“Is God Is’ Effectively Traces The Subtle Passages Of Pattern Male Violence

 

Is God Is film poster. 

Is God Is masterfully unpacks the narrative on societal protection of all male rage degrees and the women whose bloodthirsty desires to break that cycle with their own kind of violence. If the system refuses to give justice to victims, why not take action? 

Racine (Kara Young) and Anaia (Mallori Johnson) are sisters who hold on to each other tightly, delicately. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Ostracized twin daughters Racine and Anaia survive a gruesome fire as little Black girls, living as scarred adults together in a society that would already disrespect and demonize them sans the scars. Passive and quiet Anaia accepts any form of love that comes her way, preferring to a wallflower’s background, hiding her disfigured face in shadows. Volatile Racine’s a fighter through and through, smothering a simmered testiness that boils and boils. Despite varying personalities, these two sisters have a deep, intimate bond, a pulsing heartbeat that echoes scene to scene. Even during disagreements, their undeniable love for each other remains true.  

Racine and Anaia are employed as janitors, the low tiered, bottom feeding pole job operating in the nocturnal hours, cleaning around cubicles when the higher paid staff are away, usually never to see them. 

Jody (Vivica A. Fox) aka “God” asks a favor to ask her daughters. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Racine and Anaia’s mama Jody summons them at a crucial time. The unemployed sisters take a road trip— Racine excited and Anaia reluctant— and arrive in matching old-fashioned floral dresses, a girlish look that seems an opposition of who Racine is at her core and what Anaia wishes to be yet was robbed of. They’re in for a shock at the state of dying Jody, their “dying God.” She is propped up on a bed, face bandaged, brutally burnt flesh buried beneath a simple cover. The in and out pumping ventilator breathes for her, the attending nurses collective “ooo chile” sighs and tapping nails paint this specific Black authenticity as Jody reveals to Racine and Anaia what their devilish father did to them. 

Now Jody’s testimony spins a shockingly familiar story, a smooth, real charmer of a man who knew how to be a romantic sweet talker. Even with a restraining order against him, he manages to enter Jody’s tidy home, play at tender lover before putting his violent hands upon the woman who dares reject the kindness he has worked so hard to manufacture. We hear about this everyday. An ex lover, a husband, a boyfriend, an obsessive in-law, men at bars, gas stations, everywhere killing women for ending things or for saying no. A woman believing a flimsy piece of paper could keep her safe discovers that it cannot. The strangulation in the bathroom, purposefully bringing the girls into the bathtub, lighting that fatal match, walking away and whistling as the girls all scream with their mama— chilling and surreal. A deviant act of trying to annihilate his own family.

“Make your daddy dead,” Jody says as though her favor means getting the sugar she’s forgotten at the grocery store. 

Of course, Racine and Anaia debate over the task, Racine a bit perplexed and Anaia outright disgusted, the “no” in her eyes. Eventually, Racine warms up to the idea. Anaia needs more convincing. 

Divine (Erika Alexander) stands by a man who has long since abandoned her and their child. DP: Alexander Dynan.

The first stop on the revenge road trip is Divine, their father’s religious ex-girlfriend who doesn’t seem to know she’s an ex-girlfriend. Divine has converted her home into a church, a toxic place otherwise known for implementing manipulation tactics such as forced forgiveness and strategic Bible thumping, poisoned trappings that encourages people to stay with their abusers labeling it “God’s will.” Divine speaks in holier than thou sermons, in volcanic rhymes and rhythms that are more laughable than graceful. Divine’s son Ezekiel illustrates all the patterns of a pathetic mama’s boy, standing behind her, groveling and humming at her every word as though he’s a permanent backup singer. 

Racine and Anaia stay throughout these outrageous antics, soon astonished by Divine’s three strikes. First, she admits to supporting their father during Jody’s trial, believed him to be a genuine person capable of love, and still waits on his return— twenty years later! Talk about hard pills to digest in an introductory sitting from a ex stepmother. The church may lead people astray, turn the most burgeoning mind into ignorant mush, and this evidence bleeds into the next generation of spineless souls. False spirituality does not turn off a demented conditioning. Furthermore, did Divine’s brain stunt at the hands of their father? She has the mental capacity of a teenage girl. 

