'Emily of New Moon': An Old Promising Television Series Disrupts An Imaginative Romanticist Book Series

Twenty-one years ago, Emily of New Moon the television series debuted.

I came across the late 90's Emily of New Moon on a random Sunday morning and was quite surprised learning much later that this was an adaptation of noted author L. M. Montgomery. I have always appreciated Montgomery's well known Anne of Green Gables since discovering her around age sixteen (my mentor had gifted me a boxed set). This Emily character was brand new to me. And being a passionately enthralled writer in love with love and all its delicious facets, I have more in common with dreamy, starry-eyed orphan Emily than the cheerful, red-haired orphan Anne.

I recently completed reading the Emily of New Moon book trilogy (Emily of New Moon, Emily Climbs, and Emily's Quest) and binged the entire television series (over a single weekend no less). The television series strangely navigates away from the source material, seemingly dismissing Montgomery's beautiful, albeit magical prose around the end of season one.

Here are several reasons why the award-winning adaptation is severely flawed and has few saving graces:

Stern Aunt Elizabeth Murray (Susan Clark).

Number One: Aunt Elizabeth is killed off in the beginning of season two.

This glaring travesty partly happens due in part to portrayer Susan Clark leaving the role for personal reasons. A devout soul cannot help wishing that showrunner Marlene Matthews had simply recast the role. Aunt Elizabeth is the story's essential antagonist. From the beginning, Aunt Elizabeth opposes Emily's writing (and reading of novels). By the end, she eventually becomes a true champion, encouraging Emily to continue writing and read those whimsical stories to her. It is heartbreaking to not to get this incredible character journey depicted onscreen, to fully capture the moment Emily and Aunt Elizabeth no longer clash over Emily's undeniable destiny as a famous woman writer. In losing Aunt Elizabeth, the series lost an integral element that could not find itself in the absence of Montgomery's most crucial conflict.

Emily's love for Teddy blossoms wildly as her writing dreams soar in all three novels. Whereas in the show, Teddy (Shawn Roberts) professes his love to Emily (Martha Macissac) despite his mother being the catalyst wedging them apart. They have a long, endearing first kiss in the final season though in the books they do not.

Number Two: Teddy Kent is insipidly romantic to the point of sickening disbelievability.

While it is certainly true that in the book trilogy Teddy and Emily's love story trickles slower than molasses (endless simmering looks, terrible misunderstandings, and near marriages to others by both), the show itself turns Teddy into an incorrigible Romeo. He makes endless demands on Emily whilst also declaring his love so freely and concretely. The books paint their young yearning in clandestine tones, childhood friends growing older and closer, smoldering the reader with anticipation for their next meeting. Yet the show ostentatiously grabs hold, taking away what makes them so utterly profound and almost forbidden.

For example, Blair Water is under a severe quarantine. Teddy shows up out of nowhere to tell Emily that he loves her. Then he disappears in the fabric of this episode, seeming to be an apparition, an oddly placed piece that doesn't fit among the panic of sick and dying people. He would do this again in the finale-- come to Emily's sickbed, express his love, and not have another scene onscreen with her ever again.

Yet, however, despite all that push and pull, Teddy and Emily have the sweetest kisses here and there (not presented in the book): innocent cheek pecks from the season one, episode four's "The Disappointed House" (my personal favorite) to their first full blown kiss in season four, episode three's "Rites of Passage." Thus, their kisses do make up for the books' incredulous loss.


Number Three: Mr. Carpenter flees with a suddenly present wife. 

In the books, former alcoholic Mr. Carpenter is one of Emily's biggest, most devout champions. He staunchly encourages Emily to pursue her writing, giving her honest criticism every step of the way. Usually older male and young girl relationships are hard pills to swallow (especially Emily's disturbingly inappropriate relationship with Dean Priest). Mr. Carpenter stayed in his lane as a teacher, as prime motivator, and attentive reader. Although the television series touches on Emily's intimate relationship with her dearest champion, he is then written to be a fickle idiot, chasing after Emily's Scottish relative Cousin Isabel (see number four) and leaving Blair Water forever to repair a marriage. Not sure if the actor was unable to continue on in the role, but this again would have been another sign to recast.

