Trickster that it is, ‘coming-of-age’ will not be ignored. I remember when the trickster tapped my dad, and he answered by teaching me how to drive a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle. “Equal distribution … Equal distribution,” he chanted as I, in herky-jerky frustration, tried to shift the gears and push in the clutch. To this day, I only will drive a manual transmission in honor of my dad and, even more notable, his courage.

In his heart-rending film short ‘Barbasol’, independent film director Ralph K. Scott uses the tradition of shaving to pay homage to his own memory of his father. Scott knows all too well that it takes a brave soul to ‘talk about’ a parent in a public venue and, more onerous, to choose what to portray of him onscreen. He says,

I wasn’t sure how deep I should go into my own life experience with telling the story about my father. He would yell at the drop of a hat, and that existence kept me and my sisters on edge. I did not, however, want to portray him as an ogre; there were gentle times.

Scott finds his mettle in ‘Barbasol’, a wonderfully passionate film that is mindful of its autobiographical element. “My father never really treated my mother with any harshness,” he remembers, “it was like she had a grip on his anger.” This is the memory he weaves into the story. For 19 minutes, Scott explores two African American parents, Harper (Stephen Hill) and Grace (Ebbe Bassey) Collins, who are cast into a domestic crisis when ‘coming-of-age’ calls on them. This ritual usually is a child’s transition into young adulthood, and the parent and/or guardian guides the initiate into the next phase. Scott, however, is to be applauded for a savvy filmic twist: the director focuses on Harper and takes him on a journey from father to daddy – the latter signifying the compassionate teacher. Harper has difficulty talking to his son, Grant (Elijah Williams) yet rests comfortably in the verbal synergy enjoyed by him and Grace. More laudable, Scott appoints Grace, (played with sharp patience by Bassey) to guide Harper and Grant during this crucial turning point. Their quiet scuffle points up the respect husband and wife have for their turn at coming-of-age. Barbasol, the soft moisturizing beard buster of shaving creams, serves as the tool to move things along.

Practically every scene in ‘Barbasol’ is a pressure cooker of change, and writer/producer Kiara Jones meticulously charts the strains running through the Collins household. She remarks,

there is no ticking time bomb in this film but I wanted to parlay the sense of urgency for this family. It is now or never, and I have them ask the unspoken question: Are we going to repeat the same things or are we going to work on this urgent call?

A game of contrasts comes to relief as each character wrestles to find answers. Harper barks orders to his son (“Boy! Get Up! Didn’t you hear me??”), but listens affectionately to Grace’s subtle warm plea (“Harper, honey, [Grant] just wants you to like him. It’s not too late.”); the latter sealed with a kiss. Harper’s father is Ed ‘Super Chief’ Collins (played with unfettered zeal by William Jay Marshall). Once a decorated police chief of 25 years, Super Chief now is a snarly curmudgeon throwing insults to Harper and Grant from a wheelchair (“what the hell you standing there with your thumb up your ass for!?”). Father and son scramble to please the Super Chief.

Cinematographer Eric Branco masterfully envisions the tenuity of marital protocol Grace and Harper must handle at this juncture in their marriage. His establishing shot captures the delicacy of early morning awakenings. “Because some of the dialogue is so sharp,” Branco says, “there is a danger that the film would become too violent, so Ralph and I specifically went for a very smooth and a very pleasant morning scene.” In one instance, Grant enters his parent’s bedroom with caution, and when ‘Grace’ invites him in, Branco treats audiences to a relaxed moment between mother and son. In another, Branco’s medium close-up sharply defines Grant’s alarming vulnerability in the enclosed space of the bathroom. With straight razor in hand, Harper begins his awkward attempt to teach his son how to shave. Grant winces. Harper growls, “Don’t be a little baby! Real men shave!” It is scary but “we know that Grant is safe with Harper because of his gentle interaction with Grace,” Jones reveals, “so we continue with Harper on his journey.”

