The Black Visual Artist Journeys In ‘Really Love’ and ‘Olympia’

Really Love (2020) poster on the left and Olympia (2018) film poster on the right.

“People stay in your life for only a season.”

That’s the line the great late Suzzanne Douglas speaks as Anne Richmond, the mother to Stevie Solomon, an up and coming lawyer facing big decisions between love of a career and love of a new lover. In this tantalizing romance, Really Love, the worldly law student Stevie vibes instantly with the disadvantaged Isaiah Maxwell, a MICA graduated artist at an art opening. This artful backdrop to romance— especially Black romance penned by Felicia Pride and Angel Kristi Williams— has minor reminisces of another charming independent film— Olympia written by its star McKenzie Chinn.

Yet Really Love is the warm fudge brownie straight from the oven and Olympia is various flavored ice cream scoops atop a waffle cone. 

Isaiah (Kofi Siriboe) leisurely painting hard in his own trademark style in Really Love. Also shout out to the late Noah Davis— a wonderful painter. DP: Shawn Peters.

After receiving a gallery rejection email, Olympia (McKenzie Chinn) decides to draw in Olympia. DP: Christopher Vinopal.

Olympia drawing. DP: Christopher Vinopal. 

Like Isaiah Maxwell, Olympia Welles also has trouble breaking into the art world post college in Chicago. While Washington D.C. based Isaiah has a solid friend to look up to the already well-regarded Yusef Davis, Olympia has her best friend writer Jemma to share her struggle woos. Isaiah and Olympia are both Black artists migrating through the challenges in a system that prioritizes “The Next Big Thing.” Isaiah paints and paints, but Yusef’s interested curator Chenai Hungwe doesn’t think he’s reached full potential yet. That means working and working constantly. Whereas Olympia has a daytime office job and only squeezes in enough time for doodling. Her creative juices are threatened by everyday life stresses including a terminally ill mother. Two exceptionally skilled artists navigating through a gated system must find other avenues to survive— a reality not often taught in art school. Yet scenes feature Isaiah and Olympia making art, still defying the odds set against them. Painting and drawing are their great passions and it’s beautiful to see such love depicted onscreen.

Love is in the air for Isaiah (Kofi Siriboe) and Stevie (Yootha Wong-Loi-Sing). DP. Shawn Peters.

Felix (Charles Andrew Gardner) is impressed by Olympia’s (McKenzie Chinn) drawing of him that he requests to be the cover model of her future art book. DP: Christopher Vinopal.

Furthermore, the lovers of these artists— Stevie and Felix are the breadwinners. Stevie meets Isaiah at Yusef’s crowded art opening; the two instantly hitting it off. On an impromptu outing at a club, Isaiah sweetly walks her home. Afterwards, he gifts her with a painting. At a bar, Felix, a singer/guitarist performs live to an attracted Olympia. The sparks fly over smooth conversation, beer, and innocent photographs. Felix then walks Olympia home and serenades her. Cue the swoon. Now these stories are the true bearers of chivalry and romance, gestures overwhelmingly sweet and sincere. It takes us back to the old-fashioned wooing— gestures that are not overdone, just meaningful reflections of the characters.

Stevie and Isaiah deciding where to place his gifted painting in her lovely home. DP: Shawn Peters.

Olympia and Felix smooching well before even having a first date. DP: Christopher Vinopal.

Black love is beautiful. 

The good parts of the fall—handholding, picnics, wine, fireworks, and chilling— spending affectionate time together whenever possible are shown through visceral detail. The love scenes between Stevie and Isaiah and Olympia and Felix are sensually stirring. The filmmakers successfully highlight their striking chemistries ultimately united with strong, believable bonds that the characters feel for one another. 

Yusef (Michael Ealy) gives Isaiah (Kofi Siriboe) advice on inspiration. DP: Shawn Peters.

Olympia (McKenzie Chinn) has a special friend in Jemma (Ericka Ratcliff). They support each other’s creative endeavors despite the challenges pursuing art and writing brings. DP: Christopher Vinopal.

