Staff Writer; Carla Shaw

This Queen speaks on education, technology, relationships, music, entertainment, and day to day life. Some conversations center around family, growth, or what is happening inside the community, while others simply reflect on the world people are trying to navigate every day.

She can be reached at; CarlaS@Akiit.com.

Many of the anti “Michael” the film critics are ticked off because it paints a way too sympathetic Michael, and skirts the damaging claims of child molestation, and his long drawn out well-documented legal woes. The fact that the film stopped in 1988 and could not even if there was intent cover the legal charges and allegations because of legal prohibitions didn’t stop the carping.

The film gives huge nod to his conflict with his tyrannical, all controlling father. But for the most part it’s a knockout music and entertainment film.

Still, the film does prompt another look at Michael the man, and yes, the controversy. The instant a promotional screening at the Sundance Film festival of an earlier Jackson film,  Leaving Neverland was announced in early 2019, the Jackson family loudly screamed foul. The family called the film a lie. The “lie” was a fresh claim that Jackson molested two young boys. Jackson’s defenders, along with the family, went down a checklist of facts about the pair that made their decades later claim of abuse seem the “lie” that the family charged it was.

However, the protests of Jackson’s family were maligned bumped up against some bitter facts. One was that it’s not legally possible to sue, shame or slander a dead man. Another was that Jackson was that dead man and he couldn’t speak or fight back.”

The bitterest fact of all, though, was that during Jackson’s life, and in the years after his death in June 2009, legions never stopped believing that Jackson was indeed the child molester that the pair claimed they were victims of. This made it easy to hype the documentary, and their subsequent appearance on a panel of sexual abuse survivors on an Oprah special, made the pair credible, and ensure that the taint on Jackson as child molester would remain firmly emblazoned on his name, dead or not.

The truth is that Jackson has always remained an inviting target of both fascination, speculation, and outright attack in death as in life. While the buzz and controversy around the documentary Leaving Neverland  and to a lesser extent “Michael” would come and go, the controversy around Jackson will not.

The Jackson name and the issue of child molestation would hang heavily as a damning indictment that feeds the gossip mills and gives an arsenal of ammunition to Jackson detractors. This is not a small point. The child molester claim doesn’t rest on Jackson’s trial and clean acquittal on multiple child abuse charges. The claim of Jackson as child molester never hinged as much on the allegations as on the prurient fascination with a celebrity that in life and death took on preternatural stature.

This fascination in turn was fertile ground for any salacious, titillating, morsel of gossip, no matter how disgusting. There’s still more to the latest Jackson beatdown.

No charge stirs more disgust, revulsion, and pricks more emotional hot buttons than the charge of child molestation. The accusation stamps the Scarlet letter of doubt, suspicion, shame, and guilt on the accused. The accused can never fully expunge it.

There is simply no defense against it. Under the hyper intense media glare and spotlight that Jackson constantly in life remained under, the allegation no matter how bogus would have been endless fodder for the public gossip mill. This would have wreaked irreparable damage to Jackson’s ever shifting musical career and personal life.

Many will thrill at the phenomenal, patented Jackson song and especially dance movements, as I did, in the film, “Michael..” They will applaud the sterling performance of Jaafar Jackson as Michael, as I do. However, that won’t quiet the whispers, doubts, and hostility that the name Michael Jackson still raises with many. No film no matter how entertaining on Jackson will ever silence that.

Columnist; Earl Ofari Hutchinson

One can visit this brother online over at; TheHutchinson Report.

With this week’s passing of Frankie Beverly, his impact on Houston, the South, and the world has become crystal clear. We have all become accustomed to publicly displaying our grief when we lose one of our icons. The obligatory “this one hurts,” on social media has become an overused, common refrain. But honestly and at the risk of sounding cliché, for me, this one hurts.

To best explain what Frankie Beverly meant to many of us, I will explain what he and his music have meant to me. It is almost reflexive to think of Frankie in relation to family reunions, card parties, and festive concerts where thousands of people knew every word to every song and sang every note louder and more passionately than any one person ever could, including Frankie himself. Many people I know have seen Maze at least a half dozen times as it was an annual rite of passage for decades. To be in an audience of 10,000, mostly black folks, of all ages, singing “Joy & Pain” to the top of your lungs is an experience of unity and community that is joyful, rare, and indescribable. There simply isn’t anything like it.