Along with Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Wallace (Jeremy Ackerman) also dies (he too is alive in the books). Aunt Ruth (Anna Cameron) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy) were at odds with Emily staying in Shrewsbury with Aunt Ruth.

Number Four: The addition of Ian Bowles,* his mother, Uncle Malcolm, and Cousin Isabel Murray were unnecessary.

Montgomery had already created many full fledged characters. There was no need for adding new ones-- ugh the whole Scottish Murray clan was so bad. Plus, the plot for others including Rhoda Stuart's family (awful characters and Rhoda herself should have been gone by mid-season two) to usurp New Moon inexcusably dragged on.

Another brutal plot was bringing in Robbie, a biracial boy Uncle Malcolm adopts. Robbie is ostracized and accidentally dies thanks to nasty Cousin Isabel. It was a terrible realization that most of these beloved characters (with the exception of Emily who does fetishize Robbie's skin color) showed their racism, their white privilege. This whole episode, an empty, half-hearted dialogue on race, was essentially forgotten like most of that intolerable third season. The writers did not have what it took to reach inside the jaw of this content and tug at the jugular.

In the future look for a piece on the horribly triggering Ian and his toxic abuse on poor, naïve Aunt Laura. This storyline made the series focus on adults than the teens (I believe that was the age target, quite unclear).

Number Five: Perry Miller not going to Shrewsbury High School and introducing disowned rich boy Jack as the replacement New Moon chore-boy were not wise decisions.

By season three's end, the show suggests that Perry will be attending high school with Teddy, Ilse, and Emily. They compete for the scholarship launched by the visiting queen (uninteresting plot choice too-- in Emily's Climb Aunt Ruth does let Emily stay with her for three years, Teddy receives an art scholarship, and Ilse's dad pays for her schooling). However, Perry bails at the start of the last season, joining the army instead (bad character development that feels cheap and inauthentic). In fact, this whole situation is maliciously savaged. Perry returns and like Rhoda Stuart has sex with a stranger. Both incidents desperately attempting to provide lessons in adolescence are insignificant and awkwardly out of place.

One highlight is creating a deep, meaningful bond between Emily (Martha Macissac) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy)-- hinted in the books, vividly realized in the television series. Aunt Laura is like an adult child slowly becoming free after laudanum addiction and an unhappy marriage (a blackmailed marriage at that)-- troubling sights for a show that doesn't seem to truly know its audience.

Number Six: The finale does not wrap up the show successfully. 

Basically Emily gives Teddy her first novel to read over. In the Emily's Quest, it is actually Dean who reads the novel and tells her that he doesn't like it (which was an ugly manipulative criticism seeing as it turned out Dean hated that writing seemed a stronger love than her feelings for him and Dean wouldn't compete with anyone or anything for Emily's devotion). Thus, in the episode, Teddy is brushing her off to the point of being ridiculously out of character. Then Emily falls down the steps— also taken from the final book— and is overwhelmed with flashbacks.

The final season, only seven episodes long, were all disjointed, rushed, and had a "red flag" feeling to the writers' stories. They didn't have the desire to retain Montgomery's magic and charming spirit. It reeks of how television series are not prepared for a sudden cancellation notice. Perhaps that is what transpired to a work that began with genuine intentions. Great details were left out in exchange for darker depressing content like Aunt Laura's miscarriage and Ian's suggested suicide.

I may have hated Emily of New Moon's television finale (most finales always fail to earn admiral respect), but credit must be given to what it is due. The best parts were Emily and Ilse's remarkably engaging friendship brought to rich, colorful life— all of its purity, sweetness, roughness, and humor delivered brilliantly by Martha Macissac's rebellious writer Emily and Jessica Pellerin's fiery, potty-mouthed Ilse. Emily is the narrator, she is constantly writing, constantly imagining utilizing her second sight gift— wonderful indeed. Christopher Deidrich's score enhances the clairvoyant mysteries and intrigues floating so vibrantly around Emily's small yet invigorating Prince Edward Island existence. Overall, the show felt womanistic. The women characters were more realized and centered, passionately declaring a valiant independent and daring outlook than most other shows would allow them to have. Women were writing and directing episodes as well— a solid kudos.

