A 2021 Film Journey: Day 54

Today was another rough one at work, but on the bright side the major project I’ve been breaking my back to get done has been kicked off and I should be done with long days for a bit at least. So while today is going to be another short entry about a single film, I have hope that soon I’ll be back into a more consistent multiple film watching routine.

Ganja & Hess (1973, Dir. Bill Gunn)

What's on TV Sunday: 'Ganja & Hess' and 'Outcry' - The New York Times

The 70s have proven to be a surprisingly fruitful decade for films by Black directors. Granted, most of them were created outside of the studio system, but it’s still been a fun batch to visit even if the money hasn’t always been there. Watching tonight’s film, Ganja & Hess, I can feel the budget constraints, but the film makes up for that by leaning into a more experimental tone to a vampire horror film.

What stood out the most about the film is much of the imagery. The film makes liberal usage of Christian iconography to play on the traditional motif of vampires being averse to a cross. While the vampires in Ganja & Hess don’t burn at the site of these religious objects, the film also uses the imagery of a noose in multiple locations as a more relevant symbol of pain for the Black characters. Gunn relies heavily on vampirism as a metaphor for Blackness. It represents something about Ganja (Marlene Clark) and Hess (Duane Jones) that they can’t control or escape, and others judge them for.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 53

I swear that weekend was actually only one day not two. How is it possible that it’s Monday again? Complaining aside, Monday means I’m back to working all day so movie watching is going to be limited. That’s especially true today and tomorrow as we attempt to go live with a large project. I once again found myself not logging off until around 9pm, so today’s going to be another quick entry.

MLK/FBI (2020, Dir. Sam Pollard)

MLK/FBI (2020) - Rotten Tomatoes

Tonight’s viewing was one that I wanted to watch last month for MLK day, but Black History Month seems just as appropriate. MLK/FBI is a documentary comprise entirely of archival footage of Martin Luther King and J. Edgar Hoover with expert voice over. The film goes into the devious plot of Hoover’s FBI to expose King as a liar, a communist sympathizer, and an adulterer throughout the last decade of the civil rights leader’s life.

Evaluating the film, it’s always difficult to separate the subject from the film when watching documentaries. For 100 minutes, my attention was fully captured as director Sam Pollard filled in significant details of an aspect of MLK’s life that I only knew broad strokes about. The tension between conservative G-men and the Black leaders creates for an entertaining story, but does it make for a good documentary? If I’m being honest, while my ears were always engaged, there were definitely times where my eyes lingered away from the screen. The archival footage has its charm, but especially as some of the clips repeated, I felt like I could’ve just as easily been listening to a podcast. It leads me to an interesting conclusion where I feel like I full-heartedly recommend watching the film even if I don’t think it makes the best of its medium.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 52

I can’t seem to get healthy these days. Only one movie today, and I’m honestly surprised I even managed to get through that. I can’t seem to get over my exhaustion and once again find myself with a fever barely able to get out of bed. Sorry this one is going to be quick, but at least yesterday’s post was a longer one to make up for it.

Buck and the Preacher (1972, Dir. Sidney Poitier)

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I honestly had no idea before today that Sidney Poitier ever directed, but it turns out that not only has he, Buck and the Preacher is the first of his nine features, the first five of which he also starred. While as an actor, Poitier was exceptional, in his first outing in the director’s chair, he ended up producing a rather by the numbers western film, albeit one with a much Blacker cast than most.

Poitier plays Buck a wagon master who makes a living guiding free slaves through the frontier to a better life in the west. After the group he’s in charge with is robbed by a white town who need the former slaves to work for cheap labor, Buck joins a con-man preacher (Harry Belafonte) to exact revenge on the attackers and take back the group’s seed money. While the story is fine, it’s also unremarkable. Every beat is predictable and would fit well into a weekly western lineup. Likely the only reason the film has stayed relevant through the years is the novelty of a western telling a Black story and the acting pedigree of the director.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 51

I can tell that this weekend was much needed because even after a day of doing nothing but relaxing, I feel incredibly weary. The fact that I have to log back on tomorrow is a little upsetting given how exhausted I am, but I still managed to get some good movie going in today and hope to fit some in tomorrow as well.

25th Hour (2002, Dir. Spike Lee)

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While most of the films I’ve watched for Black History Month so far this year have told Black stories, my only criteria for myself is that they be directed by a Black filmmaker. Today’s film joins The Old Guard as the films that don’t have Black leads. I call this out in hopes of checking my own subconscious bias because 25th Hour was one of my favorite viewings so far this month. I believe it’s a current favorite because of a restrained Spike Lee in the director’s chair and some sublime acting performances, but I feel the need to call it out none the less.