However, the key problem these relationships have are communication— often the major pitfall in most unions. Stevie and Felix have to understand that artists sometimes have an incapability to properly address certain issues caused by life’s detrimental successes or setbacks. Isaiah’s success is finally rising and due to that, he puts painting above his relationship. His joy has become his financial resource in a society that can turn our best efforts into capitalistic gain, so much so that painting becomes remedial labor. Once her schooling ends, Stevie has a chance of a lifetime for her dream in Chicago. Her severely lacking relationship encourages her to veer in the direction that would be more attentive. Meanwhile Felix already abandoned the musician life for a startup called Henrietta— meaning that he didn’t have the patience to play the waiting game as Olympia and Isaiah. He also has an opportunity to leave the Windy City behind to the sunny skies of California and wants Olympia to come with him. Olympia, however, is at an encompass and withholds her feelings of failure (turning thirty will supposedly do that) and defeat to Felix. 

Isaiah is in a major exhibition (along with fantastic artists Jamea Edmond-Richards and Jerrell Gibbs), but curator Chenai (Uzo Aduba) is not impressed yet. DP: Shawn Peters.

Olympia putting herself forward with consultant Gabriela (Charin Alvarez). DP: Christopher Vinopal.

An artist is always taught to learn to find balance between being too modest and being too arrogant. This is harder still for Black artists who must be very, very humble almost belittle themselves. Still, Isaiah and Olympia take the initiative to follow their goals. Isaiah has the helpful Jusef and Chenai in his corner. Olympia has luck on her side and her lackluster confidence turns into courage in the face of Gabriela— an elegant consultant who’s starting a new zine. 

Stevie (Yootha Wong-Loi-Sing) and Anne (Suzzanne Douglas) discuss a daughter’s future alongside a mother’s past. DP: Shawn Peters. 

Olympia contemplates her future as her mother, Angie (Penelope Walker) remembers her regrets. DP: Christopher Vinopal.

Really Love and Olympia wholly invests in its side characters too. Isaiah has good friends in Yusef and Nick and Stevie has her gal pals coffee shop owner Mecca and Sicily. Olympia’s friend Jemma is an up and coming writer suffering from imposter syndrome. Olympia’s older sister Grace is married and raising a young son with her wife AJ. Most interesting are the similar dynamics between Stevie and her mother Anne and Olympia and her dying mother Angie. They hit the same poignancy. As Anne dotes on regretting leaving behind her first and truest love, Angie reflects on her lost career path to becoming an even bigger star. Both mothers are telling their daughters to not let anything get in the way of chasing their dreams. 

Sicily (Naturi Naughton) and Mecca (Jade Eschete) give their bestie Stevie friendly advice. DP: Shawn Peters. 

“Even my friends with usual degrees are having trouble finding jobs,” Grace says to her younger sister Olympia. An art degree is unusual then? Yikes. DP: Christopher Vinopal. 

Really Love crew: top—director/co-writer Angel Kristi Williams, co-writer Felicia Pride, Kofi Siriboe (Isaiah), and Yootha Wong-Loi-Sing (Stevie). Middle—Uza Aduba (Chenai), Tristan Mack Wilds (Nick), and Naturi Naughten (Sicily). Bottom—Suzzanne Douglas (Anne), Jade Eshete (Mecca), Blair Underwood (Jerome), and Michael Ealy (Yusef). BlackAndFilmTV.

Both casts feature a shining array of refreshing talent. 

Really Love has the excellent Suzzanne Douglas and Blair Underwood playing Stevie’s judgmental, middle class parents with the award-winning Uzo Aduba as curator Chenwai, Michael Ealy as wise painter Jusef, Naturi Naughton (in a tiny role as Sicily), and Queen Sugar’s Kofi Siriboe as Isaiah. Casting director Kim Coleman also takes a generous chance on newbies Yootha Wong-Loi Sing as the leading lady Stevie, Dirk Gently’s Jade Eshete as Stevie’s bestie and stylish girlfriend to Nick played by Shots Fired’s Tristan Mack Wilds. The smooth jazz and blues infused soundtrack led by Khari Meeten’s rhythm features amazing cuts by Ari Lennox and Meshell Ndegeocello. The film is helmed by two terrific Black women creators—both previously seen at my favorite film festival, Blackstar— Angel Kristi Williams’ Friendzone L. A. and Felicia Pride’s tender. This work was told through gentle, precious hands. 