Also, whatever happened to Pandora, Emily's precious cat that she fought so hard to keep? She too disappeared in season two— the start of unhinged disasters.

Still, Marlene Matthews managed to obtain some heart and soul. We have to commend her for that.

Happy Birthday, Sandra Oh: Fem Film Rogue Icon Spotlight

On this day, fun and edgy Sandra Oh, newly cemented American, was born.

Although a star of the underrated HBO series Arli$$, Sandra Oh's screen presence took off in a memorable co-starring turn as Dr. Cristana Yang in Shonda Rhimes hit show, Grey's Anatomy. Oh's sharp, sarcastic Yang had a heart of gold beneath a seemingly icy exterior that few could crack. Later, the gorgeous, multi-talented actress would star in films like the Oscar winning Sideways, Tammy, and Catfight. She has also lent her voice to The Proud Family, Robot Chicken, American Dragon: Jake Long, and She-Ra Princess of Power.

Oh is an actor's actor with a deep appreciation for theatre. Maybe Broadway and a Tony will be calling her name too.

Oh's first starring film was the Canadian feature The Diary of Evelyn Lau, a dark drama based on real-life Canadian poet/novelist, Evelyn Lau. This film essentially broadcasts Oh as a phenomenal actress, her performance layered in tremendous depth and authenticity leading a heartbreaking-turned-triumphant story. Also, Lau, whose birthday was July 2, and Oh are both Cancers born in the same year.

Grey's Anatomy put Oh on the map. She won her first Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Supporting Role (second Asian actress after Yoko for Shogun to win this honor), a SAG (both singular and as part of the ensemble cast), a People's Choice Award for Favorite TV Character We Miss The Most, and was nominated for five consecutive Emmys and four Image Awards.

Sandra Oh sleek white business suit in Time 100.

In other women directed film and television, Oh shines bright. Beyond the exception of Rhimes, brilliant writer/director Mina Shum, also an Asian-Canadian, has had Oh star in several prominent films centering Asian identity in Canada-- Double Happiness, Long Life, Prosperity, and Happiness, and Meditation Park. She was also in the late Audrey Wells' Guinevere and Under the Tuscan Sun. In the latter, Oh plays the pregnant girlfriend to Kate Walsh's character (Walsh was on Grey's Anatomy before receiving her own spin-off series, Private Practice). Oh, however, has taken major notice, starring as the titular Eve in the juicy cat and mouse thriller, Killing Eve helmed by the amazing Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Since then Oh has been listed on the Time 100 list and picked up a second Golden Globe (the first Asian descent actor/actress to score two, let alone host the awards show), another SAG Award, a Critics Choice Award, and a second Emmy nomination. In fact, she has received two Emmy nods for both Killing Eve and guest hosting Saturday Night Live (here's hoping she wins one or both).

As for Oh's Emmy nominated Saturday Night Live guest hosting, she was absolutely terrific-- putting forth humorous performance after performance that murders ugly Asian stereotypes, on this ill-perceived notion that Asian actors are incapable of expressing emotion (completely false). Yes, Cristina Yang and Eve have moments of hilarity, but seeing Oh be plain funny in various sketches, become many characters in an hour was a bonafide treat. The woman is talented and deserves quality roles worthy of her impressive dexterity.

Sandra Oh happily receiving her second Golden Globe.

Up next, Oh's second season of Killing Eve just ended. She will be lending her voice for the animated superhero series Invincible (which co-stars the awesome Steven Yeun).

Still hoping for that Sandra Oh and Lucy Liu (the first Asian descent actress to host Saturday Night Live) buddy film someday. They both starred in 3 Needles, but shared no scenes together. 

"It's an honor just to be Asian," -- Sandra Oh with her parents and others.

Best Sandra Oh quotes:

"I grew up never seeing myself on screen. It's really important for me to give people who look like me a chance to see themselves. I want to see myself as a hero to any story. I want to see myself save the world from a bomb."

"I think the roles in television are better for women right now. At this point, I don't want to continue doing the same things I've been doing in film because it's very limited."

"Hollywood likes to put actors in boxes, and likes to put Asian actors in really small boxes."