Frankie Beverly. Credit: Screenshot But for me and many others, Frankie’s music meant so much more than just the parties and concerts. Frankie Beverly was the voice of my soundtrack as a young teenager navigating the emotions of a first crush. His songs were the guidance when figuring out how to say what I felt in ways that my words alone could not explain. His songs helped me to understand that relationships are not easy but oh so worth pursuing.

When Frankie sang, “We got our love and no matter how it’s said or done…we are one,” it put all the strife and bickering in perspective. When Frankie passionately proclaimed, “You know there is nothin’, nothin’, nothin’ I would not do, before I let you go!” I had asked, myself, have I tried hard enough? And when Frankie melodically bared his soul singing, “And you’ve given me a reason…you’ve given me a reason to love one more time,” I felt romantic hope and redemption despite never losing love before in my life.

But there is even more. Frankie’s music offered reflection with songs like “Golden Time of Day” and the need for universal love with “We Need Love to Live” and “Happy Feelin’s.” I could go on and on and never truly capture what his rich, beautiful, honest voice did as it conveyed what I felt. What you felt. What we feel!

The bottom line is that he had a long, glowing career of art that did what art is designed to do, move us. His songs were personal and universal at the same time. His voice offered intimacy and community all at once. The music of Maze and the voice of Frankie Beverly is still evolving as I have navigate my way through relationships, love and life. He somehow knew how I felt then and helps me understand what I feel even now. With him, it is not just the words. It is not just the melody. It is the real, raw emotion that tapped into something in all of us.

As the years go on and the long list of important icons in our lives dwindle, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. I am grateful to have had the relationship with Frankie Beverly’s music that I have had. With so many incredible artists and so much great music, Maze featuring Frankie Beverly is still a nostalgic refuge to enjoy a road trip, a gathering with friends and family or alone with my favorite beverage reflecting on the past. But in his own words, why do the things that make us happy, make us sad…seems to me it’s like joy and pain, sunshine and rain. Rest in peace Frankie.

Columnist: Devin Wade

Official website; https://Twitter.com/wadesword

Bringing the ‘90s back is hard work. So hard this new House Party reboot only gets half the job done. But when it’s on, it’s on.

For those who were in a drug induced comma during 1990 (you know who you are), the duo Kid ‘n Play (Christopher Reid and Christopher Martin) threw a House Party that brought hip hop joy to the masses. How popular was it? Three more HP films followed. The event planners behind this ’23 party remix are equally ambitious. They hired Grammy-winning music director Calmatic (real name Charles Kid II, winner Best Music Video for Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road”) to helm a project written by Atlanta co-writers Jamal Olori & Stephen Glover. The pedigree is there, what about the attention to details?

Damon (Tosin Cole, Till) and Kevin (Jacob Latimore (The Chi) have been friends since childhood and losers forever. In Los Angeles, you’re either rich or poor, and these struggling party promoters are broke bros. Their daytime grind is working for a house cleaning company. Swabbing toilets. sweeping up, dusting, throwing out the garbage… They dream big, but their game is small.

Kev is desperate to pay for his young daughter’s tuition and his baby moma pressures him to come up with $10K. Typically, Damon (pretentiously pronounced da-MON) finds ways to solve Kev’s problems, but most often gets him into more trouble. His not-so-smart idea this time? Why don’t they throw a big, money-making, superstar-invited house party in the mansion they’re currently cleaning? The owner will be gone for two weeks, they’ll hire security, rope-off the fancy rooms and clean up. What could go wrong? For starters, the villa belongs to LeBron James—and his ego. Plus, someone could call the cops. Right?

The premise is ripe for comedy. The script sets the stage: challenges, solutions and worst possible outcomes. Quirky hip-hop characters are assembled, and they all blossom. Kev’s lost love Venus (Karen Obilom, Doom Patrol) is his boss at the cleaning service, and their sexual tension is burning hot. Her gal pal Mika (Shakira Ja’nai Paye), a modern, quintessential soul sister (colored hair, fake eyelashes, long fancy fingernails), is onboard.

Add in a crazed DJ (comedian D.C. Young Fly), a spiritual advisor with ties to the Illuminati named Cudi (Scott Mescudi, a.k.a. Kid Cudi) and a nosy white neighbor (Andrew Santino) with a roaming pet Koala bear and the casting is just crazed. Star-studded cameos (Mya, L.A. Lakers’ Anthony Davis, Lil Wayne, Snoop Dogg, Odell Beckham Jr.) are icing on the cake.

