‘Naked Acts,’ A Bonafide Revelation’s Essential Resurgence

 

Naked Acts film poster. 

Writer/director Bridgett M. Davis’s recently unearthed thirty-year-old Naked Acts has been tucked away for far too long. Like a pirate treasure buried beneath the depths of an abyssal sea to either be discovered or permanently left abandoned, Black women’s films remain the hardest pieces to find, maintain, and archive, ensuring its imperative survival. This practice has always seemed intentional. 

Naked Acts exemplifies lost treasure.

The moment now is to promote its multifaceted beauty to the world.  

Lydia Love (Patricia DeArcy) and her daughter Cicely (Annette Myrie). DP: Herman Lew.

Ronnie (Ajene Robinson) and Cicely (Annette Myrie). DP: Herman Lew.

“Emotional work can lead to a lot more vulnerability than nudity ever could.”—Marcel Brown. 

Backed against the gritty 1990’s aesthetic, sharp, intelligent Cicely aka Cece stands out. An enormous chip sits on her shoulder. 

That chip is a survivor’s maneuver to silence traumatic abuse. A heartbreaking tragedy all too familiar for Black girls navigating through the complexities of “acting too grown,” “mature for your age,” etc. 

With an aggressive, strong-willed personality hand-carved from the harsh, bitter clay of resentment and rage, Cece wields a brash attitude in order to be taken seriously. She knows the hard, painful way— through experience— that a woman cannot ever be too soft. To bear open the soul risks being taken advantage of. 

Adult Cece (Jake-Ann Jones) hides behind wigs, layered clothes, and a massive attitude. DP: Herman Lew.

Naked Acts breaks away from the three typical stereotypes Black women are boxed into— Jezebel, Sapphire, and Mammy. Cece cannot be tied down to a specific trope. She’s a multifaceted individual embodying a shape-shifting chameleon, changing styles to fit her moods: an electric red empowerment pixie cut, a dirty blond updo, a sleek jet black bob, and the natural textures in between, begging the question— who is the real Cece? The outside becomes a stage for her to repeatedly reinvent these personas. Yet, the constant factor is her discomfort for disrobing. As much as she takes acting passions off the set, this is no method technique. Unhealed trauma manifests into other areas of her life, turning the beautiful, natural human form into a dirty, ugly existence. Cece struggles to survive psychologically, mentally, emotionally, and psychically— and her extreme guardedness comes across as a negative to the people she encounters. 

Cece passionately advocates for making changes to her Lacresha character to Marcel (John McKie). DP: Herman Lew.

While Black women constantly fight against pigeonholes, the patriarchal society offers men a greater grace. The three male characters symbolize different wavelengths of inherent predatory nature— Ronnie, her mother’s boyfriend, Joel, the film director, and Marcel Brown, the producer. Ronnie causes Cicely’s pain on the account of stolen innocence. Career-focused and absentminded, Lydia left Cicely unsupervised, not fully understanding that not all men are quality men. Perhaps, she was raised in that era of village raising children, but there’s a problematic “quiet as kept” history in the community regarding family members, churchfolk, and boyfriends/step parents. Ronnie behaves the worst, preying in a practiced kind voice, using harmer's language. 

Joel, the theater director helming his first feature film, seems to care about Cece. The two have a history. After all, he believes in her enough to give her a meaty part and demonstrates gentle patience when it comes down to her mental health— at first. Yet, when all the vulnerabilities crumble at his feet through a passionate love scene addressing several forms of Cece’s necessary release and explicit trust, Joel later makes a selfish decision that only proves he misunderstood the whole meaning of the moment.  

Marcel— as stern and stubborn as Cece— vouches strongly for Cece to take the nude part, mainly as being a fan of her famous mother and her “well endowed behind” shadow. Despite reaching common ground and receiving the high compliment of Cece finally achieving a piece of her thespian grandmother’s craft, Marcel’s short-lived compromise broadcasts how little he thinks of Cece’s ambitions. 

Randi (Natalie Robinson) and Winsome (Sandye Brown) acting out their respective parts in Marcel’s film. DP: Herman Lew.

Humor adds subtle breaks from the weighted heaviness. Lydia’s corny porno videos lays on extra thick cheesiness and the pre-production film readings between Joel’s casted trio of Cece, Randi, and Winsome broadcasts Marcel’s anger simmering in the distance. Randi cannot separate her unabashed sassiness from artisan Marcel’s comical contradiction of a character that must “exude an air of sensuality and innocence.” Acting may not be Randi’s strongest forte, but neither is attempting to portray a character that can only exist in the male imagination. Simultaneously inexperienced and provocative? Ha! Winsome, the former nude model, may be a silent observer, but her has panic attacks make Cece uneasy. For example, Winsome’s an annoyingly fickle sport that would try anyone’s nerves. The names Randi, Winsome, and Cece also appear to be metaphorical for whom these women are. 