Edward Norton provides one of the exceptional performances as the lead Monty, a man coming to terms with his incarceration the next morning. As a man preparing to lose the next seven years of his life, he exhibits the five stages of grief highlighted by a memorable bathroom monologue encapsulating the anger state. Accompanying Norton’s stellar performance is a classic outing from arguably the greatest actor of his time Philip Seymour Hoffman. Hoffman plays Jacob, a professor who is Monty’s childhood friend. The timid, reserved character acts as a perfect foil for Morty’s overconfident persona, and Hoffman was perfectly cast.

As good as the acting in the film is, what makes this film stand out to me above many of Spike Lee’s other films is how the film eschews some of his more bombastic tendencies that become pitfalls to some of his other films (including the two of the ones I reviewed earlier this year). Maybe it’s because Lee outsourced the writing of this screenplay, or maybe it’s because Norton was able to channel Lee’s grandiose vision better than others, but 25th Hour seemed to be Spike Lee working near his peak.


Afterwards, I turned to my personal movie collection to grab a film that I’ve purchased but not yet watched.

Walkabout (1971, Dir. Nicolas Roeg)

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Nicolas Roeg’s Australian New Wave feature Walkabout created an odd double feature when paired with 25th Hour. While the Spike Lee joint was loud and full of wonderfully over the top performances, Walkabout was a much more grounded and methodical viewing (though somehow the much darker film of the two at the same time). The film is about a girl and boy (Jenny Agutter and Luc Roeg) who are abandoned in the outback. After days on their own with little hope of surviving, they are found by an Aboriginal boy (David Gulpilil) who guides them to civilization despite the language and custom barrier.

Beyond the setup, the film is remarkably simple. Much of the film is comprised of nothing but the two or three children walking through the desert. The dialogue hides the films themes as the girl attempts to protect her little brother from the reality of their predicament, and the Aboriginal boy does not speak their language (and is not subtitled). It’s through this simplicity that director Roeg extracts depth. The film plays with themes of loss of innocence and is packed with biblical imagery for those willing to be unlike the young boy and seek meaning beyond the literal.


After the two features, I finished off my evening with three more documentary shorts from this year’s Oscar short list.

Colette (2020, Dir. Anthony Giacchino)

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Colette is a documentation of the woman Colette Marin-Catherine a French woman who was part of the resistance against the Nazi’s visiting the work camp that her brother was killed in 75 years prior for the first time. This film fell a little short to me. The initial minutes set it up to tell the story of this woman who joined the French Resistance when she was 14, but instead focus entirely on her brother who died in the war. It feels like the more interesting story that was set up was forgotten minutes in.

Call Center Blues (2020, Dir. Geeta Gandbhir)

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Call Center Blues took a new viewpoint on the immigration crisis that plagues the USA. The short looks at a community of members who have been deported from the USA and work in a call center just across the border in Tijuana. Many have their families still living on the other side of the border, so the community of other deportees becomes all the more important. I enjoyed this one a decent amount, but it definitely lost the through line of the titular call center rather quickly.

Abortion Helpline, This is Lisa (2019, Dir. Barbara Attie, Mike Attie, and Janet Goldwater)

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The best of the three documentary shorts tonight, Abortion Helpline, This is Lisa watches workers of an abortion funding helpline as they are continuously short on funds to give. These depressing calls are intercut with archival footage of congress passing the Hyde Amendment, the reason Medicaid can’t be used to pay for abortions and the funding helpline is necessary. This context helps to elevate this short above the other two.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 50

Happy Friday. I’m super glad to be free of the week is over. I’m know I’ll end up having to work some this weekend, but the relief is still palpable. I’m exhausted and once again getting this post up rather late, so will have to wait until the weekend begins in earnest for some more multi-film viewing. For tonight’s single viewing, I once again delved into the expansive library of films by Black directors available on criterion.

Losing Ground (1982, Dir. Kathleen Collins)

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I don’t honestly have a lot to say about today’s viewing. As underrepresented as Black people and women are in film making today, that fact that Kathleen Collins was able to make a feature film in 1982 was remarkable, but the gatekeeping in the system has hindered the film with its small budget devoid of a studio’s backing. The filming doesn’t look great, and the acting is rather stilted, but it’s doing its best with what it has.

While much of the film doesn’t work, I can see a lot of skill from Collins in both direction and writing. Using a student film as a metaphor for Sara (Secret Scott) and Victor (Bill Gunn)’s crumbling marriage works well and allows Sara’s frigid character to evolve. It also get’s her out of the house to allow Victor an excuse to revel in the sleaze that had been pretty clearly telegraphed. The fact that both leads are dealing with a midlife crisis in the midst of success in their chosen fields is another really interesting idea as opposed to more traditional midlife crisis stories.