Having had enough, Racine successfully steals their father’s wallet out from the obnoxious time portal altar Divine has conceived of his belongings. The sisters flee, driving off to their next destination as Divine screams at them, hilarious and sad at the same time. 

Chuck (Mykelti Williamson) who originally thought Racine and Anaia were assassins, tries to convince them to stay off the beaten path. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Racine and Anaia next visit Chuck Hall, the lawyer who foolishly represented their father. While a fixated Divine believes that he will return someday, a tongueless Chuck suffers predicts that their father will come back to murder him. Chuck sees what Jody sees— an evil monster. Yes, it was colossally wrong to get paid to destroy Jody’s family life—lawyers represent horrific offenders all the time— and Chuck deals with the consequences in his own way. Instead of obtaining therapy to help medicate his obvious psychological distress, Chuck prefers violence initiated onto him. Perhaps, ever since the father thrusts Chuck’s head upon that steering wheel, it unleashed a sickly desire to feel the taste of blood between his teeth again. Apparently, according to scientific matters, pain and pleasure operates on similar stimuli. 

Still, Racine and Anaia look uncomfortable around this silent man who scrawls messages on a whiteboard. Chuck appeals to their sanity in hopes of saving them, already noting that Racine holds the same maddening expression as her father, a bloodthirsty hunger that would inject fear way before she lays hands on anyone. Out of the male characters in the film, Chuck appears the most regretful, the most sincere in a world of untrustworthy men. Yet, would Chuck be this person if he hadn’t been attacked by his own client? Would he have advised the girls if his tongue stayed intact? 

Racine and Anaia leave Chuck’s with an address, a bit more disturbed on the numbers their father performed on these complicated individuals, leaving behind a thread of red flags. Divine and Chuck stay trapped in differing disillusionment states, not realizing that they’ve already served a purpose like Jody, Racine, and Anaia. 

Racine and Anaia come closer to their destination until a masked motorcyclist destroys the sisters’ car. The motorcyclist chases them around, this very presence promising only violence. The revelation behind the helmet sends a crystal clear message, “blindly shield the male ego by any means necessary” even if it is a problematic figure they’ll never ever meet. 

The many facets of Angie (Janelle Monàe)— wife, mother, survivor, victim blamer, victim. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Angie, the fed up wife, dutifully plans a secret escape from her pristine glass house— the cleverer maneuver to leave behind monstrous humans. The timing could not be any more perfect. Angie’s spoiled twin sons, Scotch, the active aggressor and Riley, the quiet introvert are turning eighteen. Her money has been stacked. A new job and identity wait for her elsewhere. She understands that filing for divorce from such a husband is simply not possible. Yet, her facade has its noticeable cracks. Maybe she played a particular role for the husband not knowing what terrors he had in store. She’s doesn’t exude warm and nurturing vibes to Scotch. Despite an abrasive softness towards Riley, Angie isn’t mournful to him either. She’s not tossing any sentimental glances to her sons, her eyes are not filled with tears. In fact, she’s all hurry and rush, sentencing the whole house and its occupants to guilty. She no longer feels obligated to stay in a nightmare. 

Fresh from the Greyhound bus, however, Racine and Anaia await Angie on the road, halting the plan. Throughout the messy confrontation, Angie makes a mistake in boasting that her calculated scheme is leagues above Jody’s restraining order. Honestly, both women were correct to take precautionary steps. Jody thought the law would keep her and her daughters safe (which they should have) and Angie thinks a fresh restart will be her rescue. Angie keeps pushing the wrong buttons, her high and mighty persona bristling through icy words that fire up Racine’s anticipatory anger. If only she understood the girls terrible upbringing post-fire, if only she related to Jody a bit more… Angie’s privileges shines bright in the faces of poor, scarred girls. Racine and Anaia could have benefitted from the riches, accessing a stronger educational foundation, wielding better jobs, flawless skin, achieving dreams beyond the station that disfigurement pigeonholed them in. Yet, Angie, housing no genuine compassion for their plight, wants what’s best for herself. And the girls do not like that. 