Olympia cast—Penelope Walker, Sadieh Rifai, Charles Andrew Gardner, McKenzie Chinn, and LaNisa Renee Frederick from Instagram.  

Olympia nods to the local Chicago scene beginning with poet McKenzie Chinn as Olympia, Charles Andrew Gardner as Felix, LaNisa Renee Frederick as Olympia’s sister Grace, Ericka Ratcliff as Jemma, and Penelope Walker as Angie. The musical composition has more independent pop which harmonizes with Kaitlin Martin’s quirky animations. Director Gregory Hix is able to celebrate the beauty of Chicago and push Chinn’s relatable story forward.  

Her in the private collection of the artist— enough said. DP: Shawn Peters. 

Charles and Olympia are embarking on new destiny together. DP: Christopher Vinopal. 

Really Love (on Netflix) and Olympia (Amazon Prime/Hoopla) are important examples of the refreshing perspective film can venture when Black women are given the chance in the directing and writing realm. Black people are more than slaves, mammies, and other tired Hollywood tropes— we are visual artists too. We love to paint and draw. Our navigation through the system dominated in white art canon may be a tough hurdle to overcome (with many never able to jump the high obstacles), but triumphant people like Isaiah and Olympia exist. They sometimes fall in and out of love. Stevie and Felix as well as a valid support systems champion them.

Both films, also currently streaming on kanopy, are the perfect double feature for those looking for solid back to back Black romances with art in mind. 

‘The Ice Storm,’ Reflecting On Ang Lee’s Artic Drama

 

The Ice Storm film poster. 

“The meaning of Fantastic Four was that a family is like your own personal anti-matter. Your family is the void you emerge from. And the place you return to when you die.”—Paul Hood contemplating on life whilst reading Fantastic Four Issue #141 The End of The Fantastic Four 

Based on Rick Moody’s novel, the characters in The Ice Storm are as insufferably cold and frigid as the title metaphorically implies. Set between New Canaan, Connecticut and New York City, two middle-class, white suburbia families cross boundaries with each other. These are privileged people— middle aged adults “raising” children who are clearly interested in adult actions— mainly sex, drugs, and alcohol. 

The film opens on Paul’s train. 

And it has stopped operating due to inclement weather.

Fresh off the highs of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man and Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, I first watched Ang Lee’s icy classic twenty years ago on VHS with the geeky hope of Tobey Maguire and Elijah Wood sharing scenes together. They don’t. Yet their characters are eerily similar. Paul Hood is an awkward intellectual who philosophizes life through a comic book perspective and smokes pot with his girl stealing roommate, Francis Davenport (played by David Krumholtz). Mikey Carver is a quiet eccentric nerd who is bad at sports and obsessed with molecular science and Paul’s sharp sister younger Wendy. Furthermore, Mikey’s relationship with his father Jim is frosty as opposed to Paul’s stiffly relaxed relationship with Ben. 

Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd) and Mikey (Elijah Wood) serve guests in aprons at their parents’ dinner and later sneakily drink wine in the kitchen. The adults just never seem to watch their children’s behavior. 

On the surface, the Carvers and the Hoods appear civil to each other. Their marriages, however, are charades put on for the neighbors. Janey and her husband Jim Carver have lost the spark between them— likely due to his constant travels and bed “performance” capabilities. Elena no longer desires to be intimate with her husband Ben Hood. 

Elena (Joan Allen, right) offers to wash the dishes, but Janey (Sigourney Weather, left) nearly blows her head off with her declinations. Afterwards, she plays calm and collected, reasserting her “no” with “it’s quite alright.”