All the good ingredients are in place. So, what’s the rub? At 1h 40m the footage is too long. Too many lapses and dead spots. Too many scenes needed to be clipped to their core (editor Matthew Barbato, Dave). In a beginning sequence, three rival menacing party promoters (Rotimi, Allen Maldonado, Melvin Gregg) harass and beat up the boys. They’re silly, goofy antagonists, but their over-extended improv antics kill momentum and needed to be trimmed. Anyone who’s seen the perfectly timed HP trailer will grow impatient. Anyone who remembers the tightly paced Girls Trip knows that short, succinct scenes are key.

On the other hand, the screenplay and direction have their moments. The dialogue can be hysterical, especially when it’s delivered by actors who go for it. E.g., Damon’s Aunt Jean (Renata Walsh) bitches about his dirty room: “Clean up this room. It smells like ass and onions in here… don’t make me get my gun!”

Calmatic is successful with sight gags, physical pranks and the dance offs in party scenes. Though the crux of the movie takes place at LeBron’s place, the most outrageous wacky stuff comes in a sequence where Cudi takes the duo to an underground, secret-society world populated by weird Caligula-looking people. The debauchery, depravity and horrific violence on view are so funny viewers will lose their lunch, spill their drinks or gag on their weed. That’s the frustration with this update. It could have been better, tighter, funnier and even more frenzied.

Problems with the script and direction aside, the production team is stellar. The colors pop (art director Frances Lynn Hernandez), the sets—from Damon’s stanky room to LeBron’s trophy man cave—greatly reflect Hollywood’s rags or riches stories (production designer Scott Falconer; set decorators Laura Harper and Maya Levy). The clothes are ghetto hip, star chaser flashy or glamorous according to the characters (costumes by Derica Cole Washington, Zola). Audiences will live for the music (music supervisor Keir Lehman, Queen &Slim; composer Oak Felder The United States vs. Billie Holiday). And it’s all perfectly lit and shot (cinematographer Andrew Huebscher).

Cole and Latimore fit together well and if their dialogue was shorter, they’d shine brighter. Obilom, Paye, Cudi and Santino make their marks and claim their turf too. Hard to believe LeBron James can hold down his part of the screen, but he does.

Overall, this movie knows how to talk to its demographics (young, urban and don’t give a —-). If first-time feature film director Calmatic, the screenwriters and producers (including James) learn from their mistakes and achievements, audiences will R.S.V.P. to future House Parties—even if they’re on streaming services and not in theaters.

In truth, this new HP didn’t bring back the ‘90s. It’s trying to funk up the 2020s!

In theaters January 13^th.

Trailer: 

Columnist; Dwight Brown

Visit NNPA News Wire Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.

It’s an illusion. When actress Naomi Ackie stands with her back to the camera, you stare at her clothes, wigs, physique and mannerisms and get tricked into thinking that’s Whitney Houston. Then she turns around, and it’s not. It’s a recurring mirage. A string of images that give Houston’s fans something to cling to.

Veteran record executive Clive Davis met with screenwriter Anthony McCarten (Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody), enlisted the aid of Gary and Pat Houston (Houston’s brother and sister-in-law) and this production evolved. Davis knew the singer’s musical feats; her family understood her personal story and McCarten created a script that shows the songstress’ highs, lows and indelible performances.

In the 1980s, a young Whitney (Ackie) sings backup for her mom Cissy Houston (Tamara Tunie) at the NYC nightclub Sweetwater’s. Davis (Stanley Tucci), an exec at Arista Records, is impressed and signs her. A stunning debut performance on the Merv Griffin Show introduces Houston to throngs of viewers. Her first album in 1985, Whitney Houston, sells millions and its #1 hit single “Saving All My Love For You” launches her recording career. International world tours, Grammy Awards and film roles (The Bodyguard) propel her into stardom.

Fame comes with bouts of drug abuse, a troubled marriage to Bobby Brown (Aston Sanders, Moonlight) and a strained relationship with her father/manager John (Clarke Peters). Even a gossiped about relationship with friend/lover/assistant/creative director Robyn (Nafessa Williams) is aired. Little is left unsaid or unsung.

Kasi Lemmons’ (Harriet) style of direction tends to be thorough and straightforward. The footage is direct, not stylish and tightly edited (Daysha Broadway, The Forty-One-Year-Old Version). Viewers may wonder if the film would have been more kinetic if a director with a music video background had taken the reigns. It’s a debate worth having, as the film feels like a mix of staid TV movie, theatrical film and streaming production elements. Another worthy discussion is whether this project should have been a mini-series instead of a feature. That said, Lemmons gets the job done, her way.

