreak havoc on trying to live at all. The illusion of being free is a hard one to see get stripped away from oneself, whether that involves that illusion of being free in their job or one's love having an illusion of freedom from nasty words or complications. In other words: life is hard, and it is going to stay hard regardless of if you have someone there with you or not, but you just have to face the wind and roll with whatever is there to blow against you. Dixon was evidently proud of his lead performance here (released the year before having a long-running role on Hogan's Heroes and becoming a director himself), and it is easy to see why. He has a smoldering honesty that commands the screen in a way that is easily recognizable for those who have ever experienced some kind of misfortune when it comes to perceptions or in a personal matter. He sees Lincoln and goes from thinking of her as one of just desire to of equals when it comes to not just being a background face in the crowd. His frustrations are our frustrations in a way that draws the viewer to think about within our lives when it comes to what one is and is not in the scheme of things (be it stubborn, proud, or otherwise). The sequence of him seeing his son toil as one away from his parent (and accompanying words of why one hasn't made more of the effort) makes it clear of what one has here in those vulnerabilities and hazards to think about. Lincoln is the tender one that makes a worthwhile pairing with Dixon in whirlwind curiosity and accompanying vulnerability. Harris is the key in shaping the film for such a carefully handled amount of time, a smoldering heap on the last legs of a type of person with unyielding tension that makes one wonder how one really could be that good in their first acting role that quickly.  (Dixon was the most experienced of the main cast, as Foster had her debut in 1964 with The Cool World and this). As a whole, the movie ends on its own terms for one's own imagination when it comes to what it means in the idea of feeling so free and where the road can take them. It plays well for now among curious viewers looking for indie films because it is a story we can all look to in tender natural amazement and smile in its imperfect dealing with a imperfect world.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

School Daze.

Review #2181: School Daze.

Cast: 

Laurence Fishburne (Vaughn "Dap" Dunlap), Giancarlo Esposito (Julian "Dean Big Brother Almighty" Eaves), Tisha Campbell (Jane Toussaint), Kyme (Rachel Meadows), Joe Seneca (President Harold McPherson), Ellen Holly (Odrie McPherson), Art Evans (Cedar Cloud), Ossie Davis (Coach Odom), Bill Nunn (Grady), Branford Marsalis (Jordan), Kadeem Hardison (Edge), Spike Lee (Darrell "Half-Pint" Dunlap), Darryl M. Bell (Big Brother X-Ray Vision), Joie Lee (Lizzie Life), Alva Rogers (Doris Witherspoon), Jasmine Guy (Dina), and Samuel L. Jackson (Leeds) Produced, Written, and Directed by Spike Lee (#1255 - Do the Right Thing, #1543 - Inside Man, #1643 - Malcolm X, and #1976 - She's Gotta Have It)

Review: 

I don't pretend to know the legacy of certain films, but I do have an interest in the film that comes after one makes their debut feature, particularly if it happens to be one from a director as prominent in black cinema as Spike Lee. School Daze (1988) is curious not only as one released two years after She's Gotta Have It (his formal debut after his student films and shorts, remember) that was followed almost immediately by his third effort in Do the Right Thing one year later. This film was shaped by his experiences that he had when attending Morehouse College (a historically black college in Atlanta) in the late 1970s. Island Pictures, which had distributed Lee's first film, had planned on doing this film as well, but wavering issues in the budget (which finished above $6 million) eventually led to Columbia Pictures acquiring it. Strangely, a movie that talks about sororities and fraternities had a bit of a tough task in finding a place to shoot the film, which included Morehouse (irony?) before Atlanta University was utilized. Apparently, the film had different housing for certain groups of the cast, which led to an unscripted (and filmed) confrontation at a "stepping show". The movie was a modest hit with audiences.