One of the most incredible cropping is this scene of observing retired servants Mikey (Elijah Wood) and Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd) watching the adults drinking. 

While Elena is extremely timid with Ben, Elena and Wendy do not have the closest mother/daughter relationship either. In Wendy’s mind, Elena represents the rebellious notion, “you are my mother, but I don’t have to like you or be like you.” Wendy is an outspoken political wildfire, a shoplifter, and smoker all at the age of fourteen. And she is very, very interested in the male body in an imperviously wicked way. Polar opposite Elena wants to mimic her daughter— obtaining her lost youth, her lost pleasure. She seems a damaged product of her time— trapped in an unhappy marriage which likely happened at a young age. Yet Elena’s dreamy perception of Wendy is far from who Wendy truly is. 

Red coated Wendy Hood (Christina Ricci) through Elena’s eyes— a free spirited girl who can do anything, be anything. 

But in reality, Wendy is on her way to steal snack cakes…

The Ice Storm hits on heavy territory that may be too sensitive for viewers, especially in the frank and bizarre scenarios involving overtly curious children. By clinically revealing the natural inclination to explore the human body, the film discloses on the deepest, darkest intimate secrets of the young psyche. When Mikey and Wendy are kissing, they are not embracing or touching each other. They are joined only by their experimenting lips, merely approaching the science of this act without the emotional attachment. 

Close up on Mikey and Wendy’s outdoors make out session.

The wide shot angle. 

On the other hand, the unbalanced Sandy Carver— the most terrifying of the children— has the potential to become a vicious grownup. He already has this fixated quality about him— a fixation on violence and an unhinged fixation to Wendy. He appears to be the epitome of danger which is precisely what draws Wendy on in. They both have an unhealthy taste for walking down the wrong tracks. 

Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd) aims his army soldier at the retreating Wendy. Wendy will later undress the soldier. 

Lines are drawn and some are deliberately trying to cross them. Janey is having sex with Ben, but Ben needs the soundboard aspect too. Predatory Wendy is the center of a strangely demented triangle— two brothers— a secret unboyfriend and a toy to play with. An envious Paul is trying to get a rich New York classmate’s attention, but uses drugs in a ruthless tactic. The teens are too corrupt to make positive choices (and it takes Paul a long while to leave a rape-y situation) and the adults are invested in their own psychological, midlife crises to offer parental guidance. Without such aide, the young ones are left alone raging on hormones and accessible alcohol. Obviously, they all need therapy. 

Janey and Ben are both deprived. 

Bored Janey barely notices what Mikey and Sandy are up to. Between ironically reading Phillip Roth’s When She Was Good (a novel about a severely moral woman), alone with an always traveling Jim, and seeking sexual pleasures from around the neighborhood, Janey is the definition of absent housewife. She tries to assert some authority over the youth though. When Janey spies Sandy blowing up aircrafts with dynamite or Wendy taking advantage of Sandy in her own bathroom, Janey tries to set them both straight on their unlawful behaviors— albeit unsuccessfully. 

Elena (Joan Allen) and Jim (Jamey Sheridan) are the last ones left in the key party house. 

During the weather warning, the local key party builds the climax. Everyone is so enthusiastic for the open relationship phenomenon that a woman even brings her son as her date. A man disgustingly wishes people brought their daughters too. There is no real shame, no ostracizing of this convoluted behavior. Maybe New Canaan residents are all sex crazed and must turn to each other in a nefarious Mister Rogers Neighborhood way. Still, Elena—who has easily figured out Ben and Janey’s affair—reluctantly attends something not in her repressed nature. Like a victorious cougar, Janey pulls out the son’s key and goes off wherever much to the embarrassment of Jim, Ben, and Elena. 

The morning after.