Collins only made two films before she died of breast cancer at age 46. Given that her voice was the thing about Losing Ground that worked the best, it seems a shame that she wasn’t able to make another with more means. I know that she was also an acclaimed poet and playwright, but I would’ve loved to see her get behind the camera for a film with at least a modest budget.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 49

Today wasn’t as long an endeavor of the past few, so hopefully this gets posted a little earlier tonight. Today was the first day that I started getting worried about my ability to find enough films by Black directors to get me through the rest of the month. Between historical gatekeeping by Hollywood, and streaming services failure to have a well-stocked selection. Even in their Black History Month sections, most streaming services focus on films with Black leads not Black directors. But then Criterion tweeted out a long thread of their Black driven films, and I’m no longer worried about filling the rest of the month.

An Oversimplification of Her Beauty (2012, Dir. Terence Nance)

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Love is an emotion that is complex and often completely unknowable. Given that, it only makes sense that a film exploring that emotion would be an intertwined experimental film that blends narrative and autobiographical moments. This film meshed well with me much in the way that the works of Guy Maddin’s films work well for me. An Oversimplification of Her Beauty is a movie that I will bookmark for myself to revisit, but I’d have to know someone really well before I’d ever recommend it to them.

In his film, Terence Nance plays with standard film conventions. The film is composed of live action intertwined with animation of numerous different styles lends to the complexity of the subject matter. Text appears on screen throughout not as a narrative clarifier but often as a narrative replacement and frequently blurred out in the guise of maintaining identities. Even Nance’s portrayal as a version of himself creates an intentionally confused subject. An Oversimplification of Her Beauty plays with all of the strings that are supposed to make a movie to portray an unknowable subject.


Rather than stop at this one film, and get to bed a little bit earlier tonight, I jumped back into the Oscar short lists and started watching some of the documentary features that made the short list.

A Concerto Is a Conversation (2021, Dir. Kris Bowers and Ben Proudfoot)

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An unfortunate amount of documentary short viewing ends up being like A Concerto Is a Conversation. While there’s nothing wrong with the film, there’s nothing great about the film either. It’s a rather by the numbers 15-minute piece of a man, composer Kris Bowers, talking with his father about the hardships he went through to provide for his son.

Hysterical Girl (2020, Dir. Kate Novack)

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On the other hand, Hysterical Girl was everything that A Concerto Is a Conversation was not. Rather than in introspective piece, director Kate Novack asks us to reassess our thoughts on Sigmund Freud through the eyes of one of one of his patients who he assigned the term “hysterical” to (acted out by Tommy Vines). The film explores how the label of hysterical continues to plague women to this day through news clips to besmirched women. I don’t know that I’ve ever been ride or die for a documentary short film at Oscar time before, but there’s a first time for everything.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 48

Another late night of work, I didn’t log off for good until almost 9, so tonight will be another short one. On the bright side, it was a sunny day with the mountains in full view while I worked, and while I watched tonight’s movie, I had some kitties keeping me company. Their presence was quite welcome as my viewing tonight proved to be a rough one.

Little Woods (2019, Dir. Nia DaCosta)

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Little Woods is the true definition of a hidden gem. The film wasn’t even on my radar in 2019 (a year in which I saw 125 new releases), yet had I seen it, it would have easily made my year end list. The film stars Tessa Thompson as Ollie, a former drug dealer attempting to come clean and provider for her family. Her sister through adoption Deb (Lily James) is doing the same but finds herself in need of an abortion with no insurance to help. The two play off each other well approximating a sisterly relationship. They trade frustrations with between the two much like real sisters, but also are always there for one another.

Watching Little Woods, I kept thinking about 2010’s Winter’s Bone (Dir. Debra Granik). While not a perfect comp, Tessa Thompson was already a Marvel staring superstar compared to the unknown at the time Jennifer Lawrence, it’s still difficult to ignore the similarities. Both films put their gorgeous super stars in shapeless sweatshirts and grime from a hard day’s work. Devoid of the glitz and glam that both actresses experience in their tentpole blockbusters, these films allow the two to really flex their acting chops. This felt like a breakout role for Thompson. She may have been famous before this film, but in this low budget indie is the best she’s ever been. Watching her character risk her future to assure her sister’s stability was some of the best independent cinema of the past few years.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 47

It’s a late night tonight, so forgive me if today’s post is on the short side. We’re going live with large project at my day job next Monday, so I’m slammed with work as I attempt to get things done before our deadline. That’s left me working late and having to strain to sneak in movie watching and writing.