Cece and Joel’s relationship is tested by the film and her low self-esteem. DP: Herman Lew.

At its very core, Naked Acts presents a profoundly womanist concept, the poignant women relationships bearing the strongest fruit. Cece and Lydia’s fractured mother/daughter embark on the difficult road to repair and redemption. A adamant Lydia commands little Cece not to ever cry, that tears were intolerable. In turn, Lydia did not want her daughter showcasing any despair, any sadness— signs of weakness. Imagine years of withholding the suffering. Crying became Cece’s biggest acting flaw having grown up suppressing a natural inclination to express sorrow. Yet, it will be harrowing tears that unite them, that softly rips apart the tide that’s separated who they are to one another. It goes beyond the acting journeys. 

Meanwhile, the second centered womenfolk relationship contains therapeutic vibes and spiritual connection—ingredients Cece needs to replenish herself, move through her trauma. Diane, aka Di the film’s headshot photographer, coaxes Cece out from her tough outer shell. Di’s terms can be brutal yet she’s also gentle and patient, doesn’t manipulate Cece into spilling every last secret. Di just wants Cece to value her body, to see her form as a blessing and not an ugly curse. 

Diane (Renee Cox) holds the pivotal key to Cicely’s transformative journey. DP: Herman Lew.

Comedy and drama align. Di wants Cece to come to terms as a lady comedian tells jokes on the stage. DP: Herman Lew.

With Bridgett M. Davis’s solid direction and fresh storytelling, Jake-ann Jones leads an impressive cast. Her phenomenal performance should have been the gateway to opening doors. The late Herman Lew’s incredible shots of the artfully arranged set designs celebrate Black uniqueness: Lydia’s video store, Cece’s apartment, Di’s art studio, and the objects around Marcel’s desk. Cecelia Smith’s compositions provide a pleasing soundtrack as insightful song lyrics allow a glimpse into the characters. 

A Black women’s cinema curriculum could build foundation on Davis’s commendable Naked Acts, joining hand in hand with groundbreaking women centered classics such as Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust, Zeinabu irene Davis’s Compensation, Kathleen Collins’s Losing Ground, and Alile Sharon Larkin’s A Different Image. Naked Acts embraces resilience, overcoming terrible experiences, and finding encouragement through other women. The resurgence is both a crime and a blessing— a crime for not being readily available at the time of its release and a blessing for the nurturing narrative that would inspire many souls to find comfort in a healing Cece. Black women directed films have a distinctive honesty that shows up more and more as their long buried works come out into the limelight. In this day and age, cinema still heavily promotes Black men and white filmmakers telling Black women’s stories, mainly pushing out the same tired agendas. Meanwhile, Black women storytellers stick needles of wisdom, charm, mystery, humor, and love into their leading ladies, bringing in a touching depth. By refusing to retell certain tropes, they risk limited funding resources, work largely unseen, and no other true support. 

Cece confronts her mother at the video store. DP: Herman Lew.

Naked Acts highlights the struggles Black women undergo to be taken into consideration. Cece is the poster girl, the metaphor competing for bare minimum roles in productions that will undermine her presence— sassy best friend, magical negro, oversexed promiscuity, slave, poorly rendered biopic. And colorism is another beast to face as Hollywood remains pushing for lighter skinned actresses portraying their preference of Black girls and women. The boys and men, however, can be dark as midnight. Every year awards shows snub Black women’s excellence with white people uniting against them (i.e. that unforgettable Andrea Riseborough situation). Black women directed films are offered little to no distribution. Thus, audiences lose out on correct Black women promotion— nuanced, dignified, and intriguing characters leading well-crafted pictures. 

Thankfully, Kino Lorber—a distribution godsend next to Criterion, Oscilloscope Laboratories, Strand Release, and Janus Films—alongside Maya Cade of BlackFilmArchive have banded together with Lightbox Film Center to restore this breathtaking masterpiece. Naked Acts is on streaming platforms and has been physically available (with Davis’s brilliant short film Creative Detours). Art house cinemas and avant garde spaces across the globe have been hosting specialty screenings, reinvigorating the “word of mouth” effort. 

Naked Acts deserves this newfound light shining bright on its resonating beauty. It was a film we urgently needed to see back then and it’s a film that we must see right now— on repeat. 

‘You, Me, and Tuscany’ Chronicles The Life of A Traveling Black Girl Still In Mourning

 

Me, You, and Tuscany film poster. 

Kat Coiro’s Me, You, and Tuscany provides a refreshing escape to gorgeous scenic Italy, a dream for Anna (The Little Mermaid’s Halle Bailey) and a livelihood for Michael (Bridgerton season one’s Regé-Jean Page). Ryan and Kristin Engle’s co-written screenplay fights against a formulaic nature— as far as romantic dramedies go. One saving grace examines how holding onto grief can have not only a suitcase, it has a passport too. A mourner prefers to travel everywhere with infinite sadness and sometimes infinite sadness mixed with questionable choices. Anna has been doing the most as an Atlanta born, New Yorker, trying out people’s lives for size as a house sitter— employment that screams temporary and unsettled. After the passing of her mother (played in flashback photographs by Joy Bryant aka Cherish the Day’s Chef Sunday St. James), Anna breezily floats through daily routines, masking her pain in charades. 