The Ice Storm is a complicated favorite for its compelling, abrasive narrative. The cast is perfect too— Sigourney Weaver, Joan Allen, and Kevin Kline along with Elijah Wood and Tobey Maguire. Another scenic pleasure included Christina Ricci whose Wendy mirrors her earlier Wednesday Adams in The Addams Family. Ang Lee’s daring direction and Frederick Elmes picturesque cinematography combines vividly well to the haunting music Mychael Danna composed. This here is real quality cinema. Heavy yet beautifully made.   

In a light afternoon, Ben (Kevin Kline) picks up Wendy (Christina Ricci) as though she were a child and not a blossoming teenager. 

In the late night, Ben (Kevin Kline) carries Mikey (Elijah Wood) to his car.

The man carrying a red coated child has heartbreaking symmetry. In one moment, Ben holds Wendy away from the Carvers house not just because her feet are cold. Ben naively believes that by shielding his daughter away from the dangers that boys like Mikey represent, that he could protect her innocence— unknowing that that concept is long lost. Ben had earlier given Paul a delayed “birds and bees” talk yet scolded Mikey for fooling around with Wendy. There is celebration for a father’s son to sow wild oats early on, but a daughter remains virtuous in a father’s eyes. By the end, Ben finds Mikey lying face down in a red bubble coat and lifts the cold body of the very boy he blasted. It delivers a tragic parallel between Mikey and Paul— these teenage boys so alike yet never share a moment together—that Mikey reminds Ben of Paul and doesn't necessarily need to voice the grievance aloud. 

Paul (Tobey Maguire) boarding off the train with his Fantastic Four comic, oblivious to the befallen.  

With a soft, clandestine tone surrounded in tremulous ice and whispering wood, The Ice Storm is a startling, eye-opening drama that dissects the roots of repression and sexual awakening. The harrowing credits roll on the sad underlying fact that when death comes, the dying have no choice (broken or not) but to return to the place they came from. 

‘Nanny’ Addresses The Terrifying Price of the American Dream

 

Nanny film poster.

Deceptive appearances crack beneath the calm surface in a slow simmering horror Nanny. 

The affluent white savior Amy hires freshly arrived Senegalese immigrant Aisha to take care of her daughter Rose in a clean, immaculate Tribeca penthouse. An eager Aisha plans to have her own son Lamine join her in New York. Their talks on the time-limited phone bring Aisha the most joy. Immediately, Aisha and Rose form an intense connection. Rose is adept to French and even eats much to Amy’s surprise. However, it is Aisha’s food that Rose is enjoying— not the latest food crazes that Amy has been introducing. 

When Amy’s husband Adam returns, he is absolutely cold to Amy, almost causing a humiliating spectacle. He is softer towards Rose, bringing a book on Anansi the Spider from his latest trip. His office reads more museum than personal workspace. His photographs of global activists, the books in various languages— they’re a collection of travel souvenirs and displayed wealth. While Aisha hides her struggle to provide substantial monetary support for Lamine’s journey, Adam is able to travel freely without restraint. The differing lives that Aisha and this couple lead showcase the spaces money allows them to inhabit. Amy’s continued ignorance to pay Aisha her worth and pay that worth on time begins to interfere with the couple’s manufactured politeness. Perhaps Amy believes Aisha doesn’t understand the American dollar system and pays her purely on the Senegalese exchange rate.

Aisha (Anna Diop) and Rose (Rose Decker). Image from Sundance Film Festival. DP: Rina Yang.

An overworked Aisha represents the modern Mammy, a nursemaid to a spoiled child. The longer Aisha is forced to stay in the increasingly estranged couple’s home— often overnight— the more weight the hold has on Aisha’s conscience. This well-executed tension builds to an insurmountable stress and pain beyond physical. Rose is placed high above on a hierarchy that Aisha must obey. The heartbreaking consequences of this terrible truth threatens to wholly consume Aisha. So the rule-breaking spiders crawl with defiant purpose and the surreal waters flood Aisha’s vulnerable thoughts with complicated messages. 