Every so often I have to remember that films of a certain age could actually talk lightly about issues that mattered that seem distinct from now, which starts pretty quickly with a film that starts with someone trying to do a protest about divesting from South Africa. Of course, what really matters for this film is how people treat each other in the facets that come in... colleges and dorms. Within the divides that comes from people of the same color and distinct privileges is a film that also happens to have a few music numbers. I personally don't have any experience with fraternities, but I think we can understand that divides between certain groups and classes is not always black and white as it might seem. Of course, it seems like a fable one tells to try and get people to wake up (almost as if they were in a... daze) to the issues that are mired in the muck beyond arguments over hair. One can say progress has been made in a certain place, but how much of what we say is progress as opposed to being lip service? I liked the movie fine, even though its 121 minute runtime does tend to make one desire the tiniest bit more from its ending, which almost seems to be direct but brief as possibly can be. Fishburne has all the confidence required in a film surrounded by apathy that isn't merely played as a martyr but one with his own biases and charms. The musical numbers are executed with varying effectiveness, but probably the best sequences of the film are in smaller moments. I especially like one scene involving Fishburne and his group going out into town to eat only to confront some locals (which is where Jackson appears briefly) that resent them in their own privileges, because if there is one thing to say about people, it is that there are people who will just look down on anyone who want better for themselves, even to the point of calling them a certain word and say that they'll be like them "just like us". Esposito makes an ideal wannabee with a total absence of awareness for anything but his own group for a distinct act of the public. His narrowmindedness strikes most of all, even with Campbell (and accompanying status in loyalty) right there on the divide of hair and sororities. Amusement is here and there in those selection of scenes for a movie not focused on showing the classroom (Davis having a scene in trying to motivate his football team is a real chuckler). At the end of the day, the black experience is one that cannot be thought as just simple to pin down for easy stereotypes, regardless if one is a college man or not. Living in apathy that just thinks about wallowing in where they are or just being content with a small piece of the action is just not enough when one could also wake up to what's around them. The film is mildly effective in its approach as a whole due to a game cast that makes Lee's second effort at least a useful curiosity to seek out on its own terms.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Posse (1993)

Review #2180: Posse.

Cast: 

Mario Van Peebles (Jesse Lee), Stephen Baldwin (Jimmy J. "Little J" Teeters), Billy Zane (Colonel Graham), Tone-Lōc (Angel), Melvin Van Peebles (Joe "Papa Joe"), Tom Lister Jr (Obobo), Big Daddy Kane ("Father Time"), Reginald VelJohnson (Preston), Blair Underwood (Sheriff Carver), Isaac Hayes (Cable), Charles Lane ("Weezie"), Robert Hooks (David "King David" Lee), Richard Jordan (Sheriff Bates), Pam Grier (Phoebe), Nipsey Russell (Snopes), Paul Bartel (Mayor Bigwood), Salli Richardson (Lana), and Woody Strode (The Storyteller) Directed by Mario Van Peebles (#1978 - New Jack City)

Review: 

Oh sure, "revisionist Western" isn't exactly the newest thing for the 1990s, but, hey, I dig action Westerns or ones with interesting ensembles, and I had this film in mind for last February, so screw it. This was the second film directed by Mario Van Peebles, following the resounding success of New Jack City (1991), and it perhaps makes sense to make a big spectacle Western film and have yourself as the star. Hell, if Eastwood or Poitier can do it...anyway, the film was written by rookie screenwriters Sy Richardson and Dario Scardapane. The film was a modest hit with audiences at the time, at least on a reported budget of $3 million. Strode, who had previously been featured in a variety of Westerns alongside documentaries such as Black Rodeo (1972), is featured for parts in the beginning and end, which also includes a clip from Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) to go with clips from older black cowboys such as The Bronze Buckaroo (1939). Of course, like Buck and the Preacher, it never hurts to have something to jog interest in actual historical things, such as with Buffalo Soldiers, the U.S. Army regiments consisting of African Americans that served on the frontier for the latter years of the 19th century and early 20th century. In 1997, Van Peebles wrote and starred in a made-for-TV/video film called Los Locos, which was directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (director of future films such as Dallas Buyers Club), which was billed in some places as "Posse Rides Again", even though it really isn't related to this film. Van Peebles has kept busy over the years in directing (sometimes in television), whether that involves television or his latest film, which appropriately or not, is titled Outlaw Posse (2024).