In the middle of the plot’s near final stage, Racine (or Jody) cannot hold an imperative discussion regarding Anaia’s pregnancy reveal— finances, hospital bills, daycare, postpartum health, and other preparations. This unplanned, life-altering event adds more weight to Anaia’s tragic narrative, accepting conditions in an eagerness for love in any form even if it offers another shard to her fragile psyche. She is not thinking about the perplexing notion of single Black motherhood, the underlying conditions beneath the embedded madness within her problematic extended family. Motherhood is not akin to a sweet fairy tale ending on a chaste Disney kiss. We learn the hard, brutal way that most men expect more than a kiss to be happy. Anaia was practically sleeping with her enemy, a lustful man who couldn’t tolerate looking at her face. Boring a child sans a job and a supportive circle only leads to more eventual trauma, not something to be romanticized or celebrated. Black women lead in high fatality rates. Anaia’s baby sticks a poorly constructed band aid on a wound that’ll continue to keep bleeding. 

Riley (Justen Ross) and Scotch (Xavier Mills) believe their father has sent Racine and Anaia (unbeknownst to them their half sisters) to strip for them as an early birthday gift. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Racine and Anaia reach the last stage of the road trip, dedicating themselves to infiltrating the testosterone packed home, doing as their “God” asks. Racine preys on Scotch’s lust while naive Anaia confides in Riley, a boy who seems more like her than the twin who shared a womb. Back to back violent symmetries temporarily pin the sisters against each other, an unfortunate encompass right before their evil father returns. Scotch embodies their father. Riley’s perceived dormant side explodes out of the grief. Again, Anaia fails another test, her trusting personality fast becoming a liability. The battle between Anaia, Racine, and their father completes the God’s desire, the girls’ expressions wildly transforming hit after hit as though possessed by another entity. Were they no different than their brothers, Ezekiel, Scotch, and Riley? Their father?  

The end is of a great burning metaphor, a startling reminder of Racine and Anaia’s whole path to destruction began by their father’s fateful match.  

Overall, Is God Is received great positive reviews including a ninety-seven percent score on Rotten Tomatoes, having potential to be a box office smash or at least a sleeper hit. Original Black women led films helmed by Black women filmmakers rarely receive universal audience support. If there’s no built in expectations due to this sequel/prequel/remake/biopic culture and no huge big name attached, the odds are already stacked against it. The word of mouth backlash spreading from reactionary Black male filmgoers didn’t help either, much preferring to advocate for positive images of themselves, narratives controlled by their favored patriarchal gaze directors. The topic of Black Femicide has become a daily occurrence yet most Black men collectively speak out and/or make profane jokes against murdered Black women who have nonblack partners. They will scream “choose better” as though men won’t put on “nice guy” acts for years and years in order to retrieve certain benefits. 

Is God Is held up a mirror to their faces. That triggered glass reflects their fathers, grandfathers, brothers, uncles, best friends, barbers, and maybe themselves. to see ingrained behavior that a little therapy could have tried healing. Globally, the world puts a mask over such violence, especially if the offender is rich and affluent. People fight under comments on posts defending complete strangers, watch, listen, and read a known abuser’s work and proudly wear their face on t-shirts and buttons— demonstrating how far complacency goes, an easy acceptance of “genius” over individual harm. Divine and Angie clearly believed in the father’s changed behavior, bought into him being worthy of their love, and finding out that the costume falls off. 

The father (Sterling K. Brown) represents the pattern Black male violence that we cannot hide from. DP: Alexander Dynan.