Within the boundaries of the creative choices, the tech team recreates Houston’s most iconic videos with perfect lighting, composition and cinematography (Barry Ackroyd, Jason Bourne). The production design (Gerald Sullivan), makeup (Jackie Aguece), art direction (David Offner) and costumes (Charles Antoinette Jones) are solid too. Reconstructed shoots of “I Wanna Dance…,” “I Will Always Love You” and “How Will I Know” mirror the originals.

It’s all very entertaining, though not as gritty as one might hope. Some scenes feel melodramatic, like parts of Starz’s “Power”. E.g., Whitney confronts her duplicitous father. Dad: “I’m the manger here.” Whitney: “I know you are, you work for me!” Fortunately, emotions get a bit rawer and deeper when Bobby and Whitney have their volatile clashes.

Also, though the dialogue is serviceable, it isn’t what it could be. When Whitney says: “I’m tired of being the good girl,” it feels like the words of a screenwriter. As a tough Jersey girl, wouldn’t she have said something saltier? Like: “Why do I always have to be the mother—–g good girl?”

Ackie reimagines the icon deftly with her very thoughtful interpretation. She walks, talks and lip-synchs her way through a 2h 26m homage, never letting the audience down. She’s gleeful, hopeful and wallowing in mega-stardom one minute. Then doing drugs, drinking and leading a low life the next. You never question Ackie’s performance. Nor that of Tucci as Davis or Tunie as Cissy.

If Whitney Houston fans long to feel her essence again, this movie and its illusions gives them a chance. But not like an extraordinary biofilm. More like a condensed diary with lots of wonderful music.

In theaters now.

Trailer:

Columnist; Dwight Brown

Visit NNPA News Wire Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.

Gregory’s point was that suicide was an alien concept to Blacks. Despite all the economic, political, social, and personal traumas that Blacks daily suffer due to racism and social and economic injustice and their perennial outcast status in American society, they don’t take their own lives.

Gregory always got laughter and knowing acknowledgement among many Blacks of the alleged truth of this joking observation about suicide. The dual message was that suicide was a “white thing” and that Blacks had developed a tougher, inner shell than whites to ward off the demons that drive a person to take their own life.

Gregory’s joke perpetuated a myth when he popularized it in the 1960s. It’s even more of a myth today. The suicide of Stephen Boss, popularly known as tWitch, drove that point home with a horrid vengeance. The popular dancer-entertainer at first glance seemed to fit all the characteristics that would make one think he’d be the last person to take their life. He was young, talented, had gotten many accolades in the entertainment world, had a stable marriage and family life, was financially comfortable and seemed politically and socially well-grounded. So, what would possess him to check into a motel, leave a note telling of challenges, and then proceed to put a gun to his head and take his life?

The speculation about why is endless. But who can for certain really say why? Who can say why more, particularly young African American males such as Boss, are driven to the extreme step of taking their own lives? We know that many more of them that take that extreme step than commonly thought.

The statistics on Black suicides tell the grim story. According to a 2021 study from the journal, JAMA, Black males reportedly had a nearly eighty percent increase in suicide attempts, the highest of any race in the study.  There’s more. Black deaths of where this no listed specific cause is much more likely than that of whites to be lumped into the category of “undetermined.” Even more disconcerting is the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s report on suicides in 2021. It noted a jump in Black suicides, but some experts charged that even this increase badly undercounted the actual increase.

In the wake of the suicide of tWitch a litany of reasons were offered as to why Blacks kill themselves. The most common reasons cited are that Blacks, particularly younger Black males, are driven to despair by the endless procession of racist abuse, violence, stress, the intense racial discrimination slights, insults, and exclusion they suffer. They are less likely to seek or even have access to mental health care, counseling and treatment for the myriad mental and physical challenges and stresses they are bombarded with.

This underscores the point why Black suicides often fly under the medical and public radar scope. One study found that the language most often associated with suicide; namely intense depression and anxiety were routinely cited as causal reasons for whites who kill themselves but not for Blacks. Therefore, there’s the self-perpetuating impression that depression, anxiety, and other traumas that Blacks suffer are minimal to non-existent.