And there’s consequences to internalizing pain. 

Brash decision maker Anna (Halle Bailey) takes in the sights. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

When the opportunity comes for Anna to take her act on a bigger scale— in Tuscany—she sees it as kismet. Anna’s late mother already purchased her a plane ticket and the poor girl has five hundred dollars burning a hole in an otherwise nonexistent wallet. The poetic sentiment is that, yes, broke and broken Anna has no real luxuries or grand wealth. There’s this eccentric belief that impoverished people don’t deserve nice things, that they should be grateful for what they can afford— don’t go above and beyond, a notion historically reserved for Black people. Anna—a few credits shy off graduating culinary school— needed a carpe diem moment and seized a courage missing from herself, choosing to fly solo on the other side of the world and taste the fantasy she and her mother had originally planned. The best parts are Anna strolling around in lovely outfits, cherishing the countryside, breathing it all in, expressing pure joy and contentment. Her contagious excitement saturates every scene, making it all the more believable that an entire family could fall in love with her. She’s an utterly radiant gem even when lying through her teeth. 

Anna (Halle Bailey) and Michael (Regé-Jean Page) with the fresh fare for the family restaurant. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

Enter Michael— the British born man who adores his adopted Italian family— is a “Mr. Steal Your Sandwich” with a touch of a “Mr. Steal Your Girl” type. He’s attractive on the eyes with a deep English accent that’s sure to boil over fine olive oil and quite serious about family, wine, and Mario’s Let Me Love You— a twenty-two-year-old R&B ballad. Sadness lingers about Michael too, wielding around him like a protective shield—a key similarity that he and Anna have in common. Although he lost his biological parents way before her, grief never ever truly fades. Michael’s initial distrust of Anna gradually dissolves over the three day course. 

However, Michael is farther along in life than Anna, staying on an impressive vineyard, operating the vast lands with a pet pig on deck— so he’s financially sound and probably well traveled. Anna has only just begun to follow her passion, a flower on the verge of blossoming. Power imbalance situations are not best in reality. They’re quickly falling for each other through significant glances, lingering touches, and speak briefly on grief. They don’t have heavier conversations, primarily on their current life positions. Michael had scoffed at Anna being at house sitter and Anna made fun of his intense demeanor. 

Despite the youthful appearance of Anna and Michael’s portrayers Halle Bailey and Regé-Jean Page, there is a twelve year age gap between them. Consider great films such as Kathleen Collins’s Losing Ground, leading lady Seret Scott (Sara) was fifteen years younger than Bill Gunn (Victor) and twelve years younger than Duane Jones (Duke). Ever After, one of cinema’s best Cinderella adaptations features Drew Barrymore’s Daniela and Dougray Scott as Prince Henry, a ten year age gap between the actors. Every Jane Eyre adaptation must have a gap (personal favorite is the Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens version, thirteen year age gap). Small potatoes compared to the twenty-five-year gap for Charade or the eighteen years in Pretty Woman. Bailey and Page do have chemistry, but the screenplay does not warrant enough to be memorable beyond its time. 

Anna (Halle Bailey) and her dear friend Claire (Aziza Scott) eating good in Matteo’s dime. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

“Don’t call me from no Italian jail!” exclaims Claire, a real friend. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

Side character girlfriends are usually single women living vicariously through the main girl (i.e. every character Lisa Nicole Carson Nicole Carson plays in the 90s). Claire (Aziza Scott), a happily married soon-to-be mom, works at a prestigious hotel where she’s obviously given Anna help whenever possible. Claire is reminiscent of Courtney Taylor’s Grace in The Invitation— funny and blunt one-liner deliverer yet stays behind while bestie puts herself in potential overseas danger. Grace calls Evie to ensure she’s okay (in vampire territory) and Claire provides the same for Anna (nothing supernatural but real-life monsters are present). Anna also gets a sassy male soundboard for the remainder of the film (and he has more scenes than Claire). Maybe we could get a Claire prequel, Me, You, and the Caribbean Cruise— let’s see how Anna’s dearest friend scored her own bae. Claire’s “convenient” pregnancy bars her from an ending similar to Evie and Grace (the best part of a terrible film), robbing us of her in-person meeting with Anna’s new “family.”