It is a frantic film that seems like a tribute to the energetic Spaghetti Westerns along with blaxploitation features, which means one has a film that sometimes looks like it is going to collapse under its overwhelming nature. Is it overproduced and underdeveloped in characters? Maybe, but if you throw a bunch of likeable folks and a few cute moments together, then why not? What, one has to say they are a serious Western in order to be thought of as such? Fun indulgence when it comes to spinning a "town defense" story generally wins most of the time. This is a film with dueling narratives of "revenge and perseverance" that flashes off for start and end of 111 minutes with a bit of flabbiness in the middle. The persistent flashbacks remind me of High Plains Drifter (1973), which I can see as both interesting and slightly overproduced by the time one sees a sepia tone sequence involving folks you know are responsible again (which is where you see Hooks at any point of the film). The strong silent type works fine for Van Peebles, because in a film of generally familiar roles, he doesn't strain himself one bit, unless one finds macho posturing to be some sort of bad thing (one isn't exactly expecting a comedy Western like Blazing Saddles). Of the folks around him in the "posse", probably Baldwin does best when it comes to conniving relief, although Kane's relaxed composure is close at hand. If one accepts the array of appearances that might as well be cameos, it is fine to see folks like Hayes appear briefly (and yes, one does get a scene or so with father and son of Van Peebles, which I would expect for indulgences). Zane chomps the screen from time to time in general skullduggery that is totally in line with a fun Western outlook (complete with eyepatch and ridiculous final scene), while Jordan (in his penultimate film role prior to his death in 1993) strikes at the heart of venom and malice that is also fair to appreciate in acting. As a whole, the film is frenzied and probably a bit slipshod when it comes to doing anything particularly new with the genre, but I appreciate the attempt to make a black cowboy film on one's own terms. It was fun enough to watch once and get a few kicks out of the execution of action, and it might work out just as well for you if one is the mindset for what it is selling. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Buck and the Preacher.

Review #2179: Buck and the Preacher.

Cast: 

Sidney Poitier (Buck), Harry Belafonte (Preacher), Ruby Dee (Ruth), Cameron Mitchell (Deshay), Denny Miller (Floyd), Nita Talbot (Madame Esther), James McEachin (Kingston), Clarence Muse (Cudjo), Enrique Lucero (Indian Chief), Julie Robinson (Sinsie), and Lynn Hamilton (Sarah) Directed by Sidney Poitier.

Review: 

Admittedly, first-time directors have a tough task upon them, and it is harder when one is also the star of the film as well. Joseph Sargent was the original director in mind for this film, which had a screenplay done by Ernest Kinoy (who had done the script for Brother John (1971), which had Poitier as star), although it had been refined by him and Poitier prior to production beginning. Poitier wasn't fresh to Westerns, as evidenced by his starring role in the 1966 Western Duel at Diablo, although he was second-billed next to James Garner. Sargent had directed a variety of television films and a handful of films such as Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970). However, Sargent was replaced early into production because Poitier (and Belafonte, a friend of Poitier ever since they met at the American Negro Theater years ago) felt that it was focused on just being a Western rather than one that honed to certain values near to them (Sargent wasn't hurt as a filmmaker - perhaps ironically, his 1972 production of The Man went from TV movie status to being released in theaters); note that within values of basically doing a buddy film in the clash of escape within hate is two prominent Native American characters being played by, well, the spouse of Belafonte and a man named Lucero. Poitier took over the production (as done in Mexico such as Durango) and did well enough that Columbia Pictures did not interfere in his filmmaking.  Poitier would be a director for over a decade, directing such films as Uptown Saturday Night (where he starred with Belafonte again) and the highly successful Stir Crazy (1980) before closing it out with Ghost Dad (1990); Poitier died in 2022 at the age of 94.