At the very least when the glaring signs are apparent that those traumas are there, they are more likely to be missed or ignored. This is a sure-fire prescription that an individual who desperately needs intervention will plummet through the mental health care cracks. That individual then becomes a prime candidate to take their own life from the sense of alienation, hopelessness, and despondency.

Researchers also found that the narratives on real or suspected Black suicides were far more likely to use words and phrases such as “questionable,” “nothing” and “no further details.” This further minimized both the impact and the numbers of Black suicides. In trying to understand why Blacks such as tWitch commit suicide, a suicide note is the prime evidence sought and scrutinized. However, again there’s a disparity between whites and Blacks who commit suicide. Whites are more likely to leave a note than Blacks. tWitch was an exception. He did leave a note.

There’s also less likelihood that medical researchers who examine a possible suicide will do extensive interviews with family members or closely scrutinize prior medical records of a Black suicide victim to determine if it was a suicide and why.

The intense public and media focus on tWitch’s suicide renewed the challenge to medical professionals and public agencies to be on the alert for the signs among Blacks of suicide risk. Then devote more resources to the access and promotion of suicide prevention task forces, hotlines, and treatment centers. This may or may not have save a tWitch. But this could well save another potential tWitch.

Columnist; Earl Ofari Hutchinson

One can visit this brother online over at; TheHutchinson Report.

In this article, we’ll discuss some of the benefits of using stock music in your videos, as well as how to access it and use it effectively.

What is Stock Music?

Stock music is pre-recorded music that is available for use in videos, and there are several different sources where you can find it. Generally, stock music is not created specifically for video production but is instead purchased from a library of pre-recorded tracks. This means that you can access a wide variety of music styles and genres, as well as custom-made pieces that are often available for an additional fee.

Benefits of Using Stock Music

Using stock music in video production can be beneficial for several reasons. First and foremost, it is affordable and easy to access. You can often find the perfect piece of music without spending too much money or having to search extensively. Additionally, stock music typically has all of the necessary rights associated with it so you won’t have to worry about copyright issues. Finally, stock music often comes with video editing software, which makes it easy to match the music to your video content.

How to Access Stock Music

Accessing stock music is relatively straightforward and can be done in a few ways. You can search for and purchase stock music from various websites or libraries. Additionally, many video editing software packages offer access to stock music as part of their services.

A good thing about stock music is that there is plenty of it around to suit all musical tastes. It can be geared to a particular product being sold or simply be a catchy tune that gets noticed. Very often the music will match in some way the message or visual aspect of production. It is that melding of the two together that can be so effective in terms of a marketing campaign.

Tips for Using Stock Music

When it comes to using stock music in video production, there are a few key tips that you should keep in mind. First, make sure to read the licensing agreement associated with any stock music you purchase or download. This will help you understand exactly what you can and cannot do with the music, as well as any restrictions that may be in place. Additionally, it’s important to make sure that the music fits with the video content and tone of your video. Try to select pieces that complement the visuals and add something extra to your video without overpowering it.

The Many Benefits of Choosing the Right Stock Music

The benefits of finding the right stock music are that your video can take off on its social media platform, perhaps Facebook, YouTube, or on a Podcast. We can make that impact as a business that establishes our brand and video content. It is a great way to ensure video production success and to make sure that the video truly stands out from the crowd!

Stock music can be a great option for video production. It’s affordable, accessible, and has all of the necessary rights associated with it. All you need is a good ear for picking the right tune. They are all there for the taking.

Staff Writer; Bobby Love

Most of us got it.

“Black Lives Matter” has been used to indoctrinate children, scatter anti-racist eggshells around every workplace, and threaten people’s jobs, livelihoods, and their lives.   Under the banner of Black Lives Matter, “protesters” have wrecked restaurants, businesses, government buildings, public monuments, and homes.  It’s given race hustlers a license to ruin sports, ruin entertainment, ruin business, ruin commercials, ruin the military, ruin law enforcement, and ruin race relations.   Black Lives Matter has been emblazoned on T-Shirts and all sorts of paraphernalia.  It’s been painted on streets, painted on pro football fields and basketball courts.  It’s been used to rewrite history, topple statues, rename schools and pro sports teams; and its flag has been flown at stores, in classrooms, over government buildings, even over embassies around the globe.

Wearing a shirt that reads “White Lives Matter” made the obvious statement that it’s all been a bit much. It was long overdue, but not nearly enough to shift things back into balance.

