Read Between the Script

Unlike this generation of "goldfish" like minds, I enjoy a well-thought out plot, a narrative with a powerful message and a good old-fashion anecdote that an audience can empathize with. A book I've envisioned as a movie is Gloria Naylor's, Linden Hills. It encompasses almost everything I love to read or watch on the big screen. When a wife of the present discovers the diary of another from the past, the woeful accounts of two trophy wives trapped in the same aristocratic society are unveiled. Because of the traditional obscure ideals of a cynical tyrant, he accuses his wife of adultery and makes her a prisoner in their home along with their infant son.

While she mourns the loss of her baby, she purges the whole community of its transgressions by setting her house on fire with her husband, dead child and her still in it. Naylor's omniscient narration reveals various vantage points of a triumphant African American Utopia plagued by all the 'isms: traditionalism, capitalism, colorism, sexism and classism. Influenced by Dante Alighieri's legendary poem, Inferno, the community of Linden Hills mirrors the nine circles of hell that most African Americans must journey through in order to obtain the American Dream. A cliché take away from this story is "the grass isn't always greener on the other side."

Although I would love to munch on buttery popcorn watching this story take life, most novels don't exactly translate well into the big screen. Many modifications are often made to an original plot to fit the attention span and interests of a common viewing audience while adhering to a particular budget. Toni Morrison's award-winning novel, Beloved, is evidence of that. Even the author herself disapproved of converting the literary artwork to film. The film did not do the novel justice at all due to the low-cost cinematic effects and demonic overtone. It failed to capture Morrison's message about the physical and emotional traumas of slavery, and how it deeply impacts the present.

A significant component in the creation of a memorable masterpiece is the performing arts. Remarkable actors have a unique ability to wear the tragedy and comedy masks of the theatre for a brief moment and morph into whomever they desire. Idris Elba can conceal his original British tongue to take the American dialect of his choice shown in the series, The Wire or Tyler Perry's Daddy's Little Girls. He can even find the voice of an African warlord in Beasts of No Nation or the iconic revolutionary in Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.

Elba has probably been one of the most sought-after actors in television and film for the past two decades. He is the artistic embodiment of the theatre taking the shape and form of over 40 various beings and counting, yet is highly underrated. In his extraordinary list of accolades, there is a huge disparity between his award nominations and actual wins. Talented elite actors, dancers and singers, who are more than capable of capturing the true vision of a writer, can be the difference in revenue success between musicals like Hamilton and Cats.

When a scheduled release date is during a worldwide pandemic and economic crisis, it can adversely impact box office success. Unless, a timeless network is backing it. Unlike the expensive remake of Cats, which emanated "trying way too hard," fans of Hamilton can relive the reasonably budgeted stage play in the safety of their homes. All they have to pay is a monthly subscription to exclusively enjoy the jazzy hip-hop rendition of a historical figure on Disney+ over and over again.

Whether a musical, biopic, documentary or unusual sci-fi film, I genuinely value a level of complexity in the overall makeup of the characters that warrants their profound, manic or villainous behavior. The tragedy mask Michael B. Jordan wore in Black Panther as he took on the intense persona Killmonger provoked feelings of compassion for the antagonist. He forced audiences to question whether he really was the bad guy, an advocate of justice, a product of bad decisions, or a victim of grief and trauma. If I don't question whether the right is wrong in a show or movie, I think it's boring.

In the HBO series, Lovecraft Country, history reshapes itself by including science fiction into its timeline. It's a refreshing contrast to the typical dreary anecdotes about African Americans that have become obvious entertaining propaganda about our failed relationships, mortality, oppression or injustices. Regardless of race, time and space, Ruby Baptiste and Hippolyta, depicts the highs and lows of being a woman. Both characters battle internally and externally self-hate, acceptance, ego, selflessness, pride, courage and vulnerability.