It is a curious movie to say the least. There had been a handful of Westerns with black actors in prominent roles before this film, such as say, Two Gun Man from Harlem (1938), a musical, or ensemble films like 100 Rifles (1969) or Skin Game (1971 - incidentally, that featured Garner...billed before Lou Gossett). In fact, this wouldn't even be the only Western with black leads, as The Legend of Black Charley was released a few months after this film (incidentally this was also the same year that Black Rodeo, a documentary about an all-African American rodeo that happens to feature Muhammad Ali was released). Really this is probably a bit more familiar to those with experience enjoying Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). It always helps to have film spring to mind actual history such as "Exodusters", which were African Americans that were moving along to places such as Kansas from states along the Mississippi River that started in 1879 (the film is actually set around the late 1860s while dealing with migration attempts out of Louisiana, but you get the idea). Liberation never felt so fun when it comes to the clash of men trying to deal with who they are with or without the gun. Poitier does pretty well in showing the vulnerability that comes with trying to be a man of one's word, which results in an engaging dynamic with Belafonte (a famed singer who acted in roughly over a dozen films). That clash of wills in terms of dogged truth and some form of faith (beyond just saying a huckster) work out well for gripping entertainment in 102 minutes. Scenes such as watching the first meet up with the natives and the two or one involving a distraction-shooting work best in that regard. Mitchell makes a suitable adversarial presence in malice that stokes that flame of fear desired for a film like this, which goes for Dee in quality timing as well. As a whole, the movie works best in the presentation attempt of showing the clash of wills between the races of people that each have belief in their way of life (whether that involves setting for Kansas, wanting to retain cheap labor through fear or living among the land as Natives) that works out on the basis of a confident filmmaker at work. It tells a useful story with two leads that had appreciation for the material put to them for a quality show that carved a useful place as a true Black Western.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Cooley High.

Review #2178: Cooley High.

Cast: 

Glynn Turman (Leroy "Preach" Jackson), Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs (Richard "Cochise" Morris), Garrett Morris (Mr. Mason), Cynthia Davis (Brenda), Sherman Smith (Stone), Norman Gibson (Robert), Corin Rogers (Pooter), Joseph Carter Wilson (Tyrone), Maurice Marshall (Damon), Steven Williams (Jimmy Lee), Christine Jones (Sandra), and Jackie Taylor (Johnny Mae) Directed by Michael Schultz (#1637 - Car Wash)

Review: 

"The thing is, when you’re a kid in whatever environment you grow up in, you look at it in a different way. It’s your home. It’s where you hang out and you have your friends. To outsiders, it may be ugly, but as a kid, you don’t look at the ugliness. You look beyond it. I wanted to capture that on film."

I'm sure you can recognize the idea presented in writing about what you know, because this was a film released in the 1970s, but I think we all are very interested in ones that seem ripe with honesty. Eric Monte was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, growing up in the Cabrini–Green housing project (all but the original two-story rowhouses remain from there, as everything around it was demolished from 1995-2011) on the Near North side that found himself attending Cooley Vocational High School only to drop out in his junior year to join the United States Army. After serving in the Army, Monte had a dream to work as a screenwriter, to the point where he hitchhiked across Route 66 and found his way to Hollywood. He eventually found work on television, most notably serving as co-creator on the sitcom Good Times. His first script in film was co-writing The Nine Lives of Fritz the Cat in 1974. Steve Krantz had brought Monte in to help write for the film, and a conversation between the two of their experiences growing up (him in New York and Monte in Chicago) got Krantz to bring the idea to American International Pictures. Monte wrote the script for what became this film to express the fun he had "while inhaling and exhaling" in the projects. The success of the film inspired ideas to make a television show based on the film, and after some retooling, it became What's Happening!!, which ran for a number of seasons starting in 1976. Monte did not reap much of the rewards, as he felt that others higher up than him in productions were stealing his ideas, which led him to sue. He won a settlement but his prospects of writing for television dried up to the point where this was his last film script. At director for this film was Milwaukee native Michael Schultz, who had previously directed stage productions and two somewhat obscure films in Together for Days (1972) and Honeybaby, Honeybaby (1974), and he helped cast a handful of authentically Chicago people for certain roles (such as Norman Gibson and Sherman Smith, known as petty thieves by cops) while also working on straightening the script out with Monte (interpret for yourself about the decision to tone down the language). Shot in Chicago and featuring a selection of Motown music and distributed by American International Pictures, Cooley High was a tremendous success that made over ten times its budget.