Yet, after all we now know about the corruption of the Black Lives Matter organization, and the movement’s exaggerated grievances (even Sharon Osborne asked for her $900,000 back), the celebrity class inside the squeaky cancel culture machinery called what West did “offensive,” “dangerous,” “pure violence,” and “indefensible behavior.”

Some of the worst attacks came from rich, black celebrities who are expected to publicly whip one of their strays.  Blinded by the limelight, by accolades from the “equity” industry, and by an extreme fear of being labeled as sellouts, these celebrities enslave themselves to a black metaverse that is completely detached from reality.

Vogue editor Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, with a net worth around $1.25 million, called it “hugely irresponsible,” and wrote, there was “no art here.”

“It didn’t land and it was deeply offensive, violent, and dangerous,” Karefa-Johnson tweeted.

Temple University professor Lamont Hill, net worth around $1 million, called West’s decision to wear the shirt “disgusting, dangerous, and irresponsible.”

Author Jemele Hill, net worth about $4 million, called West’s shirt-wearing a “dangerously dumb message to send for someone with his massive platform.”

Van Lathan, a producer and media personality with a net worth of about $1.5 million, tweeted that the slogan was a “white supremacist notion.”

“We don’t need a reminder of the worth of white lives,” Lathan wrote.  “America is a shrine to the worth of white people. … The notion that it ALWAYS has to be about white people in America is incredibly frustrating, emotionally draining, and the whole problem.”

Writer Meecham Meriweather, with a net worth approaching $1 million, wrote that Kanye “doesn’t care about the black community,” something West blurted about George W. Bush after Hurricane Katrina.

Jaden Smith, Will’s son, net worth around $8 million, attended the show and walked out early, and later tweeted three words: “Black Lives Matter,” a tweet that rewarded him with tens of thousands of retweets and a quarter of million “likes,” among them Kendall Jenner.

Sean “P. Diddy” Combs, net worth approaching $1 billion, expressed reluctance to address “everything in the world that’s going on,” but was compelled to post an Instagram video about West’s shirt to his 19 million followers.

“Right now, all America has planned for us is poverty, incarceration, and death,” he said.  “So, before I could get to any other lives matter, which all lives matter … that black lives matter, don’t play with it.   Don’t wear the shirt.  Don’t buy the shirt.  Don’t play with the shirt.  It’s not a joke.”

What planet do these people live on?

As imaginary grievances loop inside their brains, the problems in lagging black communities have become so severe that they’re spilling out everywhere.  It’s obvious.  Black crime is more random, more violent, and more vicious.  There are more black fathers on TV commercials than in some neighborhoods.  And somehow, morbid rap, twerking, and cop hatred has become ritualized as authentic black culture.

It’s not enough that these people choose to lie incessantly about the things we see right in front of our faces, but they use ridicule, ostracism, even violence to pressure others to lie, too.

“[People with influence] have people that around them at all times, telling them what to be afraid of,” West told Carlson. “I think I started to really feel this need to express myself on another level when Trump was running for office and I liked him.  My so-called friends-slash-handlers around me told me if I said that I liked Trump that my career would be over, that my life would be over.  They said stuff like, ‘People get killed for wearing a hat like that.’ They threatened my life.  They basically said that I would be I killed for wearing the hat.”

West said he got a call the night before Tucker’s interview from someone who threatened that anyone wearing a White Lives Matter shirt would be “greenlit” – a prison term that refers to “shanking” a person in the shower so he bleeds out before guards even notice he’s missing.

West, worth $6.6 billion according to Bloomberg, has said a lot of dumb stuff over the years, but somewhere between Hurricanes Katrina and Ian, he’s become more sensible – more determined to say the obvious at a time when his critics are more determined to ignore it.  It’s refreshing.

For this, if nothing else, West deserves great credit – although, in the grand scheme of things in America since 2020, the gesture was more “too little, too late” than “better late than never,” especially for people who’ve literally died because of this stuff.

And at a time when so many obvious things are being lied about – border security, defunding the police, climate change, COVID-19, vaccine injuries, “the most secure election in American history,” men have babies, zero inflation, and “abortion is a woman’s reproductive rights,” – we’re going to need a whole lot more than “just a black man stating the obvious” to un-ring these bells.

Columnist; Will Alexander

Official website; http://twitter.com/walexander59

Writer/director Tyler Perry had never had a movie programed at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival. He said as much on the night of his latest film’s premiere. On stage he revealed that the script was written 27-years ago, and he was proud to have A Jazzman’s Blues open at TIFF. The audience seemed attentive but reserved. Post screening, the audience gave the film, cast and him a standing ovation. He made them see horrors and feel love. Then Ruth B., the Canadian woman who composed and sings the film’s title song, appeared on stage. Violinists played behind her as she sang the melancholic “Paper Airplanes.” Everyone was moved.