Even though Ruby Baptiste indulged in an unsettling relationship with a Caucasian woman seeking immortality in a racist, misogynistic and magical world, she sacrifices herself to protect her sister and save the future of her family's legacy. Any woman can strangely sympathize with the metamorphosis that she and her Caucasian female counterpart must endure physically and emotionally to achieve success. As a very intriguing character, Ruby Baptiste, symbolizes rebirth and change as well as perpetuates a tone of female empowerment.

If you truly want to hang off the edge of your seat, watch my favorite movie, now and forever, Lucky Number Slevin. This is where you hear someone say, "F**k, s**t, Jesus … Now, that's a f**king story." From beginning to end, Lucky Number Slevin, is a 20-year-old wives' tale. Well, since it is a male dominated gangster movie, it's an old husbands' tale about karma and retaliation. Although the movie had mixed reviews due to its pulp-fiction vibe and "convoluted" plot, Josh Hartnett and Lucy Liu's acting were phenomenal. Therefore, I could care less what 'Rotten Tomatoes' throw at these filmmakers.

Liu's humorous, quirky and witty personality balances Hartnett's serious nature in the film. Their yin and yang chemistry along with Bruce Willis' dark sense of humor gives this melancholy film life. In fact, the complexity and duality of good and evil that each protagonist and antagonist possess in this movie is what I feel makes the film interestingly suspenseful. One of the many satirical lessons gained from Lucky Number Slevin is also the most ironic quotes subtly mentioned in film.

Oddly enough, it's an apology to a moving corpse in a wheelchair. "Sorry about that son, but sometimes there's more to life than just living," That line was so memorable that it inspired, subconsciously, the beginning of a poem I wrote last year about mental illness. The Departed is comparably a more appreciated cinematic production by audiences than Lucky Number Slevin with similar themes adding one more; don't play on both sides of the fences. Oh, wait! That lesson amongst many others is in my favorite film too.

Maybe, the sexist tone of both Lucky Number Slevin and The Departed is why I appreciate classic television series like Living Single and Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. Replays of iconic, fierce and resilient characters like Olivia Benson, Maxine Shaw and even Cookie from Empire profess "I am Every Woman" to my soul. I am a nurturer, a provider, a warrior and so much more. No other story makes me "feel like a woman" like the biopic of Frida Kahlo. Frida was received extremely well by the world in the early part of the new millennium. Salma Hayek's heartfelt depiction of the undervalued artist won her an Academy Award nomination.

Out of all the notorious or innovative free-spirits in history, I probably relate to Frida Kahlo the most. I studied visual arts and, unknowingly, had a similar painting style of surrealism and symbolism. In the professional art world, her controversial husband, Diego, is more revered. I didn't know anything about the passionate little "dove" that lived in the shadow of the stubborn "elephant" until I watched the movie several times. We are both testaments of how toxic relationships can dehumanize you and open your mind to endless possibilities.

Her Diego is my Celeb; both are muses, but the bane of our existences. The dynamics of my relationship with a man I've loved and resented for over a decade have also inspired a few of my paintings. In fact, my unstable relationship has been the subject matter in some of my writing including my last published story, Toxicity: Memoirs of an Unmarried Woman in a Ten-year Relationship, on Vocal. Frida is in the top of my list of favorite movies along with Jason's Lyric and Columbiana for similar reasons. I can empathize with the struggles of the heart and mind being in a nontraditional and far-from-a-fairytale love story.

Anyways, to sum up this seemingly extensive critical review of everything I love to watch, my two favorite subjects in school were history and writing. Needless to say, I really love a good awe-inspiring, tear-shedding, knee-slapping and jaw-dropping story about real or authentic people. If a theatrical piece is of substance, I will watch it in its entirety. If the acting in a film is breathtaking and so believable, I don't only empathize; I can find myself walking amongst the characters in the film. I will watch it over and over again. In order to see more to a plot than what meets the eye, a viewer must read between the script. When a film or show forces me to think, learn, feel and act, that is a mystifying treat for me. If talented writers, producers and actors can bring that story to life, effortlessly, add the light sigh of comedic relief then that is the perfect formula or The Perfect Storm in making an exceptional film and show.