Aleshea Harris wrote and directed the heck out of Is God Is, based on her award-winning play with Moses Sumney crafting a thought-provoking score. The film also contains one of the most engaging ensembles ever cast in a feature-length film. Everyone understood their assigned role perfectly and breathed authentic life into respective characters. Kara Young (double Tony winning actress in Mariama Diallo’s Hair Wolf and a small memorable part in Diallo’s first feature-length film Master) and Mallori Johnson (the best part of short-lived Kindred) lead with raw, extraordinary performances. Vivica A. Fox, Erika Alexander, and Janelle Monaé play incredible stepping stones into the man’s journey towards destruction. Sterling K. Brown is incredibly impressive as a vicious antagonist— the whistling, the smiling, even down to way he walked exhibited terror. Josiah Cross (brilliant in A Thousand and One), Xavier Mills, and Justen Ross performed their parts exceedingly well, echoing exactly the ranges of anger inhabiting young Black men. Mykelki Williamson’s Chuck was another phenomenal highlight, playing a character who had no voice, relying on body language and facial expression skills. 

Anaia and Racine apply each other’s makeup before parading around their own half brothers. DP: Alexander Dynan.

The limited run of the brave, heartbreaking Is God Is was well worth watching twice in the theater, strikingly poignant and deep on both encounters. This remarkable film stitches together intense thriller with a unique love story between sisters, heavy, relatable drama that dissects generational trauma at its crux. The harmful seeds implanted in the male mind continues to be coddled and protected with women always paying the ultimate price for risking their hearts. 

Saturday Soapy Flashback: Evangeline and Laylah Williamson, The Sistahs of Llanview

 

No other sisters could top this duo. 

Hotshot lawyer Evangeline “Vange” Williamson and her younger actress hopeful sister Layla painted the town of Llanview red on One Life to Live. Evangeline first arrived as dating RJ Gannon and representing for his daughter Keri Reynolds in the custody case, a storyline that tragically ended. Layla arrived two years later just as Evangeline’s in the midst of a terrifying stalking ordeal. Interestingly, Layla acquires a job as a waitress at Antonio’s owned Capricorn, RJ’s old place originally named after Keri’s zodiac sign where so many of his scheming lies took root. 

Layla (Tika Sumpter) almost gets shot by John McBain’s police force when Evangeline (Renée Elise Goldsberry) rescues her. After Evangeline chastises Layla for coming, she allows sis to move in. The friendship between Evangeline, Antonio (Kamar de los Reyes), and Layla grows delightful.

After bringing Layla’s belongings to Evangeline’s tastefully decorated apartment at 345 Fuller Street, Apt. 42, the girls go clubbing at RJ and Rex’s co-owned spot, Ultraviolet. Unfortunately, at the same time, the stalker trashes Evangeline’s home, leaving her so shaken up that she buys Layla a oneway ticket back to Los Angeles. Layla adamantly refuses, gung ho on offering her support by staying put. Ex cop Antonio becomes the next best idea. The trio’s beautiful friendship lends itself to short yet poignant conversations between Antonio and the sisters, at times separate one on ones or all three simultaneously. Highlights include Layla sharing a candid monologue on beauty to Antonio and Antonio confiding with Evangeline what he would give to again see his presumed dead brother Cristian.  

Absolutely adorable how Vange always pulls Layla into a squishy side embrace. The big smiles on their faces light up scenes. Now Layla planting a sour if the moment kiss on a taken Antonio— a big no no. Haha. 

Once the stalker mess ends, Evangeline lets Layla move in. All the sister fun fluff ensues, showing an engaging other side to Evangeline, a girlish, humorous, fiercely protective sibling. Yes, Evangeline shared many scenes with Nora Buchanan (as did Nora’s daughter Rachel and Keri), but the moments between Evangeline and Layla delivers what the audience needed, a break away from Evangeline’s love woes, courtroom drama, and danger constantly finding her. 

The girls sing Aretha Franklin’s Ain’t No Way over a pint of ice cream, Evangeline reminiscing about her failed relationship with John. The girls fall asleep on the couch together, showing that they’re each other’s safe haven.