"I did not start acting until I was 10. I started dancing when I was four, though. My parents were not the ones who brought me to acting. I brought myself, and when I found it, I could never go back. I was very fortunate because although I loved dance [ballet] with all my heart, I knew I was not good enough to be a professional dancer. I knew I loved performing. Still, nothing beats being on stage for me; I prefer the stage."

"First of all in Canada, someone like me can be a star, a leading lady. In the U.S., much more difficult. They always want to keep you in the supporting roles. It is also debatable if there is even a star system in Canada, or an indigenous film industry. Canada is still at the mercy of the U.S. film industry. In Canada, it is very difficult to make a living as an actor...In the U.S., there is more drive towards a certain kind of broad reaching success, and with that comes much more stress and sacrifice. In Canada, even if you are very successful, you can lead a very normal and healthy life. Maybe not much glamour or wealth or world reaching success, but quite normal."

I grew up never seeing myself on-screen, and it's really important to me to give people who look like me a chance to see themselves. I want to see myself as the hero of any story. I want to see myself save the world from the bomb.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/sandra_oh

I grew up never seeing myself on-screen, and it's really important to me to give people who look like me a chance to see themselves. I want to see myself as the hero of any story. I want to see myself save the world from the bomb.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/sandra_oh

Tyrion Was A Trash Hand to the Dragon Queen, Period

In Game of Thrones, it doesn't seem like Tyrion's (Peter Dinklage) intention to fail dastardly as Daenerys' hand. But fail he did.

Tyrion "Sure Monologues A Lot" Lannister has been a thorn to some sides since murdering Shae at the end of season four, a sweet, spirited character everyone nastily reduces to as "whore." Tyrion would continue referring her as the woman he loved without remembering telling her to leave (an overused "cruel to be kind" noble act typically reserved for male heroes) and then strangling her before letting her have a word in. A man this toxic shouldn't be a hand including to a woman like Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Targaryen. He sabotaged her from the day of his kidnapped arrival in Meereen.

Tyrion has to get rid of Jorah (Iain Gain) out of the way. Luckily for Tyrion, Daenarys still hasn't forgiven Jorah for betraying her.

It is easy for smooth talking Tyrion to swoop in and advise Daenerys to banish the treasonous Jorah again. However, Jorah saves her life and she flees with Drogon, leaving Meereen to the responsibility of Tyrion, Grey Worm, and Missandei. The plan is conceived by Daario Naharis and Tyrion feels more than capable with his buddy Varys. In his undeserved role as temporary ruler, he unchains the other two dragons, coaxes Grey Worm and Missandei to lie and drink wine, and issues a pact with the Good Masters. The latter falls through completely, upstarting a war on the vulnerable city. Daenerys returns just in time and finally obtains enough ships to return home. However, she has little to say on Tyrion's failure as temporary ruler. This alarming red flag swept beneath the rug of male writers/directors. They have forgotten that Daenerys can be quite outspoken and angry if things don't go accordingly for her.

An uncomfortable Tyrion doesn't like the way Daenerys uses her dragon children to intimidate people.

Tyrion really starts screwing up again once Daenerys, her dragons, advisors, and army reach Dragonstone, having advised her to allow Daario to keep the peace in Meereen (wonder how that's going). His plan to take Casterly Rock falls through because Cersei is one step ahead, bombing the Unsullied ships and clearing out the food. They also lose the added forces of Terrell's, Greyjoys, and Dorne, all wiped out and destroyed on the sea. This domino effect begins to take its toll on Daenerys who already has to deal with a visiting Jon Snow. Tyrion is supposedly happy to see Jorah again (a big side eye) and wished him a good journey with Jon and the Wildlings to the North. When they're in trouble, however, Tyrion advises Daenerys not to help them. Did he not inform her that she needed allies? How will she win any support if she left them to die? Plus, Jorah is there. Team Daenerys loves Jorah (save for the whole icky Jorah in love with Dany thing). Unfortunately, Daenerys loses a dragon on this rescue mission. So maybe Tyrion was right on another level.

Also apparently Tyrion is in love with Daenarys. Big gross.