Anna and Michael sweetly run across the endless fields. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

Matteo is the main gripe— the epitome sufferer from clunky writing. He’s the catalyst for Anna’s decision making and also prodigal son and short term villain? First, Matteo’s failed seduction attempt at the hotel bar turns into Anna’s encouragement to follow her dreams. It also turns out he’s been gone for a little over a year yet the family acts as if he’s been gone for decades. Then again, maybe that’s how close-knit families tend to behave. Anna lost her mother in the same time frame and hid her grief behind drifting nowhere. Still, Matteo returns home, issues Anna two ultimatums within a day. Meanwhile, Matteo’s ex-fiancée is conveniently all over him— and this storyline goes into predictable territory. Also, Matteo’s behavior at the races makes a person wonder why did the family miss this obnoxious jerk so much? His only saving grace was allowing a reluctant Anna to bestow her dormant kitchen talents even though he had never tasted her food before. 

The other pitfall is that the film cannot escape its obvious all-white production (having sole Black producer Will Packer on the press run circuit didn’t help matters). Anna and Michael’s characters feel as though they can be played by anyone. The dialogue is too cliched and unnatural. Claire calling Anna’s situation a little too Get Out seemed not only a big red flag, but an authentic reality to the situation at hand. Anna and Michael are in fact the only two brown people in Tuscany and Matteo’s family are too ready to invite Anna into the fold within three days. The timeline is simply not believable. 

Still, the highlights involve Anna coming into her own, becoming a culinary cook that her mother would have been proud to see. Oftentimes, an unfamiliar environment can either bring out the need to be another person (as Anna sought out to do) or enrich the potential longing to break out of them. Anna’s self reflection, her realizing her strengths was almost stronger than the instant romance between her and Michael. 

In her first ever woman-directed feature-length film (and hopefully not her last—please Black women directors), Halle Bailey continues to prove her star power. She’s able to be sweet, rebellious, innocent, and saucy while an uplifting poster girl for natural hair wearers— locs are always impeccably styled on every film set. Other solid cast decisions include the hilarious Stella Pecollo as Matteo’s sister Francesca (although could easily read as a Bridesmaids Melissa McCarthy knockoff), Stefani Cassini as Matteo’s observant, advice-wielding grandmother Nonna, and the aforementioned stellar Aziza Scott as Claire. 

Anna is no longer afraid of getting her edges wet. DP: Danny Ruhlmann.

Overall, Me, You, and Tuscany plays it a little safe and expectant. The film contains funny, relatable, and charming moments, some titillating pleasures for those desiring unrealistic fantasies that chick flicks promise. The cinematography gives a gratifying look at rich, splendorous Italian scenery through Anna’s wide expressive eyes and the soundtrack includes a catchy Leela James song in addition to a lovely callback of Page and Bailey both singing Mario. It’s definitely directed towards the spirited Black girls and Black women who dare to freely roam the earth as time and money are both limited, obtaining knowledge in all the ways that guarantees valid and valuable experiences. Stay to witness Anna’s therapeutic journey through seeing a new culture up close and personal and building community with the people around her. Of course, remain seated for the hilarious end credit scenes adding another barrel of laughs. 

Thoughts On The Shameful 79th Annual BAFTA Awards

 

Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo at the BAFTA Awards. 

Sunday started off on a disrespectful final week of Black History Month in London. Ever since the painful humiliation Michael B. Jordan, Delroy Lindo, Hannah Beachler, and another aforementioned Black woman in the audience bravely endured from hard “n” word screaming Paul Davidson—a sufferer of Tourette syndrome— at the 79th Annual BAFTA Awards, the opened wound has continued bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. The call coming from inside the house—or institution rather—requests that the offended parties understand Davidson’s condition and not grant any genuine salve to those affected by the racist tics. Every time such prejudice glares its ugly face, Black people are left compartmentalizing an unfair balance of holding the grace bag in one hand while trying to stitch together the gaping holes with the other. They’re instructed to be compliant, to have nuance, gentle and kind. 

It’s a mighty fine gaslighting tactic. 

Where is the empathy for them? The respect? 

Now certain awards shows never seemed true safe spaces for people of color, considering what they tend to honor and the systems that they continue upholding— a system that’s still donning firsts at their big ages. Invited nominees and presenters must be walking along eggshells, especially Black women actresses and filmmakers who are often more likely to hand out trophies than win them. 

Production designer Hannah Beachler’s tweets on her firsthand accounts of the word being said not once but three times.

Many have applauded the compassionate response of the stilled BAFTA audience including host Sir Alan Cummings, but the changed faces on Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo’s will haunt us for a lifetime, looks of shock and dismay, even horror and pain happening on a live stage in front of their friends and peers. Hearing that Jordan’s parents cried added another layered sting. BAFTA also chose to keep the slur in the airing even as Warner Brothers asked them to remove it. That spoke volumes regarding censorship since this part of Akinola Davies Jr.’s acceptance speech was purposefully omitted, 

“Archive your loved ones. Archive your stories yesterday, today, and forever. For Nigeria,  for London, the Congo, Sudan. Free Palestine.” 