Admittedly, one might have an inkling of thinking about American Graffiti (1973), because, well, that was a film set in 1962 with a script based on a writer's experiences in that time. In fact, both movies feature a "where are they now" for certain characters at the end. But we are talking about an AIP film (read: compliment!) set in 1964 that happens to seem just as useful in its portrayal of life in the inner city in all of the honest angles imaginable without becoming just a series of cheap gags. It earns its moments that play out for 107 minutes because the chase for dreams and trying to escape the hard truths that come in potentially hard living is a universal one always worth watching play out on screen. Turman and Hilton-Jacobs make a suitable pair because their interactions with each other seem authentic as friends. Sure, they do make plenty of comedic moments happen with the interactions that come in trying to skirt situations, but it works as well as it does because the pairing seems authentic without a false note shared even with their distinct dreams for trying to dig out of the projects, whether that involves writing or in sports (consider Boyz n the Hood, released in 1991 by John Singleton, who had been influenced by this film, also dealt with a group of friends where one is a promising sportsman). In the hijinks of escapes and chaos also involve dreams and desires that you just didn't see in film as much back then. That youthful energy goes all the way down to the other members, such as with Davis or with Rogers. Morris doesn't have as much time, but even he has presence worth watching when it comes to trying to spread meaningful influence onto the youth with truthful warmth (his performance played a hand in being cast as the first group of actors on the comedy program Saturday Night Live, perhaps his most enduring appearance). There are a handful of scenes one could highlight, such as sharing poetry together or trying to drive, but I think the one that brings it all together really is that climax, where the film moves from recollection to reality. By the time the film maneuvers to its resounding conclusion, the best thing to say is that the film fulfills itself as one that lives for today with a mostly successful collection of honesty and humor that clearly has every reason to endure in influence and stature as it soon approaches a half-century of age.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

The Emperor Jones.

Review #2177: The Emperor Jones.

Cast: 

Paul Robeson (Brutus Jones), Dudley Digges (Smithers), Frank H. Wilson (Jeff), Fredi Washington (Undine), Ruby Elzy (Dolly), George Haymid Stamper (Lem), Jackie "Moms" Mabley (Marcella), Blueboy O'Connor (Treasurer), Brandon Evans (Carrington), and Rex Ingram (Court Crier) Directed by Dudley Murphy.

Review: 

Paul Robeson was a talent among himself, but this film was a curious one to look through. In 1920, Eugene O'Neill's play of tragedy in The Emperor Jones premiered on the New York stage. The play was inspired by the occupation of Haiti by the United States (which happened from 1915 to 1934), which had resulted in bloodshed and discourse about its level of imperialism. It was the first successful play for O'Neill, who would win his first Pulitzer Prize for Drama (adding three more in the next number of years); the character of Jones when it came to certain aspect of personality was inspired by Adam Scott, a close friend of O'Neill. Charles Sidney Gilpin was the original actor to play the role of Jones on the stage, which he did for the original performances before disagreements with O'Neill (specifically with the use of a racial slur) led to changes. Robeson (who had studied law after a noted college career in football at Rutgers) was brought in for the revival a few years later, and he also did the play for a radio adaptation. This is the only film adaptation of the play, but there have been several other adaptations in various media, such as a 1933 opera (as done by Louis Gruenberg) along with several TV productions (with one starring Ossie Davis). Only in a certain era would people see rushes for a film and think that an actor (Washington) needs makeup in reshoots to make them darker so that they did not look light-skinned next to Robeson. It was the only film screenplay for author DuBose Heyward, best known for his work on the 1925 novel Porgy and his adaptation alongside his wife to a play in 1927 (years later it was adapted against into an opera in Porgy and Bess); he was recruited by director Dudley Murphy to do a screenplay with background applied to an adaptation after convincing O'Neill about getting a film project off the ground. Contentiously, it is stated that Murphy had a hand in the film Ballet Mécanique, a collaboration he worked with Fernand Léger as a "Dadaist post-Cubist art film" (in 1924) to go with two 1929 short films featuring music in St. Louis Blues (featuring Bessie Smith) and Black and Tan (featuring Duke Ellington and His Orchestra). William C. deMille apparently did un-credited work on the film in supervising direction. The film had John Krimsky and Gifford A. Cochran as producers, who had previously helped Madchen in Uniform (1932) reach American audiences.