The biggest ruin of his political approaches is Tyrion constantly believing in Cersei, a woman who has tried to have him killed since his birth. He actually, really, truly, genuinely believes that his nasty sister will help him. He asks her for mercy three times. And each time, she does not grant him a damn olive branch. Shame. Shame. Shame. First at the Dragonpit meeting, he leads the discussion and she refuses to provide forces to aide Daenerys and Jon Snow fight the blue-eyed undead alongside the North. Secondly, he talks to her privately in hopes of changing her mind. She does, but it's all a fluke, a funny little hoax to make him feel accomplished. Only Jaime comes to help. Thirdly, before Missandei is horribly executed, he pleads with Cersei otherwise with the worst opening ever, "your people hate you." Talk about the wrong way to negotiate.

Season eight may have been awful (sexist, racially insensitive, various character assassinations, etc), but Peter Dinklage and Emilia Clarke both scored Emmy nominations out of this mess. 

Later, Tyrion outs Varys as a traitor and his friend is burned alive. He then betrays Daenerys again, freeing his brother and having Ser Davos (a man whose son he killed seasons ago) arrange an escape for Jaime and heartless Cersei. That plan fails (ha ha, not sorry). Daenerys kills most of King's Landing including Cersei and Jaime. This pisses Tyrion off. Of course, he must commit one final act of sabotage-- the kiss of death. The show ends with Tyrion being another man's hand (he stays winning). After all, white men always get rewarded in life despite all their big, costly failures and treasons. Plus, murderer Jon Snow/Aeron Targaryen lives out his life sentence at the Night's Watch with his direwolf, Ghost. Certain characters, primarily male, get redemption arcs (Theon Greyjoy, Jaime, and even Tyrion) except Daenerys. She is ultimately destroyed by two men: a former sworn enemy and a nephew by blood (also count in the writers too). It sucks that Tyrion is likely (fictionally speaking) out there being hand by morning and desperately trying to carry out the Lannister line in a brothel by night. His intentions will be to name his kids after Jaime and Cersei (because she is not that evil).

All in all, Daenerys would have been much better off with a hand whose last name was not Lannister.

The Problem With Dracarys

From the start of season three, Daenerys (Emilia Clarke) and Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) had a compelling dynamic on Game of Thrones.

It seemed only yesterday that in Astapor Daenerys commanded Master Kraznys to give Missandei to her for "a bargain well struck." Moments after the "deal" was done (a dragon "exchanged" for eight thousand Unsullied and a translator), Daenerys tells Missandei that she belongs to her and that she must never lie.

Five seasons later, before a gruesome execution on the hit HBO fantasy drama Game of Thrones, Missandei's last word is "dracarys," the order Daenerys issues to her dragons to breathe fire. It is a false declaration of feminism, a false defining moment of female friendship from two characters who had abruptly stopped sharing intimate scenes altogether.

Daenerys brings Missandei to her camp.

On the path to the Iron Throne, sworn enemies Cersei Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen had no sisters and terrible fathers. Since becoming Queen Regent, Cersei surrounded herself with militant men like the barbaric The Mountain and eccentric Qyburn. For years, she has also orchestrated putting women characters like Lady the innocent direwolf, Margaery, Olenna, Ellaria, and Tyene to death. Meanwhile, on her journey, Daenerys has killed mostly powerful male figures and has the intelligent Unsullied commander Grey Worm, Jorah the Andal, her three dragons, and of course, Missandei, her longest running female confidante in her camp. Like predecessor Irri-- viciously murdered by Doreah, Daenerys' betrayer in Qarth during season two--Missandei was a monumental asset, offering a gentler voice of reason. Yet she also knows when fighting is absolutely necessary.

From season three to five, Missandei introduced Daenerys to the people throughout their travels and kept the queen's confidence. Daenerys returned the favor, braiding Missandei's hair, giving the young girl love advice on the whole complicated Grey Worm situation, and holding her hand during a grisly assassination attempt by the Sons of the Harpy. At one significant point, Daenerys even asks Missandei her honest opinion on important political matters:

 "You are as fit as anyone I know. You know why I'm here. And you know who will suffer the most if this all falls apart. So what do you think?" Daenerys asked.

 "I can only tell you what I have seen, Your Grace. I have seen you listen to your counselors. I have seen you lean on their experience when your own was lacking and weigh the choices they put before you. And I have seen you ignore your counselors, because there was a better choice. One that only you could see."- Missandei responded, Game of Thrones season five, episode five's Kill the Boy. 