In the midst of the rising supernatural elements, a tenderly constructed romance blossoms between Aisha and the Tribeca penthouse bellhop Malik. The attractive pair have much in common— both raising young sons and working indentured roles. In one particularly striking scene— an appetizing predecessor to beautiful dark brown skinned bodies joining together— is that blissful car ride. The camera turns sharply on Malik driving Aisha along, Sampa The Great’s Grass Is Greener trembles in the background of a perfectly lit night. Aisha deserves a natural, unconditional love. Kind, gentle Malik— in Aisha’s age range— asks for consent, woes her, and offers support including through his grandmother Kathleen. 

Nanny writer/director Nikyatu Jusu integrates her cinematic influences with a sophisticatedly charged personal narrative that strikes the viewer’s emotional core. Firstly, Ousmane Sembène’s La Noire De and his muse Mbissine Thérèse Diop swim across the Atlantic to contemporary America; hoping to test out her waters and fulfill her dreams only to find the abject labor again. The mermaid (which is not a Eurocentric beauty form at all, more creature than seductive siren) comes from many symbolic stories and the noted emphasis on the collage painting by Wangechi Mutu (a Kenyan-American artist) stresses an underlying connection between Aisha’s unconscious demons and the never ending plight of water, this historical Black fear that reaches farther back to the days of drowning bodies. Even cinematographer Rina Yang’s breathtaking scenes of gorgeously lit Black skin were so stunning that blinking became an impossible exercise. 

The cast is led by the utterly remarkable Senegalese actress Anna Diop as Aisha— a role she was destined to become and not just because she shares a certain surname. Diop conveys the personal agonies that continue seeping into Aisha— her fear, her sorrow, her pleasure, her frustration, and her grief. She fiercely portrays a character’s internal struggle, withholds so much from everyone until the shockingly familiar breaking point. Sinqua Falls is given more than the average Black male love interest. Malik is still reeling with regret over the memories of his mentally unstable mother. At the same time, he is falling for a distressed young woman. No one is truly considering her happiness or her well-being. There is so much care in the handling of him, so much gentleness that Falls expresses. Plus, Leslie Uggams— from the Ossie Davis directed classic Black Girl— plays Malik’s wise, insightful Grandmother Kathleen, a wonderful treat seeing legacy Black actresses and actors onscreen. 

While white critics cannot properly comprehend a racial lens horror scope outside Jordan Peele’s ever present shadow, others understand Jusu’s resourceful parallels in Nanny strengthen a cyclic story specifically known to Black women immigrants caring for their charges— at times knowing these children better than their own. The scariest takeaway is that the price people like Aisha pay to reside in a country promising freedom is usually with their lives. 

‘Master’ Puts the Phobia In ‘PWI’

Regina Hall stars in Master.

Through a jarring horror lens, Mariama Diallo’s Master candidly insinuates the notion that Black women are the most educated people and often the most disrespected. This disrespect is either demonstrated in the cruelest, most malicious intentions or through more subdued channels.

At the prestigious academic Ancaster College in a New England setting, whiteness reigns in form of faculty, student body, and framed paintings on the very grounds that Salem witches were burned. Gail Bishop is promoted as the first Black woman master just as freshman Jasmine Moore steps foot on the campus. Of course, master suggests many definitions. The ever present servant bells subtly relay a strong message that certain habits cannot ever change. In fact, the institution marks boxes off the “diverse” campaign checklist, but the servants are still Black people quietly seen in the background as janitors, cooks, and servers. They are the absent ones unlisted in brochures and commercials, paying another bargaining price with their labor. 

Gail and Jasmine are isolated from each other— two Black women forced to adapt, to submerge in the sea of a sinisterly evil whiteness— almost entirely alone without friends or family that mirror themselves. The daily microaggressions are bullets that fly constantly. For example, Gail listens to her boss, Diandra change her speech from “Black woman” to “woman of color.” This adds fuel to the existing fire that being Black and proud harms white people in particular, that there is something so unnaturally wrong about the pride of a race once considered three-fourths human. The phrase “woman of color” places Gail in a false sense of inclusion, hiding her true identity for the sake of white comfort. Diandra also emphasizes, “it was different for me” on referencing her previous position as master. This implies her privilege as a white woman. In society’s history of women, the first accomplishments for women were always the more triumphant white woman. They could move into spaces more safely, pushed purely on through by the heavy handed guidance of white male allegiance. Yet Gail is moving through with Diandra’s aide and it is not always with good solidarity.