In conjunction with rights-of-passage, Scott’s direction is a flawless dramatization of health issues most families grapple with as they witness their elders pass from vibrant self-sufficient caretakers to patients suffering with dementia. “When my father started coming down with dementia,” he recalls, “it was scary and tragic. He kept himself together; when I would visit him, his fingernails would be disgustingly long and dirty. I would clip and file his nails. He would sit there just as calm as if I was the prettiest beautician. It is those moments that drew me to write in the story about Harper’s and Grant’s visit to shave the Super Chief.” Ever aware of his father’s legacy, Scott ministers a heartwarming and uplifting denouement to Super Chief’s verbal madness.

Stephen Hill is dexterous in his smooth transition from gruff father to the huggable-lovable teddy bear with Grace to the humble son during his visits with the Super Chief; and, Elijah Williams carries Grant’s vulnerability with honest reserve.

‘Barbasol’ made its New York debut at the Urbanworld Film Festival in September 2012. For more information visit http://www.socialcinemaproject.com

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Tyler Perry takes a chance in the middle of a career that he has established carefully as a writer, producer, director, and actor. Refreshing is this cinematic move. Refreshing, too, is Perry’s faith in his followers that they will support his decision to perform outside of the Madea box. Perry’s calculated risk affords him top billing, and a project advanced by a well-oiled advertising campaign; however, the movie rewarded him with a dismal box office disappointment. Not surprising because this newest venture directed by Rob Cohen (The Fast and The Furious; Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story) has too many individual parts that fail to coalesce into a unified filmic ensemble.

Alex Cross is the creation of author, James Patterson, whose entourage of murder mysteries and crime thrillers features an African American homicide detective who is a psychologist with the skill of deduction that mimics Sir Author Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. Film goers were introduced to Cross in Kiss the Girls (1997) and Along Came a Spider (2001) starring Morgan Freeman. In this installment set in Detroit, Michigan, Cross finds himself tackling a sadistic assassin and serial killer named Picasso (Matthew Fox), so-called because of the cubist drawings he leaves with his victims. Cross believes he can draw Picasso out by psycho-analyzing him; but his sole reliance on textbook psychology leads him to underestimate the extreme lengths Picasso will go to divert the detective from his deadly mission. Picasso snags Tommy Kane (Edward Burns), Cross’s longtime partner, in his lethal coil. Motivated by intense grief and loss, Kane and Cross launch a no-holds-barred man-hunt for Picasso.

Fox delivers Picasso with such an exaggerated passion that it pushes him into caricature; The Joker and The Riddler could be his big brothers. Burns works hard to establish his character’s loyalty to Cross and to make believable to the audience his commitment to his girlfriend Monica (Rachel Nichols).

Unfortunately, no one really cares. The most awkward performance, however, is by John C. McGinley who plays the forgettable Captain Richard Brookwell. Who is he again? As for costumes, someone should have advised costume designer Abigail Murray against her design of Cross’s long coat; it looks like two sleeping bags sewn together; and, who made the decision on those dreadful shotguns?

Puzzling, too, is the undeveloped character and confusing storyline of the likeable Pop Pop Jones (Simenona Martinez), a young African American female teenager in jail for murdering two people whom Cross visits. As they sit down to play chess, she says to him, “you can’t save everybody Dr. Cross,” and he replies, “I’m not trying to save everybody, just you.” The film does not fully explain Pop Pop’s function in the story.

Alex Cross is a good enough story, but painful to watch are talented actors working with a script that compromises their efforts. Marc Moss and Kerry Williamson wrote the screenplay that gives generous back story to Cross. During an October 12 interview with Huffington Post Entertainment, Williamson remarks, “What I really wanted to do was an origin story, and introduce [Cross] to a new audience. I knew that it would invite comparisons to Morgan Freeman, and I kind of wanted to pull away from that.” Williamson does more than ‘pull away’; the screenwriter creates a vehicle that firewalls a smidgen of thought of Freeman thereby generating a push/pull viewing experience. Perry portrays very well the homicide detective Williamson draws in the screenplay: the “caring, principled [and] loving family man” whose strong belief in himself and his skill are bolstered by the love of a resilient extended family. Herein resides the strength of Alex Cross and a demonstration of Perry’s promising talent as an actor outside of Madea‘s workshop.