 “I need you to be happy cause we can’t be sad together,” says the femme fatale in this lovelorn melodrama. Yet sadness overwhelms any glee and romance in this southern ode to the ills of racism and the grief it causes. To understand the magnitude of the story, audiences must pay attention to the script’s bookend plot devices.

In 1987, Hattie Mae, an older Black woman, views Georgia’s white, racist state attorney general as he spews hate on TV. She walks to his office, barges in and hands the AG a stack of letters. He wants to know why she’s leaving him the missives. But as he reads them, he is engrossed in the story they tell about an ill-fated romance and a gruesome murder dating back to the ’40s. When he’s done, he’s shocked personally beyond words. Why? That’s the crux of the film.

With echoes of authors Alice Walker, Tony Morrison and Bernice McFadden, Perry’s very engaging script meticulously sets the characters, location, racial tensions and star-crossed love that so reflects the 1940s. The atmosphere is so southern and country you can almost feel the warm breeze, smell the oak trees and feel the sun on your skin.

Bayou (Joshua Boone), a young innocent sepia-skinned 17-year-old, falls in love with a very light skinned teen named Leanne (Solea Pfeiffer), who lives with her abusive grandfather. The old man won’t let the lover boy near his granddaughter. But the two find a unique way to meet. A relationship grows. It brings them together and splits them apart.

Bayou’s nurturing mother (Amirah Vann), a jealous older brother (Austin Scott), Leanne’s scoundrel of a mom (Lana Young) and white racists shape his life and their love. A budding career as a jazz singer brings him stardom. Leanne becomes a calculating gold-digger, which brings her angst and heartache. The mix of light musical moments and dark drama would challenge many directors. But Perry thoughtfully pulls those contrasting elements together as if he was blending the essences of Cotton Club and Mudbound.

The very talented and extremely photogenic primary cast are augmented by skilled actors: Austin Scott, Milauna Jemai Jackson, Brent Antonello, Brad Benedict, Kario Marcel, Lana Young and Ryan Eggold, Their characters weave in and out of evocative sets, locations and situations (Sharon Busse, production designer). Kisses, fights, singing, dancing and family life are artfully captured by cinematographer Brett Pawlak. Happy and sad moments are blanketed by Terence Blanchard’s songs and Aaron Zigman’s music. All of it is edited together like scenes from an old ‘40s movie by Maysie Hoy.

Perry has accomplished tonally, artistically and dramatically all he needed to do with this rich melodrama. No wrinkles. No mistakes. It’s as if he wanted to tuck his Madea madness away and become an auteur. Is this a fleeting moment or a new direction?

If viewers pay attention to the plot pieces and verbal and visual clues, by the time the AG figures out what happened, their mouths will drop. The tragedy on view, which Perry concocted, will leave them with mixed, melancholic emotions and an anger for the Confederate flag that waves towards the end of the film as a sign of times gone by that should never come again.

As the final credits roll and viewers gather their thoughts, the heartbreaking, Oscar®-caliber song “Paper Airplanes” is sung. “You are the song that I long to hear once more…”

It’s a beautiful sadness. Something like what a jazzman’s blues might be. A feeling that expresses the deepest most somber emotions.

On Netflix September 23^rd, 2022. Trailer: 

For more information about the Toronto International Film Festival go to https://tiff.net/. 

Columnist; Dwight Brown

Visit NNPA News Wire Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.

Baz Luhrmann photobombs this Elvis portrait with over-extravagant filmmaking that dwarfs the iconic rock and roller. And that ain’t easy.

The script, cowritten by Luhrmann, Sam Bromell and Craig Pearce (Moulin Rouge! and Romeo + Juliet), puts it all out there. Ambitious singer borrows heavily from R&B music, fuses it with up-tempo rock and twangy country and fame beyond words follows. Surprisingly, the doorway into the superstar’s life story isn’t a first-person accounting or even his wife’s perspective. Instead, it’s the recollections of his embittered, smarmy former manager, Colonel Tom Parker: “I gave the world Elvis Presley.”  Actually, he exploited Elvis and making the villainous Parker fascinating for 2h 39min is an unrealistic task that’s been passed on to Tom Hanks.