Meanwhile, a sweet, Afro haired Jasmine— assigned to the haunted room—is trying to fit into her tokenism role as well. The white girls easily clique together. Jasmine’s far worse roommate makes it abundantly clear that Jasmine is not welcome. The students mock her for her blackness and clamor over Black music, pleasurably salivating at the “n” word through song. Her hostile professor makes Jasmine an enemy much as the Black lunch lady. Hell, even the librarian has it out for Jasmine. As the pranks become meaner (nooses and burning crosses) and the nocturnal ghost visits interrupt her dreams, a quieter, straight-haired Jasmine perseveres. The supernatural dangers that threaten her daily existence align heavily with the present school climate. Both determined to squash away Jasmine’s joy. 

Diallo’s confrontational screenplay definitely puts a daring perspective on the terrifyingly psychological and emotional experiences endured at predominantly white institutions and even predominantly white workplaces. There is a conditioning that happens, quite slowly, to especially Black women— the need to satisfy and appease, losing self in the role of seeking gratification to keep their place, a place constantly threatened and undermined. The real scare, depicted believably well, is the moral dilemma. How much can a Black woman withstand from continuous trauma— a trauma that is ultimately generational? 

“You’re so divorced from reality that you can’t tell Black from white!” Gail screams. 

Master also stabs at the injustices of colorism— another undeniable privilege. In academia, Black women are least likely to have tenure. If a Rachel Dolezal can accomplish what many cannot, it is a glaring problem that sadly continues— a problem framed as “transracial.” In Hollywood and media, the weakest biracial and light skinned actresses acquire parts that brilliantly skilled monoracial Black women are passed over for. The hungry, bloodthirsty greed to steal the bare minimum incentives offered is a source of power and entitlement. 

In addition to the gorgeous moody cinematography that enhances the bold screenplay and the sound department’s ability to heighten the most electrifying moments, the cast performances are outstanding. Regina Hall is a dynamic force as Master Bishop. Hall has always been a brilliant actress— in both comedy and drama. Yet in this horror, she must channel bravery in ways Scary Movie could not begin to penetrate. Jinn’s Zoe Renee is utterly impressive as the intelligent college student searching for answers on the past while the present forces her to be conditioned in the face of calculated tortures and manifested rage. Renee is able to maneuver through such strong, sensitive material. 

Master is a hard, uncomfortable monster to swallow. Disturbing paintings of white men hang in nooks and crannies— white men who were likely foul, callous racists and slave owners or supporters of slave owners. It questions the allegiance of institutional legacies, especially imperative in spaces where Black people are encouraged to roam freely to perform for the lasting impact of desegregation. What value lies in having Black people enter without giving them the full background on these men and their perceptions? Aren’t some of their beliefs still indoctrinated into the very core of the facility, faculty, and students? 

Although Gail and Jasmine attempt normality against the haunting, it never stops coming for them. The internal battle for a “seat at the table” goes hand in hand with the battle against an ugly history that cannot ever be forgotten. 

The Resurgence of Natural Hair in TV, The Last Five Years

 

Natural hair is slowly picking up the pace, especially on most streaming platforms. 

Lately, natural hair has been having an incredible renaissance. 

Shaved heads, teenie weenie afros (TWAs), full blow outs, locs, box braids, cornrows, and more are being worn by many Black women characters on television. They are showing off their versatile creative expression of beauty— head first. This thrilling ride gives Black women viewers the extra courage to celebrate themselves in the mirror, to value what’s already there, and also provides immense inspiration for hair salon visits. For so long, the audience had to settle with the ironed image— the straight haired Black woman fitting in with her non-Black counterparts, hiding her roots to impress the masses. Although the straight hair image remains prominent today, actresses are letting their preference shine bright. In the past, nappy, coils, kinky hair was viewed unkempt, unprofessional, unruly— and this would be included in a televised storyline. 