Perry’s impressive display of grief when blindsided by tragedy clearly marks not only the gravity of the moment; also, his display sets up the question, “how will the detective present his anger to his family?” Respectfully, the movie pauses to give the audience a private moment with the Cross family and, in this moment, we are party to Cross’s parenting skills as well as to his deference for his mother, Nana Mama (Cicely Tyson). The close-up brings to light the gentle acknowledgment of his daughter Janelle’s (Yara Shahidi) sorrow; Janelle’s acceptance of his tender gestures to console her reveals a daughter’s trust in her father. Cross’s tenderness, though, is transmuted to firm resolve as Nana Mama cautions him against taking revenge. She says with a piercing seriousness that is all Tyson, “Don’t you try placating me! […] Look at cha, self-appointed judge, jury and executioner!” Cross replies with sincere respect wrapped in a blanket of restraint, “Mama, either you step aside or you go back up those stairs, but you’re in my way.” We even are treated to the rituals of the Black church.

Cinematographer Ricardo Della Rosa contrasts these intense moments with lighthearted interaction between family members. Cross grabs Nana Mama and hugs her as she prepares a meal. Under a smile she feigns annoyance that Cross has interrupted her in the kitchen. Another scene highlights a comfortable banter between Cross and his wife Maria, commendably played by Carmen Ejogo. Cohen’s direction of these playful relationships easily showcases a likeable Black family in everyday situations and thereby builds audience investment in the Cross household.

The domestic levity in the Cross family, however, is insufficient to bind the movie into a unified whole. Even the crimes themselves—as heinous as they are–fall short of holding the pieces together. Hopefully, Tyler Perry will find another action thriller in which to star; he’s good. Perhaps he should write his own.

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Ava DuVernay has emerged as the darling of the Black independent film movement. Her finely crafted second feature, Middle of Nowhere, earned the filmmaker the distinction of the first African American female to win Best Director at the Sundance Film Festival 2012. The film made its New York debut at the Urbanworld Film Festival in September, and during the Q&A, the moderator praised DuVernay for organizing film festivals and lobbying for the release of Black independent films via the African-American Film Releasing Movement or AaFFRM. That Middle of Nowhere opened this weekend to the biggest per screen average adds to her laurel wreath.

In Middle of Nowhere, DuVernay stages a moving drama that investigates the consequences of isolation. DuVernay tells a story specifically about women of color and their management of incarceration that entails long bus rides to prison compounds in the middle of nowhere. No doubt, the film critiques the well-known fact that the prison system undermines the family structure. “I know women who actually do have men who are incarcerated,” says DuVernay, “[imprisonment] is epidemic in black and brown communities.” This epidemic has a strong correlation to the auction block, a horrific practice throughout the plantation regime that separated enslaved families of African descent for profit.

With proficient style, DuVernay centers the story on Ruby (Emayatzy Corinealdi) and Derek (Omari Hardwick), a young married African American couple whose choices have thrust them out of their marital bliss into the prison system. Derek is sentenced to eight-years for running guns; Ruby’s strong faith in the possibility for Derek’s early release for good behavior holds the marriage together. She convinces Derek to invest in her blueprint for handling their predicament. He will follow every rule; she will quit medical school and work at night. Her schedule will allow her to take his daily phone calls. They will write frequently; and, she will visit him every week. Derek protests, “keep going with life! I don’t want you to stop for me, baby!” Ruby reminds him, “you are me.” All goes well until Ruby learns disheartening news during his parole hearing.