The movie probably doesn't have the power that a long soliloquy has on the stage, but it is still pretty easy to see just how good Robeson can make a film work when it is his show to cut loose. He wouldn't have that many chances to do this in America, which led to him taking on roles abroad (such as King Solomon's Mines [1937]) prior to his final feature role in 1942, but he was quite busy in activism in a variety of fields. Studio sets doubling for the jungle work out pretty well in a tale of hubris and the ever-growing drumbeat of doom. This was a film shot by Ernest Haller, who you might recognize as the future cinematographer of Gone with the Wind (1939), which worked with the sets designed by art designer Herman Rosse. The film is in the public domain, although finding a good print would be ideal, since a restored print by Criterion was only done in 2006. It is a tale of exploitation in that rise to power that is shaped by a man's failure to run away fully from their past. Granted, it is a fairly dated film when it comes to overall execution, because the two halves of the film (rise and fall) don't exactly mesh as well as one might hope they would (of course there was a bit of censorship done depending on the audience, such as not including a certain slur when playing to black audiences to go with trimming a pivotal moment of rebellion). Robeson stands out the best, with Digges and his observations as a fellow exploiter being second among a general row of bluster impressing among ordinary observers (well, aside from the first segment that involves hucksters, buy you get the idea). As a whole, Robeson maneuvers the act of a man gripped with craving an image all for himself in better things that means greed and brutality before eventually moving to a conclusion of fear and, well, being swallowed whole. It isn't particularly great, but it generally works out in entertainment on the basis of one gripping performance and a bit of ingenuity in stretching a cheap production into something with enough curiosity to make it a worthwhile show. It may not have been a tremendous success at the time, but the decades have been more kind to it for pretty easy reasons.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Monkey Hustle.

Review #2176: The Monkey Hustle.

Cast: 

Yaphet Kotto (Daddy Foxx), Kirk Calloway (Baby D), Thomas Carter (Player), Rudy Ray Moore (Goldie), Rosalind Cash (Mama), Debbie Morgan (Vi), Randy Brooks (Win), Lynn Harris (Sweet Potatoe), and Donn Carl Harper (Tiny) Directed by Arthur Marks.

Review: 

Oh sure, the "blaxploitation" genre had their share of hits and misses in that noted era of the 1970s, some of which being pretty evident to see fall in and out of the public eye. Arthur Marks was one of those directors that made a handful of films in that decade that can be thought of as belonging to that certain label. Born in Los Angeles to a family involved in show business, Marks was an assistant director in the early days of television alongside film before getting his chance to direct with television, most notably with over 75 episodes of Perry Mason. Marks started directing features with Togetherness (1970), but the films that likely stick with people best were the five (for which he also sometimes produced) in the "blaxploitation" label with each featuring a prominent name (in varying levels): Detroit 9000 (1973, starring Alex Rocco), Bucktown (1975, starring Fred Williamson and Pam Grier), Friday Foster (1975, starring Grier with Yaphet Kotto and Godfrey Cambridge), J. D.'s Revenge (1976, with Glynn Turman and Louis Gossett Jr.), and this feature, which actually was his last as a feature director. He directed a bit of TV afterwards before his death in 2019 at the age of 92. The film was cited later by Michael Jai White as an inspiration when growing up (prior to starring in films such as Black Dynamite), where he described it as "just brash, unlike anything I'd ever seen".

The script was done by Odie Hawkins and Charles Eric Johnson (which ended up as the last feature screenplay credited to each) for distribution by American International Pictures. Honestly, the fact that Kotto is featured with Rudy Ray Moore (in his first non-Dolemite film) on the poster seemed like a useful enough argument to go looking for this film, even though it sounded like one of those films that could go either way in varying entertainment level. Unfortunately, the movie is not particularly consistent enough to work for 90 minutes beyond the occasional chuckle. It may seem like an interesting ensemble idea, but it lacks proper tension and all-around energy to actually pull it off. It seems more like a collection of half-baked ideas of trying to shape the youth into productive lines of work (read: hustling) that practically begs for a bigger presence in the overall endgame. Kotto does have a generally useful presence when it comes to huckster charm, because his confidence in not needing to do an honest day of work to live another day for the tricks of trade is satisfactory to the bare minimum required. Oh to live with better material to watch. Moore does not have as much schtick to play with  (who appears lightly but has his own music cue pop up a handful of times when he appears in a scene), but he at least seems game to actually play the role of playing the strings of the community in flair rather than just sit there. Good God, I'd rather watch Kotto and Moore try to ham each other out rather than spend time with Calloway and the nonconsequential story that comes in youth (remember that that the main "plot" only comes together because of having to appeal to the folks lording over the rest in hustles and not anyone else). Who care about romance between a bunch of folks in the mean (citation needed) streets of Chicago when they have the connection of a battery with 5% remaining? It basically is a series of vignettes that loosely tie together with the all-encompassing "protect the streets from pesky construction" that falls on deaf ears. If the action or hustling (the plans shown here sure are detailed enough for such small-time gains) is going to seem like something you've seen before, the least one can do is have some fun with ham acting or noted names, but here it just is a flatly average experience all the way through. Everything is rudimentary here, but a 5 is just about right for a few curious stares on a late night, because a halfway there rating seems accurate enough in hustle and accuracy.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