Taylor Bryant’s article, The Problem With Natural Hair On TV, closes with this:

“Hopefully, these shows will act as inspiration for more Black actresses to feel comfortable shedding their wigs before the camera starts rolling. With more women embracing their natural hair IRL, it’s only right that this be accurately — and positively — reflected on the shows they regularly watch.”

One show Bryant highlighted was How to Get Away With Murder. Annalise Keating originally took her makeup and wig off after a hard day’s drama in earlier episodes. This stress related unmasking revealed a secret few were privy to know about her. Except the hair she hid from her workplace was gorgeous— always well moisturized and trimmed. Why cover such perfection? By the final season, however, Annalise wore her natural afro with pride and power; enhancing the strength and dignity of her character’s phenomenal growth. Natural hair is beautiful, resilient, and authentic. 

While characters like Florida Evans in the classic Good Times are still remembered, modern contemporary shows such as Insecure, Black Lightning, Queen Sugar, Greenleaf, and Blood & Water feature the flawless elegance of Black women’s natural hairstyles, a limitless range that was historically vilified (still is in some instances). This new wave of a positive intentional approach to Black women’s beauty— a validity growing from small screen to film— seems a form of activism that speaks volumes— “this is me, this is us!” 

Let’s keep the momentum going so that the next generation will continue seeing themselves reflected onscreen. The color of their skin and their texture and style of hair deserves recognition. 

Here are Black women television characters from various series in the last five years sporting natural hairstyles:

Our Kind of People’s Angela and Nikki Vaughn (played by Yaya DaCosta and Alana Bright from 2021-2022). 

How to Get Away With Murder’s Annalise Keating (played by Viola Davis from 2014-2020).

Black Lightning’s Lynn Pierce (played by Christine Adams from 2018-2021).

Insecure’s Issa Dee (played by Issa Rae from 2015-2021).

Insecure’s Kelli Prenny (played by Natasha Rothwell from 2015-2021).

Queen Sugar’s Nova Bordelon (played by Rutina Wesley from 2015-present).

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier’s Sarah Wilson (played by Adepero Oduye, 2021).

Wandavision’s Monica Rambeau/Geraldine (played by Teyonah Parris, 2021).

Cherish the Day’s Gently James (played by Xosha Roquemore, 2020).

I May Destroy You’s Arabella (played by Michaela Coel, 2020). 

A Black Lady Sketch Show various characters (played by Ashley Nicole Black from 2019-present)

All Rise’s Lola Carmichael (played by Simone Missick from 2019-present).

Random Acts of Flyness’s Najja (played by Dominique Fishback, 2018).

Star Trek:Discovery’s Commander Michael Burnham (played by Sonequa Martin-Green from 2017-present). 

Van Helsing’s Doc (played by Rukiya Bernard from 2016-2021, also presently recurring on Yellowjackets).

Blood and Water’s Thandeka Khumalo (played by Gail Mabalane from 2020-present).

Blood and Water’s Zama Bolton (played by Cindy Mahlangu from 2020-present).

Blood and Water’s Wendy Dlamini (played by Natasha Thahane from 2020-present).

Greenleaf’s Kerissa Greenleaf (played by Kim Hawthorne from 2016-2020).

Greenleaf’s Zora Greenleaf (played by Lovie Simone from 2016-2020).

Run the World’s Ella (played by Andrea Bordeaux 2021-present, image is from her guest starring on NCIS, 2013).

P Valley’s Mercedes (played by Brandee Evan’s from 2020-present). 

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency’s Farah Black (played by Jade Eshete from 2016-2017).

Harlem’s Tye (played by Jerrie Johnson from 2021-present).

Harlem’s Dr. Elise Pruitt (played by Whoopi Goldberg from 2021-present).

Harlem’s Angie (played by Shoniqua Shandai from 2021-present).