Daenerys and Missandei talking about the Unsullied.

However, throughout seasons six, seven, and eight, Daenerys begins sharing major screen time with Tyrion Lannister (her future backstabbing hand) and Jon Snow (future betrayer/queenslayer) while Missandei is either relegated to background propping, standing or sitting quietly, or not present at all.

Missandei and Daenerys have a certain grace when posing despite the power imbalance between their characters. 

For a time, it appeared that Daenerys wasn’t necessarily threatened by the presence of other women until meeting Cersei and Sansa Stark, both seeing Daenerys as a usurper. In The Long Night, season eight, episode three, Sansa retorts to Tyrion about his loyalty to Daenerys and Missandei intervenes saying, "without the Dragon Queen, there would be no problem at all. We'd all be dead already." While that is true, the remark also thinly implies that Missandei will die because of her blind allegiance to Daenerys. Sansa and Tyrion's subtle looks to each other at Missandei's statement also reveal that these two are the primary reasons that Daenerys will fail. After all, Sansa told Tyrion about Jon's true lineage and Tyrion convinces Jon to kill Daenerys.

Before Drogon saves the day, Daenerys and Missandei are surrounded by Sons of the Harpy.

In season eight, episode four's Last of the Starks, Missandei wearing a completely different outfit from being kidnapped demonstrates the depth of storytelling flaws: continuity. Missandei's kept slave collar then ends the essence of her character. After six seasons of pure, staunch loyalty and a tender heart, she doesn't receive a fiery burial scene, a memorial ground for her displaced body like many beloved fallen individuals. Grey Worm tossing this meaningless plot into the flames is an allegory for the terrible writing that propels him and Daenerys to emerge into waging violence as a grief mechanism.

“When I saw that she gets captured and she dies in chains, I just felt the weight of that and what that really means,” Nathalie Emmanuel said in Vanity Fair. “I was heartbroken for her, really. . . . I think the fact that she died in chains when she was a slave her whole life, that for me was a pungent cut for that character, that felt so painful.”

Thus, David Benioff and D. B. Weiss purposely added Missandei's "dracarys" for something they believed would achieve a cheap sentimental attempt-- something for the female audience to grasp. They give no deep consideration to both women's feelings on being present in the coldness of judgmental Winterfell, the closeness to Daenerys achieving her ultimate goal of acquiring the Iron Throne, and Missandei's newfound desire to return home.

"I would’ve loved some more scenes with me and Missandei," said Emilia Clarke on if a season eight were reshot/redone in New York Times.

Missandei and Daenerys final one on one scene (if you don't count the Dothraki behind them or Jon Snow's interruption) was in season seven, episode four's The Spoils of War.

By having The Mountain execute Missandei, the only woman (and only female of color representation on the show overall) in Daenerys' circle, Cersei severs a notably strained link to Daenerys and intersectional feminism. For the Breaker of Chains to have her former slave friend die in chains remains an ugly, crushing blow. Supposedly, it is not a stretch that if Daenerys could take down the richest man in Qarth for the death of Irri (among other Dothraki and kidnapping her baby dragons), then burning down the entire King's Landing for Missandei pretty much keeps her in character? Absolutely horrible.

Dracarys indeed to this unbelievably ridiculous story line progression that stinks of male stupidity on what truly defines feminism and feminist friendships.

Burn it all. 

Classic 'Daughters of the Dust' Remains a Timeless Tribute to the Past

Daughters of the Dust restored film poster.

Julie Dash's phenomenal Daughters of the Dust embraces the countless ways migration-- this magical realism film's essential theme-- has impacted the Black experience in America. This powerful, riveting narrative poetically touches on how ancient traditions of the Gullah passed down generation to generation and became lost in its fragile handling, evaporated in the midst of displacement, stolen, fresh saltwater Africans desperately grasping onto their history whilst building a new legacy.

Three women: Trula (Trula Hoosier, top left), Eula (Alva Rogers, center), and Yellow Mary (top right). 