Davidson and BAFTA provided insensitive statements that were anything but apologetic. Their empty words fail to comfort the very people it harmed shows the world that blackness matters so little, that Black people must show humility in the face of blatant cruelty. BAFTA remains standing ten toes down on whiter ground— more so than the Oscars at times— and the events on Sunday and the glaring aftermath prove it. They care more about Davidson than the historically negative connotations of the hard n word.

Akasha Rules Her Limited Presence In Lackluster ‘Queen Of The Damned’

 

Queen of the Damned film poster.

Vampires are the most alluring creatures depicted in both the literary and filmmaking capacity— thirsty for human blood and lustful for warm or cold bodies. We’re often drawn to reading Bram Stoker’s classic Dracula or Sheridan Le Fanu’s earlier novel Carmella. Wes Craven’s Vampire in Brooklyn delivers specific 1990’s laughter and Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns offer campy nostalgia. Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hess and Nikyatu Jusu’s Suicide By Sunlight features villainous Final Black Women, a beauty bound to live forever, her blood coated fangs. 

With a criminal sixteen minute screen time, Aaliyah’s final role as Anne Rice’s titular ruler Akasha in Australian director Michael Rohmer’s Queen of the Damned, had such great potential. 

Akasha the stone. DP: Ian Baker.

The film begins very boringly. 

Lestat, an egotistical vampire walking down the streets in typical vamp attire, narrates and isn’t particularly interesting. Marius, Lestat’s sire, had seen something in him. Yet, what? There is no charm, no charisma, a vacancy in his eyes. Of course, he’s meant to be voided, he’s the walking dead. 

The craftsmanship on Akasha’s stone is quite exquisite. DP: Ian Baker. 

When Lestat reflects on his experience being made and his sudden desire for music, he’s led into murdering a young woman (not drinking out of hunger) and it torments him. Still, Marius takes Lestat to some faraway lair in the center of water. Lestat starts playing a fiddle— a fiddle that awakens Akasha, a stone statue.

Why has Marius departed? Jealous that Akasha is more drawn to Lestat even though Marius kept her hidden and otherwise took care of her and her king’s statues? 

Akasha’s awakening involves abstract flashes, past mingling with the present. She will break free almost two hundred years later. DP: Ian Baker.

Meanwhile, a young woman named Jesse obsesses over Lestat, reading his journals and listening to his music. She’s a human attracted to getting into any kind of danger as long as she obtains closeness to Lestat— typical groupie behavior. 

Unfortunately, Akasha exhibits Jesse’s same mindset, Akasha using her superior powers on a grander scale in hopes of snatching up Lestat’s devotion. She’s manipulated minds and situations to ensure Lestat’s success. Now newly awakened and out on the prowl, slim, agile Akasha enters a modern vampire bar dressed in an elaborate silver and gold headpiece, metallic bralette, free flowing skirt and arm bands that sway along her movements. She walks in a purposefully sensuous manner, slow and seductive, her kohl-lined blue eyes holding a mesmerizing magnetism that her fellow creatures cannot break away from. She is their mother, the siren above all sirens. 

And she kills them. 

Everyone. 

The scene is a riot— a sheer exhibition of a vampire who doesn’t always have to physical touch her victims— biting into their flesh or ripping out their hearts and feeding on it. Akasha can burn them alive with the wave of her hand. She’s a grade A narcissist too, caring solely for her own pleasures, her passion for violence and death outweighing the normal vampire levels. They usually want someone to devour tomorrow. Whereas Akasha needs as much as possible, patience be damned. Her appetite is insatiable. Can Lestat truly handle a queen operating without a moral compass? 

Akasha murders a bar of vampires in a slow, methodical power demonstration. DP: Ian Baker.

Akasha walking away in slow motion from the burning bar holds reminders of Carrie leaving behind her burning high school. Akasha did not give a fudge. DP: Ian Baker.

Jesse was not the only one looking forward to Lestat’s concert. DP: Ian Baker.

On the concert day, Jesse decides to continue stalking Lestat (despite watching him kill a poor woman in front of her) and Maurice returns to warn Lestat that Akasha has woken up and killed her longtime king. Lestat only cares about the show, his delight in seeing how many vampires will try to murder him on stage. Later, as he serenades the audience, cloaked assassins in wait, Maurice joins in the sudden fray. They’re seemingly outnumbered until Akasha lets the bodies fray peacefully into the air before she makes her appearance visible. Her hypnotic gaze exists only for the vampire Lestat yet it doesn’t necessarily seem to be shared. He looks grateful, relieved, and surprised. Not the same as the intense need he reveals with Jesse, the innocent naïveté. 

Still, Akasha takes Lestat up on a magical ride through the air that requires no carpet or singing genie. 

At the end of the day, even Akasha becomes fooled by devotion. DP: Ian Baker.