The visual acuity of cinematographer Bradford Young brings to life the brilliance of DuVernay’s story. A lone bus carrying family members pierces a road leading to the prison compound that is shaded in a muted tan and hazy ice blue setting. Young’s bird’s eye shot of the bus and the barbed wire establishes the desolate environment. Outside, silence permeates as visitors lean against a chain-link fence waiting for entry. Inside, buzzers grate on the nerves, and the clang-clank of iron cell doors echo throughout the prison structure, compliments

of sound editors Rickley Dumm (Twilight; Sparkle) and Craig Polding (2012: Ice Age). As the film progresses, Young’s use of the ‘close-up’ is considerable yet admirably efficient. Hues of midnight and dusky blues along with deep browns and golden amber compliment Young’s capture of the expressions of joy, anxiety, tenderness, and seduction. A sprinkle of flashbacks provide glimpses into Ruby’s and Derek’s history; and, selective focus combined with the close-up draw attention to the difficult choices Ruby has to make when Brian (David Oyelowo) enters her life. In addition to using the ‘close-up’ to emphasize intense emotions, Young exploits the film form to expand the terrain of intimacy. His expansion includes visuals of Ruby and her mother (Lorraine Toussaint); and Ruby and her sister, Rosie (Edwina Findley) in conversation. “The human body is like a landscape,” says Young, “and I wanted to stretch this idea of intimacy; I start with the ‘close-up’ and then move away.” An example of Young’s cinematic stretch comprehends Ruby’s and Derek’s vulnerable state that you want to touch the screen and hug the couple.

Corinealdi and Hardwick embody the confinement that has intruded upon their characters’ lives. Hardwick, especially, carries the weight of confinement with interior depth and strength. In the course of Ruby’s visits, he carefully monitors each physical and verbal gesture that we feel the emotional tightrope

on which he walks. Corinealdi plays a vivacious Ruby against Hardwick’s restraint with splendid charm, and her performance sustains the zest for the possibilities.

The filmmaker’s small but noteworthy acknowledgement of one of the culprits behind the tear in the seam of this marriage accompanies DuVernay’s story. One evening, the sisters contemplate Derek’s decision to run guns—an operation which enhanced the couple’s economic status. In one line of dialogue, Ruby accedes to her sister Rosie, “I made him think I’d really be happy with all of that stuff.” What is this “stuff”? One moment in pop culture history could offer some insight. The advent of music videos and television programs such as Sex in the City, The Game, Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle, cultivated consumer desire for material goods, chiefly, all things designer, if not, haute couture. Designers such as Coach, Manolo Blahnik, Christian “Loubou” Louboutin, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton gained widespread currency in households. Ruby and Derek drop down into this culture, and conceivably “got caught up” in the acquisition of things.

Middle of Nowhere truly is a cinematic accomplishment, and with the talent attached, the film has matured into a very lovely creation. The opening weekend attests to that! Casting Agent, Aisha Cooley, deserves applause for a finely cast film.

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Each installment of the Madea franchise guarantees the restoration of order in the landmine of the domestic sphere. Be it the punishment of an impertinent young adult or the reprimand of distracted parents who allow her to act out, we count on Madea’s courage to speak the truth. When she accepts the challenge, she is pardoned for every inane comedic antic. For instance, in Madea’s Family Reunion, we flinch when she reaches in the back seat of the car (butt to camera) to slap the disrespectful runaway Nikki (Keke Palmer). All is forgiven, however, when she inspires Nikki to believe in herself. We excuse the two punches in the face to the rude black male teenager at 3:00 who yells out “shut-up old lady” on the school bus in that same film. In Madea’s One Big Happy Family, she drives her Cadillac through a fast food restaurant but we absolve her of that when she delivers a back-handed slap to H.J. (Stevie Wash, Jr.) for his ill-manners towards her and when she demands that the parents take back their authority within their own household. We forgive her because Perry made her our own mediator in chaos, and we know that she loves us.

Madea’s Witness Protection, however, showcases a Madea with a different approach to chastising white young adults. In addition, the casting of Denise Richards recalls a certain moment in Black film history. These choices bring to relief a film-viewing uneasiness. In summary, Cindy Needleman (Danielle Campbell), daughter of George Needleman (Eugene Levy) and step-daughter to Kate (Denise Richards), is a white teenager who is abruptly thrown into the witness protection program. Her father was set-up to take the fall for a mob-backed Ponzi scheme. The prosecutor (Tyler Perry) hides them in Madea’s house under witness protection, and it is there that Cindy acts out.