Off the coast of South Carolina, on Ibo Island, the Peazant family is led by matriarch Nana, an elder tied to ritualistic healing methods that involve utilizing the earth and carrying spirits of the ancestors. The other women find her practices backward and downright laughable, seeming already influenced by mainland thoughts, one metaphorical migration that of a Westernized mindset. Things are about to change, however, because most of the Peazants plan to move to the safe haven of North-- where historically slaves believed a promised land from the violent South. The water is how they and their ancestors arrived and thus, how they shall leave on a boat by their choice. So the going away celebration goes underway. Men dressed in their best jackets and pants while women don elegant white Victorian lace except Nana who is not going with them. 

Viola is outraged at the talk of no heaven from Nana.

Approaching via boat themselves are Viola and Yellow Mary. They bring sophisticated worldliness and culture, delivering two different forms of education. Whereas the schooled Viola comes introducing Christianity and photography by the way of the enthusiastic Mr. Snead, the well traveled Yellow Mary has a companion named Trula and a series of harsh stories, including a family who tried to keep her like property. Viola lives in a bubble and Yellow Mary paints a grim reality. Yet few women are happy about Yellow Mary's return. She is quickly ostracized, mainly by Haager, a proud, sanctimonious woman married into the family. 

The Peazant girls have dreamy perceptions of what the North would be like.

Several stories are interwoven together during this last family gathering. Eula and are expecting a child (the Unborn Child), but Eli has trouble adjusting after Eula's horrific rape. The newlyweds are still in the love phase. Iona and St. Lucien Lastchild's forbidden romance is tested. Viola's Western religion versus Nana's "hoodoo" causes a huge fuss. Through it all, the narrating Unborn Child travels on the island, her euberic spirit interacting with several characters, Nana most importantly, before reaching her parents.

Many poignant scenes feature women in the cusp of each other's company, offering strength, wisdom, and pure joy.

This family tied by blood and honor on this sacred land are moving forward to the larger landscape, to merge in and blend with American society, reluctantly leaving Nana and the old time rituals behind. The visual language is just as relative as the letters being read, broken memories of spoken are taught, and wispy book pages filled with symbolic text are turned by fingers and magic wind. Indigo also has a journey, from the forever stained hands of dyers to the inked icons and the Unborn Child's ribbon, there is a history in this precious color. 

Black girls are reading, daydreaming, existing. 

This film is one of the first to truly capture the validity of Black women's voices and their bodies. They are presented in a humanizing, nuanced light, multifaceted, loving, nurturing, cynical. Their agency and purpose grants them more freedom and dialogue than the supporting men. Between fixing each other's hair, shucking corn and prepping okra, and having conversation, these sweet women are responsible for the heart and integrity of the family, keep it alive. Some stellar scenes include Yellow Mary, Trula, and Eula bonding beautifully, everyone kneeling down to kiss Nana's "hand" that contains her mother's hair, and Eula defiantly calling out the hypocrisy and standing up for Yellow Mary. It is such a shame that these talented actresses (Cora Lee Day, Barbara O, Alva Rogers) didn't pick up accolades for their tremendous efforts.

Still, Daughters of the Dust is a treat. After all, food activist/writer Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor makes a lovely cameo and she is the subject of one of Dash's future projects. 

Nana (Cora Lee Day) and Yellow Mary (Barbara O) share a tender moment.

Memorable, fully fleshed out characters, Arthur Jafa's gorgeous cinematography, creative hairstyles that depict the incredible versatility of Black women's hair, and the harrowing music that haunts the eardrums tie together Daughters of the Dust's impressive longevity. This award winning film is a pivotal piece of art that gives Black women pedestals to bravely share their candid stories of pain, sorrow, love, anger, and longing with each other. As Dash allows them to reflect on the new world up North, religion/spirituality, womanism, and heritage, there is a real, undeniable attention to dignity and grace in every scene. The thorough research, the genuine authenticity are reasons enough that this film is worth watching again and again.

'Nothing but a Man' Begins the 'Black Struggle Love' Epidemic

Nothing But a Man film poster.

Nothing But a Man is considered a classic masterpiece about living during the civil rights era and has since been inducted into the Library Film Congress. It also happens to be probably one of the earliest depictions of Black Struggle Love-- the premise of lovers staying together despite great obstacles, usually the Black woman staying by the side of a down on his luck Black man.