With prosthetics and a fat suit, Hank still doesn’t look like Parker. With an affected Euro trash accent, he doesn’t sound like the Netherlands-born manager either. In fact, Hanks’ portrayal is so annoying it borders on caricature. The only time the actor seems to get a grip on Parker is towards the film’s end. That’s when Luhrmann’s bombardment of split screen effects and image collages subside, and the greedy carnival barker and overworked music star confront each other.

Yes, the constant barrage of kaleidoscope filmmaking takes away from the story. That said, most of the excessive visuals are eye-catching from a tech standpoint. Production design (Catherine Martin and Karen Murphy), art direction (Damien Drew), set decoration (Shaun Barry, Beverley Dunn and Daniel Reader) and costume design (Catherine Martin) are music video quality. The cinematography (Mandy Walker) captures every piece of stylized clothing, studio interior, concert venue and lavish hairdo with crisp colors, intriguing composition and perfect framing. Also, pity the film was shot in Australia and not Memphis, Vegas or the deep south. Doing so might have added much needed authenticity.

For those not familiar with Elvis the Pelvis (Austin Butler): Born 1935 in Tupelo, MS and raised in Memphis, TN. His alcoholic mom Gladys (Helen Thomson) was supportive, and Dad Vernon (Richard Roxburgh Moulin Rouge!) became his manager. The Svengali Parker courted the singer/acoustic guitar player after Elvis’s first hit on Sun Records, “That’s All Right.” The script takes liberties at will: e.g., Parker cementing a deal to manage Elvis at an amusement park didn’t really happen.

The ‘50s, ‘60s’and ‘70s roll by. Presley is drafted into the army in 1958, meets a 14-year-old named Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge), marries her when she becomes 21 and they live at his Graceland Estate. Hip-swinging hits (“Hound Dog”), romantic ballads (“Love Me Tender”), hard rockers (“Jailhouse Rock”) and other million-selling records bring him acclaim and riches. A movie career (King Creole, Blue Hawaii) ensues. Prescription drug abuse too, unraveling his stellar career and pulling the Vegas headliner into a downward spiral.

The black singers who influenced Presley are depicted in cameo roles: Willie Mae “Big Momma” Thornton (Shonka Dukureh), Little Richard (Alton Mason), Sister Rosetta Tharpe (Yola) and BB King (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). Scenes of Elvis cavorting in black neighborhoods, churches and dance clubs indicate where Elvis caught his “R&B/Blues” fever.

According to this script, no one Black ever confronted Presley about him dipping into their music, and everything was hunky dory. That seems a bit too rosy. It’s doubtful there wasn’t some kind of friction, the kind of drama that could cut through the movie’s fluff. Segregation is present. The groundbreaking mixing of the races at concerts is too. Why not show the difficulties Presley experienced with other musicians? Show how the Justin Bieber of that generation moved through his world.

The principle cast, minus Hanks, is on target. Thomson, Roxburgh and DeJonge as mom, dad and Priscilla are fine. Supporting characters too: Harrison Jr. as King and David Wenham as Elvis’s mentor Hank Snow, a Grand Old Opry country star. Fate and genes made Austin Butler perfect for the job as Elvis. He looks, growls, bumps and grinds like the real deal. The hair, eyes and attitude are there, though Luhrmann, the Phil Spector of the movie industry, seems to use Butler more as a GQ model than an actor in his “wall of filmmaking.” Also, everything would be more convincing if the lip singing cast had sung live (a la Les Misérables).

There are many points when this music bio could have ended. It’s another example of the kind of excess that may make audiences wish that someone had thrown Luhrmann and editors Matt Villa and Jonathan Redmond out of the editing room and judiciously cut 10-15 minutes of fat. Or that someone had a heart to heart with visual effects supervisor Thomas Wood and said: “No, this is too much.”

The bio/film Bohemian Rhapsody got the drama/art balance right and trusted the lead actor Rami Malek to bring Freddie Mercury to life. Rocketman told Elton John’s life story with evocative visual effects that didn’t ruin anything. Luhrmann’s artistic choices during his far superior Romeo + Juliet shows he can make an elaborate drama that doesn’t go overboard.

Scenery-chewing craftsmanship hogs the screen and overshadows Elvis’s spirit. But for fans who want a glimpse of their rock and roll hero, this will have to suffice.

Trailer: 

Columnist; Dwight Brown

Official website; http://DwightBrownInk.com