Akasha exemplifies an evil malice that puts other villains to shame. She intended to destroy humanity and rule the vampire underworld. Could Buffy be a match for someone as powerful? It is easy to imagine Black Panther’s foe Kilmonger parading around Akasha’s sadistic ideas and asking her “is this your king?” regarding Lestat. The rockstar vampire showed no authoritative values, especially to be aligned alongside such an inherently wicked goddess. 

It really sucked that the end came down to broadcasting uncomfortable optics: the pure white woman versus a woman of color— the only woman of color person in the film, in the whole vampire coven. It was giving Black women are good for a fun time, not a long time (aka eternity for them). Lestat conveys “your strength was a delicious temporary addiction, I will be taking that, and sticking with my human lover.” Akasha, a cruel chilling force, still manages to convey a human reaction—betrayal— as her family implores her to a barbaric fate akin to a salacious orgy.  

Akasha shows Lestat a kingdom— dead bodies surrounding waters and dirt covered land. She doesn’t understand his obvious discontent. DP: Ian Baker.

Although much promise had been shown in her first part as Romeo Must Die’s sweet-soft heroine Trish O’ Day, Aaliyah's incredible transformation is the primary highlight in Queen of the Damned. She utterly evolved from mysterious, beautiful singer/dancer into a full-fledged femme fatale vampire— her every gesture, her every look spoke terrifying volumes. Her irresistible performance transcends bland material that angered Anne Rice— who deserved a better adaptation of her work. Angus Strathie and Bao Tranchi’s costume designs must be commended for their conjoined talents— the metallic breast plates, the elaborate headpiece and jewelry, and the flowing skirts. This trio were responsible for making Akasha an outstanding villain. 

Famous women who paid homage to Akasha— Anok Yai, Teyana Taylor, Meagan Good, and Normani.

Co-produced by Channing Dungey (former ABC television head), just imagine women filmmakers tackling this gritty material, intending for Akasha to lead her own story, to be the cold, callous villain not relying on a man to wake her up. If Julie Dash or Kasi Lemmons helmed the reins, Akasha’s narrative would probably dive deep into rich Egyptian history, voices told by real figures that actually look of that time period, not white people giving accounts that sound like secondhand make believe. There are too many “Akasha is this” and “Akasha is that” from the vampires, leaving Akasha to barely address her motives. Certain Black women filmmakers love the bonus incentive of exploring diverse cultures (the bonafide research sleuths) and lending that into the scripts to add layered nuances, to even educate the actors and the behind-the-scenes peoples. Akasha, supposedly the most powerful vampire, couldn’t see that her chosen one— after “sleeping for two hundred plus years”— was hung up on Jesse? Lust can blind most folks. A creature of Akasha’s supernatural caliber would have been given Lestat the smoke with the flick of her wrist. Whether due to the poor script or the acting performance, it wasn’t believable that Lestat tricked Akasha and led to her demise. What else was planned before Aaliyah passed away? Although her scenes were completed, the film has an unfinished quality and doesn’t account for why she’s barely in it. Plus, Aaliyah and Korn were to collaborate on music. Perhaps she would have contributed to an edgy soundtrack that included Tricky (a favorite). What If and I Can Be from her last album definitely showcased that her vocals could rival the thrum of an electric guitar riff. 

Akasha exudes a commendable presence. DP: Ian Baker.

Every few years, the itch to rewatch Queen of the Damned comes into effect. Aaliyah only had two differing film roles. Akasha is the hardest as her fiery fictional end is a painful metaphor to the cause of death its portrayer, a phenomenal artist that the world lost way too soon.  

Revisiting The Significance Of Trish O’ Day In ‘Romeo Must Die,’ Nearly Twenty-Six Years Later

Romeo Must Die film poster. 

Romeo Must Die finds an authentic, modern-day Juliet Capulet in Trish O’Day. She’s a cherished figure in the community, often smiling and laughing, especially around the neighborhood children— joy is at the top of her hierarchy. Her vibrant, colorful Serpentine Fire boutique features women coworkers and seems a positive base for the frequent youth. They call her name with singsong cheerfulness, implying a valuable reciprocated kindness. This protective healing ground is a carefully built strategy for her, a positive luxury stemming from rising above her past environment, a turmoil that she seeks to escape. While some would reap the benefits of nepotism and allow the privileged lifestyle to inflate their egos, Trish embodies “being the change you want to see in the world” philosophy. An individual can be raised rich and affluent, but knowing the whys and how’s of being rich and affluent can push a humble spirit into setting themselves apart, building a foundation on healthier terms. 

Trish (Aaliyah) choreographing a dance with her coworker Lori (Fatima Robinson—Aaliyah’s primary real-life choreographer and friend) and the kids.