Unlike other sibling relationships, either estranged (i.e. RJ and Hank Gannon) or the frosty sister enemies to cordial respect angle (Jessica and Natalie Buchanan), the refreshing dynamic of Evangeline and Layla hits the right notes, sweet and entertaining. The little tidbits on their upbringing— Layla stealing Evangeline’s jeans when the latter was fourteen or Evangeline constantly bossing Layla around— sounds typical, familiar. Sometimes we never forget the things a sibling does to/for us. The good and the bad occurrences holds our memories captive, especially if growing up together, seeing each other everyday for what seems a forever permanence. Evangeline exclaiming, “we’ll have each other’s backs!” to Layla conveys an authentic expression of reciprocal, unconditional love— the very promise lacking in her failed romantic relationships. 

RJ (Timothy Stickney) calling Evangeline (Renée Elise Goldsberry) a “self hater” in front of Layla (Tika Sumpter) when he’s mostly been with white women— pot meet kettle. 

Layla’s acting aspirations soon inspire Antonio to use her as an instrument for the upcoming custody battle between him and RJ. Evangeline—who’s representing Antonio— has chooses not to support this fallacy. Antonio qualifies as a gray character, dangling between the fence of leading by his heart and letting his anger blind rationale, partly why his romance with Keri failed. Evangeline knows he has a terrible temper and doesn’t want to see her sister hurt. Plus, she may often be hired by some of the most unsavory felons, Evangeline prefers obeying the law. Although Layla amps up the feign act, Antonio is not as convincing. This arrangement doesn’t depict him in a good light. 

Laylah and Antonio let Evangeline on a plan of them being a fake couple for Jamie’s custody hearing. The funniest part was Evangeline bopping her sister on the head mid-fake kiss.

The revolving door of women of color in One Life to Live kept being on the receiving stick of silly lopsided triangles— Antonio choosing a younger Jessica over Keri and John McBain’s preference of Natalie over Evangeline. The writers recycled smart, sharp women versus the spoiled rich girls repeatedly. It’s a running gag that the Buchanan sisters always wind up kidnapped or missing and that the other woman winds up finding them. Evangeline and Layla offer help to John and Antonio respectively find Natalie, the kidnapped victim, and Jessica, trapped in her mind mentally and physically by her split personality alter ego Tess.

Evangeline goes blind after being struck by glass during the Llanview twister. Layla cheers her big sis up with a cute stuffed Nala from The Lion King.

Soaps are mainly watched for high stakes stories, wildly entertaining villains, and streamy slow burning romances, potential super couples that people rush home for. With Evangeline and Layla, two gorgeous sisters searching for love in the wrong places, we had a terrific charismatic representation. In Llanview together for two years— two years of constant mayhem and drama— the Williamson sisterhood foundation was the best part of their entire presence. Their connection felt too real, too loving, far too luminous and magical for the soap world. We loved the banter, the sass, and the confidence among their reflections at either Evangeline’s apartment, the club, or the Vega diner. 

Even if their foolish lovers didn’t put them above, the sisters always chose each other. What’s more heartfelt than that?

The Williamson sisters in real life— Renée Elise Goldsberry (Evangeline) and Tika Sumpter (Laylah).

Evangeline and Layla’s portrayers have been pretty accomplished post One Life to Live.  

Well-known for Broadway smash Hamilton, Renée Elise Goldsberry is a noted Tony, Grammy, and Soap Opera Digest actress/singer with nominations for two NAACP Image Awards, three Black Reels, three Emmys (two for Daytime, one for Primetime), Critics Choice, Astra, etc. Films include leading roles in Christine Swanson’s Albany Road and All About You. Among television cult hit Girls4eva, The Good Wife, and Altered Carbon. 

Former model, children’s book author, and actress/producer Tika Sumpter starred as Michelle Robinson in indie darling Southside With You, Bessie’s lover Lucille in dee rees’s award-winning Bessie, Delores in Whitney Houston produced Sparkle, and the voice of Maddy in the live-action Sonic the Hedgehog franchise. Television roles include Watson, The Game (her Jenna Rice arc was a highlight), and Gossip Girl. Sumpter has been nominated for two NAACP Image Awards, a Gotham Award, and a Women’s Image Award. 

Not to mention having THE Julliard trained dancer/actress Janet Hubert aka the original Vivian Banks playing their mother Lisa Williamson. All that supreme talent on one soap in the middle of the afternoon. 