As aforementioned, in all other Madea films, Madea rightly broaches no patience for insolent Black young adults. In Witness Protection, however, Madea searches for reasons why Cindy is so mad and angry. Cindy tells her stepmother to “go to hell” and, without reserve hollers “you suck” and “I hate you” to her father. In one scene Cindy frustrates Madea’s attempts to awaken her. She yells “Go Away”, and throws a pillow at Madea. A furious Madea pours a bucket of water on the bad-mannered teen. Suddenly the physical violence dispatched to Nikki, H.J., and the student on the school bus isn’t so forgivable. For sure Cindy is not Madea’s child nor a relative, but neither are the other young adults. Nikki, for instance, is a runaway placed in foster care with Madea. In the end, impertinent white young adults need understanding and a “cooling off”; impertinent black young adults deserve a slap, a punch, and/or a battle royal with Madea.

The casting choice of the lithe Denise Richards for Kate Needleman also changes the Madea dynamic. Kate and Madea side-by-side reflect a popular pair in Black film history: Scarlett O’Hara (Vivian Leigh) and Mammy (Hattie McDaniel).

The über-thin white delicate body compared to that of the rotund black body ensures two things: the delicate sexy Kate (desirable) and the desexualized and harsh maturity of Madea (undesirable). Consider the Yoga scene. Joe signifies on Madea’s elephantine buttocks during his lecherous eyeballing of Kate’s slim rear-end. Kate stands long and lean in her warrior and tree poses in the living room while Madea prepares breakfast. The camera follows Joe’s focus through Kate and lands on Madea’s behind. In Joe’s eyes, Madea is a “wildebeest in its natural habitat” and her butt must be hungry because it is “chewing through [her] dress.” We laugh.

Wait a minute: Laughing doesn’t feel so good.

Tyler Perry treats us with an array of Black women body types, and Madea fits comfortably within that community. Joe’s taunts generally are dismissed possibly because we all have a Joe/Josephine in the family. “Pay ‘im no mind,” we shrug. Madea’s Witness Protection, though, casts an ominous shadow on Joe’s treatment of Madea in the presence of this white family. An assault on Madea on the silver screen amongst an all-black cast is one thing; but Joe’s insult to Madea to privilege Kate’s white threadlike build at her expense is unforgivable. Madea, when placed against the backdrop of white womanhood, stands as our Matriarch. She is our Elder. She is our Mediator. We intuitively are aware of her stature/status throughout every cinematic portrayal of her. Inside and outside our community she deserves our respect. It is a disappointment that Madea is not afforded this courtesy in Madea’s Witness Protection.

(Note: This review was published in the July 30, 2012 edition of The Washington Informer at http://washingtoninformer.com/index.php/lifestyle/entertainment/item/11509-madeas-witness-protection.)

Sparkle is a lush cinematic cultural artifact sustained by a sumptuous set, a dynamic soundtrack, and the rigorous artistry of its cast. Akil Production Company, along with two-time Emmy nominee Debra Martin Chase (The Princess Diaries; Just Wright), pay a respectful homage to its 1976 predecessor. No cameos needed.

The film opens in 1968 to a cacophony of voices broadcasting newsworthy events: The Vietnam War, The Beatles, civil rights and Martin Luther King, Jr. The camera swoops into Discovery, a juke-joint whose ambience of smoky rhythm, saucy blues, and salty sweat, is thickened by R&B crooner, Black (Cee-Lo Green). As his soulful “I am a Man” opens the action, placards held by Memphis Sanitation workers in 1968 captured by African American photographer Ernest C. Withers flash in my mind.