Serpentine Fire Crew: Trish and Lori. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish’s father Isaak O’Day seems too polite to be in gang affiliation while his associate Mac has an oily ruthlessness that shines bright. Mac does not employ loyalist qualities and Isaak’s heavy reliance on him is not a good look for someone who has been in gang-related business a long time. Also, what happened to Trish and Colin’s mother— death at the hands of a vengeful foe or a clandestine departure? Trish’s situation bears similarities to the problematic Disney Princess trope as most of those girls grow up motherless and dealing with either overprotective or centered masculine characters. Again, Isaak acts like a gentle papa bear and wouldn’t be a Titan figure setting off to blow up Trish’s most treasured boutique. Though a barbershop does explode among other events for the small owners who refuse to sign over their deeds. 

When breaking down the name Serpentine Fire, serpentine meaning snake-like and fire as burning flames, a phoenix comes to mind, a powerful bird that rises from the ashes. Trish has that mentality of being reborn, reshaping herself by creating a close-knit workplace. Although there are not many scenes in the shop, it comes up in as also being used by Trish’s brother Colin, his preference to hide behind his sister’s good deeds. She isn’t dumb, however— keenly aware what game he’s playing and telling him not to bring that mess. 

In order to escape her newly assigned bodyguard, Trish hops into the cab of Han Sing (Jet Li). DP: Glen MacPherson.

Despite stranger danger, Trish doesn’t mind being in Han Sing’s stolen cab or Han later entering her apartment without the chivalry of knocking. It is Darius grabbing Nina’s address off the check in the record store in Love Jones or Jason following Lyric’s bus to her door in Jason’s Lyric— red flags bow tied as romance. Except in Trish and Han’s case, they behave as strictly platonic friends that save each other throughout the film. 

Colin (DB Woodside) obviously would come to a bad end. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish blames her father Isaak (Delroy Lindo) for Colin’s bad choices. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Now Colin O’Day shares a single apiece with Trish and Isaak. The reactions to his fate seem grossly unearned, especially in juxtaposition with Han’s storyline. We’re not given much to prove Colin, Trish, and Isaak as a connective family, as loving and supportive of each other in light of lacking a maternal figure (Han has this as well). Trish is defensive with Colin and rightfully so as he constantly weaponizes Serpentine Fire. If the brother truly loved his sister, he would have found a better place to conduct whatever his mysterious plans were. Meanwhile, Colin informs Isaak about wanting to be his own man, his own boss, to step out of the O’Day shadows. Later, we learn that both Trish and Colin were college educated. Why didn’t Colin want to be on a straight and narrow path like Trish? Had Isaak unintentionally enticed Colin into gang related warfare? Furthermore, Isaak planned to finally leave that life and own a sports team, leave behind a legacy for Colin to run. Isaak waiting until his children are full grown adults to be legit though? That’s wild. It is ninth-world  wonder Colin and Trish survived as long as they did. 

Trish’s pretty apartment is painted in lighter shades of purplish pink with gold accents. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish’s sweet, sentimental embellishments in her childhood bedroom tell a story of innocent girlhood. DP: Glen MacPherson.

A wide awake Trish lays next to her stuffed animals. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish’s vulnerable moments are reserved with Han who shares commonalities. Han’s backstory is almost perfectly constructed (except again, no mother). The disgraced former cop escaped a Chinese prison and manages to find his family in America. His only mission is to figure out who killed his little brother, no indication if he is interested in law enforcement. When Han finds out that his last phone call was Serpentine Fire, Han requests Trish’s help. 

What joy looks like— big grins and ice cream cones. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish sharing a story about a prank gone wrong. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish mimics Han— entering his apartment (technically his deceased brother’s home)— without knocking. During this poignant scene, Trish gives a moving monologue, a small glimpse into her childhood, confessing that she fully understands her mother’s reaction to a heinous prank. With cartoons and video games promoting violence as everyday hijinks, naturally giving kids grand ideas, Trish and Colin’s mother probably easily believed this horrible joke because she witnessed the realities that her family faced firsthand. 

Han uses Trish to help fight an assassin. DP: Glen MacPherson.

The moves are playfully referenced in Aaliyah’s award-winning Try Again music video. 

Romeo Must Die’s all male production team— from the direction by Polish director Andrzej Bartkowiak to three writers Mitchell Kapner, Eric Bernt, and John Jarrell, and to cinematographer Glen MacPherson— could have made a film along the lines of Foxy Brown type blaxplotation to Proud Mary and other films that mirror it. Ironically enough, men shepherded Aaliyah’s whole musical career including her own uncle. Trish existed in the man’s world that James Brown sang about— a character made for Aaliyah to play. However, having no mother figure, Trish is shielded from being stripped of her agency, balancing between an outgoing, free-spirited nurturer to strong and firm in her values, her enigmatic quality lending itself to Aaliyah’s charismatic portrayal. The strongest range of depth was Trish’s sensitive emotional state, her grieving both a brother and mother through a distinctive core memory, a promising indication that acting could have been Aaliyah’s next step achievement. 