Twenty years later, it would be amazing to see Goldsberry and Sumpter unite on a future project—a film, television series, or even a web show. Their strongly believable sisterly chemistry made the soap bearable. The days they weren’t on was a simple waste of turning on the TV. 

Renée and Tika beautified the opening credits.

Nonetheless, One Life to Live fumbled hard on these two phenomenal Black women, their ends showing a continuous trend of callously mistreating Black and brown characters. Evangeline’s slow coma death by racism and Layla leaving town for Paris lacked the genuine care afforded to the prioritized characters. This also includes Keri’s madness descent before suicide, RJ and his brother Hank disappearing in the background, Rachel Gannon’s story, the list goes on. 

At least there are YouTube channels (Evangeline’s Heart and Wild Hearts Losers Club OLTL) with old episodes to look forward to rewatching the feel-good Evangeline and Layla content from beginning to end. The Williamson sisters were everything! 

That Clever Winsome Girl

Winsome (Sandye Wilson) pulled a heck of a feat. DP: Herman Lew.

Remember that old phrase, “win some, lose some?”

With a manifesting name like Winsome— by definition meaning “generally pleasing and engaging due to a childlike innocence”— she knows exactly whom to butter up. In her first Naked Acts scene, Winsome, the former artist model and active dancer demurely sits Indian style on the stool in actor/producer Marcel Brown’s office, punctual and quiet, giving off a coy radiance. For her soft, eloquent mannerisms, Marcel positions Winsome on a high pedestal, pitting her against the other actresses, latecomers Cece and Randi. 

This perfect composition paints a vital picture of the ladies’ varying personalities in Marcel’s office, Winsome (Sandye Wilson) towering over Randi (Natalie Robinson) and Cece (Jake-ann Jones). DP: Herman Lew.

The initial meeting allows an opportunity to read the room, to decipher everyone’s respective energies. Winsome already knows Marcel’s hierarchy— promptness, a positive attitude, and talent. The moment she raises her hand and smiles, the gesture reeks of an eager teacher’s pet. Marcel immediately softens his tone and regards her with affection. In fact, Marcel rarely raises his voice at Winsome. 

Although Winsome has the role of the artist’s daughter in the Body of Art film, Marcel sees that she has talent. Often, she sides with him during the cast read throughs. DP: Herman Lew.

Winsome’s humble sweetness has Marcel eating out of her hands. Moments happen between them— little stolen glances and her ready acceptance of his critiques. 

She may be kind to everyone on the film set, but there’s a factor reserved for Marcel, a certain agenda placed at his door. Marcel questions Joel’s decision to have Cece play the multifaceted Elana role, speaking of Winsome’s abilities, “so open, so raw, you seldom see that in an actress.” Maybe Winsome charmed her way into stubborn Marcel’s stern disposition by presenting a subtle mixture of naivety and grace, channeling the appropriate emotions warranted for Elana. Other hints foreshadow Marcel’s desire to replace Cece with Winsome and Winsome welcomes the opportunity. Is Winsome a girl’s girl or is she biding time to build herself up on the back of a noted actor/producer? 

Winsome is not at all villainous, more so an opportunist to be wary of, a surface level “good girl. By using her therapy as a tool to obtain what she wants, Winsome is a red flag character operating to the beat of her own drum. When Randi drops out due to clashing with Marcel and the artist’s daughter character is then written out, the moment ripens for other significant changes to be made. Winsome relishes the praise Marcel bestows upon her, his delight giving her a beacon of hope that modeling could not have granted. 

Cece (Jake-ann Jones) puts on a performance for their street harasser. Di (Renee Jones) looks surprised. Winsome is so stunned, she leaves immediately. DP: Herman Lew.