Judas and the Black Messiah (2021, Dir. Shaka King)

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So far this month, I’ve already watch two films about Malcolm X, so another film about the Black Panthers was well in my wheelhouse, and the new film by Shaka King may well be the best of the bunch. Instead of focusing on Malcolm, Judas and the Black Messiah turns its attention to Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) one of the leaders who took charge of a branch of the Black Panthers in X’s stead. Hampton’s legacy is told not through the eyes of the man himself but rather from a confidant and FBI informant Bill O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield).

While Kingsley Ben-Adir and Denzel Washington portrayed Malcolm as a man who exudes a well-honed charismatic mystic in their respective films, One Night in Miami and Malcom X, Kaluuya gets to show the other side of an activist leader. Fred Hampton was incredibly young, no older than 21 throughout the film, but filled with passion. This combination leads to a sloppier but arguably more dangerous character. Kaluuya understands that he’s playing someone performing far out of his depths, but arrogant enough to not see that. Likewise, Stanfield plays O’Neal as someone too young to really grasp the sleaze of informing on a movement. He just want’s to deliver agent Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons in a great supporting role) enough dirt to avoid prison while not risking any danger. Great performances throughout mix with an excellent screenplay by Will Berson and Shaka King as well as King’s direction result in a wonderful feature.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 46

Another weekend came and went far too quickly for me. I feel just as tired today as I did last week, but I’m hoping things will let up eventually so I can feel refreshed. In the meantime, I’m back to limited viewing and writing time during the week. On the bright side, I did find the time to plan my next week of Black director viewings, so finding an appropriate movie won’t be an additional stress. Speaking of which, tonight’s viewing is a classic blaxploitation flick.

Shaft (1971, Dir. Gordon Parks)

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Does this count as a blind spot movie? I know that everyone knows of Shaft and everyone knows the ‘Theme from Shaft’, but how many people who weren’t around when it came out have actually seen the film? Blind spot status aside, it was tonight’s viewing and a fun one at that. Richard Roundtree is a joy to watch as the brilliantly charismatic John Shaft. He exudes power and confidence all to a score that absolutely slaps.

Attempting to put Shaft in context 50 years after its creation is an interesting thought experiment. At the time, it was pretty clearly a power fantasy. Parks uses the character of Shaft, a Black man who both works with the cops and gets under their skin, as a sort of wish fulfillment. He possesses all the power of the white man, but with the soul and style of a Black man. 50 years later, Black people are just as oppressed by cops as they were in the 70s, but the power fantasy has changed. There’s an understanding that the power structure is broken; that even when a Black person attains the power of a cop, they just become a part of the problem. Shaft may have been a power fantasy in 1971, but in 2021 it’s more important to rebel against the system than to join it, even in one’s dreams.

A 2021 Film Journey: Day 45

It was another snow day in the Pacific Northwest, and today also happened to be a holiday. Stuck in doors, I again embraced the excuse to sit down and watch a couple movies. In honor of Valentines Day, I chose to fill my day with romance films. I may be a lonely, single cat lady, but my heart can still be warmed by a good romance film.

Love & Basketball (2000, Dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood)

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My first revisited director of Black History Month is Gina Prince-Bythewood for her debut feature Love & Basketball. The film also marks the second film of the month to star Regina Hall in her breakout role. And while I was somewhat ambivalent on The Old Guard and actively disliked Girls Trip, the combination of Prince-Bythewood and Hall brought the best out of each other. Love & Basketball was an absolute treasure.

What makes Love & Basketball work is Prince-Bythewood’s voice as a woman in the storytelling. The relationship between Lena (Hall) and Quincy (Omar Epps) falters while the two of them are in college because of a sexist double standard. Lena never once asked Quincy to put her before the game, but the second that Lena was unwilling to risk her spot on the team for him, his ego was bruised beyond repair and the relationship ended. Prince-Bythewood tells a story that’s brimming with romance but respects its female lead as more than a wife to be.

2046 (2004, Dir. Wong Kar-Wai)

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After Love & Basketball, I was in the mood to re-watch one of my all-time favorite romance films, Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love (2000). I’m doing my best to keep this blog focused on new to me watches only, but let it be known that In the Mood for Love is an absolute masterpiece, and easily one of the five best films of the 21st century. After that viewing, I was still in Wong Kar-Wai film, so I put on one of his I hadn’t seen before: 2046.

I think I loved 2046, but I’m not actually sure yet. Wong Kar-Wai took a more experimental approach to the creation of this film, and it worked well with his style. His films frequently feel like they exist outside of time, each interaction between characters being too important to exist in reality. 2046 uses this heightened approach to intercut scenes from the protagonist’s short stories. The science fiction of these stories blends with the rest of the movie’s hopeless romance to create a film that is both perplexing and brilliant.