“What I like about Trish is that she's tough. She's independent,” Aaliyah says. “She doesn't take anything off anybody. But at the same time, she loves her family. She's got a sweet side. So I felt I could play her, and people could get into her. It would be realistic to people, being that people know me as Aaliyah, the artist -- there is this image that I have. I wanted to make the right transition and have people understand where I was going, and I felt Trish embodied all of that.”

Aaliyah’s magical chemistry with Jet Li also makes for a wonderful watch. The deep connective friendship between them created a believable strength onscreen. That familiar Romeo and Juliet formula—two different worlds meeting and colliding— works here. Unfortunately, mute-worthy, badly cast Anthony Anderson ruins things a bit. With plentiful peppered in laughter and light-hearted moments, the goofy, incompetent moronic bodyguard wasn’t needed, especially by an actor whose exploits will never age well and almost tarnishes the film’s legacy. Isaak would have selected a more capable, stern figure to protect his daughter. Delroy Lindo, one of the finest, most underrated thespians, put on a terrific performance as a father in the late-blooming stage of doing right. DMX as Silk the shortlived nightclub owner was a bonafide scene stealer. If only they gave him more than five minutes…

Trish in her childhood bedroom. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish in her element on the dance floor. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Other highlights are the dynamite fighting sequences— Han using Trish as a creative weapon is still riveting. The killer soundtrack features Aaliyah’s four songs produced by Timbaland (music executive of the film), Joe’s Rose in a Concrete World (playing in two different scenes), and Chanté Moore’s This is a Test— the film’s other saving grace. 

Trish with the smoking gun. DP: Glen MacPherson.

Trish O’Day will go down in history as a soft-hearted woman who had her father’s fire flowing on her veins. She couldn’t deny the instinctual prowess to become a valiant leader, knowing that when it comes to survival and shielding people that you care about from harm, sometimes violence is the answer. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Aaliyah: Fem Film Icon Spotlight

 

Aaliyah, photographed by Joe Wright.

Aaliyah Dana Haughton. 

Every time this January date arrives, it remains hard to stop imagining what would have happened if Aaliyah were still alive, still blessing us with edgy music and sleek dancing as well as advancing in her acting career. She had an incredibly layered vocal range coated in honey tinged softness— and she held back a lot, didn’t let us hear the full capacity of her depth. Furthermore, her screen presence delivered vivacious elegance in both her own classic music videos and in the cameos she brought to her friends Lil Kim and Missy Elliott— a unique style combination blending urban aesthetics with sophisticated fashion. She was in a class all her own, often duplicated yet no one else compared.  

Aaliyah singing on Star Search. 

Born on the same day as one of her favorite singers the enigmatic Sade, Aaliyah first performed at age ten on Star Search, choosing a sweet and hearty rendition of My Funny Valentine. Her loss to her competitor became our eventual gain. She would release three albums—two of which remain on heavy rotation ever since the days of middle school when the kids were performing the One in a Million beat on the cafeteria tables. Hard to believe that that iconic song did not win a Grammy (nor any other Aaliyah effort) proving that the show doesn’t always have the best musical record. She came out with an air of mystery, eye covered by a fringe of dark hair, soft spoken and articulate, effortlessly beautiful. 

Aaliyah was that 90’s cover girl from Sophisticated Black Hair to Teen Vogue. 

On the verge of pending stardom, Aaliyah starred in only two feature-length films— Romeo Must Die and Queen of the Damned, both directed and written by men. Even though this almost mirrors her musical history (with the abuser producer of her debut and Timbaland who has said weird comments about her), it was always wonderful seeing her with other incredible women— Missy Elliot, Lil Kim, 702, Changing Faces, Da Brat. She was set to star in the two Matrix sequels, Honey, and Sparkle— a film produced by Whitney Houston who looked forward to working with her. If only she had been supported and cared for, Aaliyah would have remained an unstoppable force, continued to be everywhere, smiling with such an infectious grace. 

Aaliyah in the Matrix sequels (scenes were reshot with her replacement Nona Gaye), as Trish O’Day in Romeo Must Die, and Akasha in Queen of the Damned

On August 25, 2001, the world lost the commendable Aaliyah in an awful, terrible way. During that time, we had been utterly riveted by her interviews—her excitable nature, her esteemed intelligence, her sweet humor, and her supreme modesty. She desired to branch out, to explore her artistry— testing out new sounds, playing new roles— the true sentiment of an entertainer. 

And although she didn’t get to show us as much as she hoped, we are forever grateful for what we received from her. 

Memorable Aaliyah quotes:

“Keep working hard and you can get anything that you want. If God gave you the talent, you should go for it. But don't think it's going to be easy. It's hard!”

“When I'm long gone, I want to be remembered not just as an actress or singer, but as a full-on entertainer.”

“I stay true to myself and my style, and I am always pushing myself to be aware of that and be original.”

“You have to enjoy your job; you should wake up every day and love what you do... I honestly do... From the bottom of my heart to the depths of my soul. I'm truly happy.”