At Diane’s studio, after Winsome and Cece finish taking still images, Winsome changes out of her clothes with an ordinary ease typical shy girls don’t have. She exhibits comfort levels that evoke a model’s conditioning from the students who saw her body as a form shaped by highlights and shadows. Winsome seems like a girl’s girl when she compliments Di’s necklace, a nymph on a cross, agrees to lunching with Di and Cece, and gushes over Di’s womanist artwork. Once a street harassment goes completely awry, Winsome cries off, echoing Cece’s earlier reaction to undressing around them. This teases Winsome’s ongoing indecisiveness. These cancellations make her an unreliable support system for Cece who needs a stable, unselfish relationship. Although coworkers, Winsome and Cece could no longer stay at a professional level due to Winsome’s underhandedness. 

As Cece struggles to cry on cue, Winsome breaks down in tears. Genuine distress or an attempt to upstage Cece, further impress Marcel? The scene comes across as manipulative. DP: Herman Lew.

Cece learns another valuable lesson in that not every woman has the sister spirit, especially women like Winsome who wields reverse psychology tricks on Cece. Beneath the three fickle phone calls shows an intricate calculation, key details that divulge a clever wool over the eyes of those unfortunately wrapped up in Winsome’s drama within drama. She is prone to humblebrag, nonchalant yet pushing Cece’s buttons, hitting Cece where it hurts, “Elana requires more emotions than you have…” and positioning herself as the better choice.

When Joel misinterprets immensely private pillow talk, it backfires on him. Cece’s refusal of the sudden recast affects the entire production. While Joel faces consequences for mixing business with pleasure, Marcel proves who has the most filmmaking power and Winsome takes a position that she’s clearly wanted. In this act of betrayal, a sister looks so pleased with the outcome of tense events, sits in the very stool much like the one she sat on in Marcel’s office.

All Cece wanted was assurance.

And Winsome guaranteed, “I’m perfect for the spot you made.” 

A gleeful Winsome with Marcel during the film production. DP: Herman Lew.

Furthermore, Winsome neglects to vouch for Cece, saying, “she’ll probably change her mind” to Marcel. Winsome forgets that without Cece’s influence, Elana would not have any depth. Or perhaps deep down, she never cared. Obviously, Winsome held reservations about nudity. She’s also right regarding the whole long, lengthy shooting process. Taking off clothes for a running camera has permanent implications versus a few hours disrobing in front of visual artists whose differing perceptions transforms models between representational to abstract aesthetics. Plus, not all visual artists will become successful and filmmakers even indie makers have the tendency to have cult followings, especially the more risqué a film. For example, Lydia Love’s raunchy work gained a very supportive audience including both Joel and Marcel, two different kinds of men, but men nonetheless. Thus, Winsome wants to retain modesty outside of private classrooms. It doesn’t change the fact that Cece advocated hard for Elana’s agency, convincing Marcel to change what the role required. Winsome saw that script rewrite as a vehicle for herself. It all goes back to Cece struggling to cry and Winsome sobs on the spot, disrupting the pause just to center her abilities. 

Winsome becomes her most fearless during a confrontation with Cece. DP: Herman Lew.

Before this prominent supporting part in Naked Acts,Winsome’s portrayer Sandye Wilson had tiny roles in a Law & Order television episode and Charles Lane’s Sidewalk Stories. Wilson directed two short films, So Many Things To Consider (1996) and notsoprivate (2004)— naturally hard to find. The intriguing tidbit about these Black women films coming from the archives is that most of the actresses in them have few other meaty parts. Black women filmmakers put talented women on, a specialty being unknown actresses which Naked Acts highlights. Just as memorable as the commendable award-winning Jake-ann Jones, Wilson really sank her teeth into Winsome, pouring into a woman who reaped undeserved benefits. The word for her is a solid scene sharer (not scene stealer). 

Again, Naked Acts layers impeccable writing, direction, and acting into an amazing piece rich with concise characters. A good film often incites reaction, a deep introspective. You want to hold Cece through every version of her while shake sense into Winsome and her unseen therapist or share sensuous Lucille Clifton poems with Randi. This powerful narrative is akin to a evocative song that must be repeated for the fear of missing something in its entrancing beat. Every rewatch awakens dormant thoughts that other cinematic works have rarely touched on. 

‘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 Elana 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 (Ron Cephas Jones) 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 still 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.