The Book of Eli.

Review #2175: The Book of Eli.

Cast: 

Denzel Washington (Eli), Gary Oldman (Bill Carnegie), Mila Kunis (Solara), Ray Stevenson (Redridge), Jennifer Beals (Claudia), Evan Jones (Martz), Joe Pingue (Hoyt), Frances de la Tour (Martha), Michael Gambon (George), and Tom Waits (Engineer) Directed by Albert and Allen Hughes.

Review: 

"Allen deals with the actors, I deal with the technical side. Outside of that, we both do everything. I think it came up that way because I went to film school (at Los Angeles City College) and learned more of the technical side. Film school was just putting names on things me and my brother were already doing, different ways of doctoring up stuff. But even when we work together on the set, we both have opinions on each others' area."

Sometimes it matters to be two of a kind. The Hughes Brothers, composed of Allen and Albert, were born in Detroit but raised in California with a clear interest in film from a young age (as helped by their mother, who bought them two VHS machines and a video camera when they were 12). They honed their craft with music videos. At the age of 20, they made their first feature film with Menace II Society (1993). They followed this with Dead Presidents (1995), the documentary American Pimp (1999) and From Hell (2001); Albert moved to the Czech Republic in 2004. At any rate, this film was written by Gary Whitta, but re-writes were done by Anthony Peckham. This is currently the last film made together by the Hughes brothers, although each have continued to direct for separate features and television, such as The Defiant Ones (2017) and Alpha (2018), respectively.

Really one could just interpret the film as a slightly less hokey version of The Postman (1997). Think about it: both movies involve a wandering drifter with a particular vision in mind on their travels that run into someone wanting to maintain control of their part of a post-apocalyptic America that eventually leads to some sort of semblance of hope (hey, one gets a statue and the other gets a gravestone after doing what they set out to do), and both happen to feature a musician in a bit part. Of course, one has hand-to-hand combat and a runtime under two hours (118, but still) with this film, which is set...30 years after some sort of thing happened. Honestly, it probably would've looked the same regardless of if it was 5 or 10 years, but so be it. The result is a mildly involving attempt at parable that comes and goes on just how much one is interested in its eventual climax, which, well, is more a Western than anything (Pale Rider (1985) referred to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in its title, chew on that). The blind leading the blind, in good ol' browns and greys with some brand references (just how big were iPods anyway?), I think you get the idea of where things will go besides the part that really attracts my attention: a few moments of kick-ass with the hands. Of course, Washington is pretty good as the headline enigma to hold the film as long as it can, which exudes faith in the assured manner that fits what you would picture in your head in terms of trying to stay on the path that seems most obvious to him. That, and, well, he does make a quality presence to see handle a bunch of fools in their place that would fit a samurai film. Oldman handles the other side of the coin in just how much knowledge can lead a man on a certain path, which mostly involves craven nature, and this is mildly successful. It isn't exactly a role begging for scene-chewing, because Gambon and de la Tour can do that instead. Kunis makes a blank slate that may or may not work depending on one's patience for, well, seeing where a slate goes for a road movie. The film gives me more of a chuckle in its attempt at playing bleakness and religious nature in a familiar package that is only as good as the commitment to make it something worth sticking with. As a whole, it meanders in a certain type of meandering that could only come from something that is hazy in both construction and look that works best for those who don't look for the obvious signposts but instead just sit for the ride and relax.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.