Furthermore, "Struggle Love" is the idea that Black women must lower their standards for men and settle for relationships that do not benefit them and in fact, harm them and hold them back in life.

The problematic trope is rendered through the white lens of director Michael Roemer who co-wrote the screenplay with Robert M. Young.

Duff Anderson (Ivan Dixon) with the other bachelors working the railroad and sharing a dorm.

Duff Anderson is a hardworking Black man on the railroad squad of single men, always smiling, charming. In Birmingham, Alabama, he pursues Josie Dawson, a preacher's daughter and schoolteacher with intentions not at all honorable-- asking right after their first outing if she wants to hit the hay because he isn't interested in marriage. Eventually, he marries her despite the protest of her overbearing parents.

A smitten Duff (Ivan Dixon) on a first outing with Josie (Abbey Lincoln).

The date is ruined when white men surround Duff's car and threaten violence on Josie. She is nonchalant and he tries not to become irate.

Life is sweet and blissful for the couple (pie feeding, boxing matches whilst taking down laundry) until Duff gets fired, outed as a "Trouble Man." Due to the label that has spread across town, Duff has challenges acquiring another job. Duff and Josie continue to be positive through the storm even though Duff's patience is slowly wearing thin. After all, Josie still has a job teaching and back then, it hurt a man to not be able to provide for his household. Racial politics are a huge barrier for Duff to break through, new shackles with no possible key to freedom. Instead of civilly discussing the mental and emotional anguish fueled by the age old white male emasculation of the Black body, Duff abuses Josie, yelling at her, viciously striking her.

"I never should have married you," Duff says, looking at Josie's fallen form, lying helplessly on the ground.

This illustrates the harm that comes with "struggle love" relationships-- physical, emotional, psychological turmoil that one partner inflicts on the other, the "weaker" of the two. Duff and Josie's marriage opens up the deep resentment he feels about her sheltered upbringing. Her having a father figure too is especially paramount. She grew up surrounded and protected by love. Whereas he grew up in a harsher reality, going as far as abandoning his own son (and at one point claiming the son wasn't his) like his own absent father.

An earlier scene where a Black neighbor (Duff's former co-worker) is loudly ostracized by his wife ironically presents that the opposite will happen between Duff and Josie.

Before the marital bliss comes amiss.

Now Josie is a resilient, compassionate, free spirit. She cares about her students and stands up to her parents. Under the heavy weight of Duff, however, she loses an earlier independence, carrying the load and remaining an optimistic and loyal wife. When he walks out, leaving her to find himself, she is devastated, further oppressed by the man she loves. Duff is not willing to work together because to work together means more lashing out at Josie. He cannot tolerate Josie's unbending devotion and she cannot understand his frosty distance. Moreover, Josie withstanding Duff's treatment is such detestable hogwash. She has had a privileged life including the love of two parents, but should not be punished because Duff cannot function in the white man's society. They should brave these obstacles together-- they are a partnership, a union. Many Black men and women even now continue to face great strife. It doesn't mean that Black love takes a backseat. Along with the racial tension, Duff has to confront his past: his absentee father and his son, in other words unpack his baggage and break the cycle. And he makes this journey without Josie. She could do much better, but waits for her love to return.

Meanwhile, Duff's alcoholic father abuses his girlfriend immensely, revealing that though Duff and his father are merely strangers, a certain ugly pattern is ingrained in their DNA.

Josie (Abbey Lincoln) is happy with Duff for a time.

Despite the heartbreaking screenplay and the noticeable lack of dark skinned Black women (most speaking women characters are either light or fair skinned with ambiguous features), the charismatic Ivan Dixon leads as Duff. He is able to channel a charming, good-natured presence and sweep into the undertow of the specific depression that only racism can trigger. Abbey Lincoln manages to shine as a character that slightly resembles the bamboozled Ivy in For the Love of Ivy. Earlier moments with Duff show an eager woman ready for romance, moments in the classroom show a tender, motivational teacher, and moments with her parents show a defiant women ready to burst from their shadow.

Duff comes home.

Nothing But a Man's depiction of Black love may not be all strawberries and roses, revealing that love can mean being pushed hard with words and hands-- Black Struggle Love personified-- in between the gritty "stand by your man" logistics is a small triumph.