This socio-cultural context signals that Akil Production Company and Chase have crafted a film that expands the 1976 story but stands on its own. The operative word? Story. Rather than inundate the audience with a multitude of song and dance routines, the film focuses on the story of a single African American mother, Emma (Whitney Houston) who successfully has raised three attractive, well-adjusted, and talented daughters, Tamy/Sister (Carmen Ejogo), Dolores “Dee”, (Tika Sumpter), and Sparkle (Jordin Sparks) in the bustling city of Detroit, Michigan. Emma’s story is that of 1960s upward mobility despite setbacks she endured in her youth–the harshest being her teen-age pregnancy. Her rule is “respect, education and loving the Lord”. The cinematic presence of the Black church denotes her anchor, and this institution no doubt facilitated the upbringing of her daughters and made possible the acquisition and preservation of her middle class existence.

Emma’s home, beautifully shot by cinematographer Anastas N. Michos, highlights the trappings of her success: a two-story with a staircase; the Queen Anne and Bergère chairs; the small library with piano; crystal chandeliers; and the sugar and spice bedrooms replete with iron beds, vanities, and full length mirrors emphasized by pink and white flowered wallpaper. Craig Anthony’s spectacular costumes showcase each lady in her sartorial splendor. For church, gloves, hats, and coat dresses trimmed in fur; and for daytime, suits and sheaths. Even the bedtime wardrobes are luxuriant: sheer nylon peignoirs accentuated with ruffles and bows, and quilted satin bathrobes in colors of aqua, champagne and pink.
The wall art of encased butterflies and birds, however, betray this charm. These set props give nod to Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem “Sympathy”, whose first lines inspired the title of Maya Angelou’s book, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. On the whole, Sparkle is a graceful exploration of generational anxiety aggravated by socio-cultural changes. Emma’s daughters are coming of age, and the painful transition causes domestic seismic shifts that disquiet Emma but feed her daughters’ yearnings. Like the butterflies and the birds, the women in this household are trapped; yet, as does Dunbar’s caged bird, each dares to break free from pasts that have held them and Emma hostage.

On another note, the Akils skillfully dramatize the forgotten art of courtship, and the duo’s brilliant virtuosity of storytelling glistens here. Stix (Derek Luke) and Levi (Omari Hardwick) shines as wordsmiths coaxing the young women to consider them worthy suitors/partners. Hardwick, especially, translates with splendid bravura Levi’s torment when he discovers that his words cannot compete with the conspicuous bling of the wealthy, but mean-spirited Satin (Mike Epps). Epps, in turn, gives a marvelous performance as the successful stand-up comedian whose jokes are contemptuous of African Americans. He brazenly flaunts his material success in front of Levi as Levi expresses his desire for Sister; later, however, he reveals his insecurity over his new material.

Expectedly, references to Motown and its talent line-up abound, yet do not overwhelm the story. The Akils, however, gently manipulate Motown’s reputation to fuel the mother/daughter conflict and the quest for the dream. “I want to be bigger than Diana Ross,” reveals Sparkle to Stix under the stars.

The sparkle, nonetheless, shines on Whitney Houston, Carmen Ejogo, and Tika Sumpter. Houston embodies Emma, and plays her with a cool, yet fierce sophisticated determination. Her life trials dance in her voice in His Eye is on the Sparrow. Ejogo, with artful efficiency, deftly manages the heart of Tamy/Sister, a restless 30-year-old young woman caught between her past failures and that of working as a domestic while living in her mother’s house. Finally, Sumpter, with intelligent wit, steadies the sister-trio, as she moves between the tempestuous Tamy/Sister and the gentle-minded Sparkle.
Honorable mention to Michael Beach (Rev. Bryce) and Tamela Mann (Ms. Sara Waters).

If you have not seen Sparkle, you should. If you already have, see it again. This film is worth the price of the ticket. Twice.

(This Review was first appeared in the August 30, 2012 Edition of The Washington Informer at http://washingtoninformer.com/index.php/lifestyle/entertainment/item/11734-sparkle-delivers-beauty-charm-and-elegance-in-the-quest-for-the-dream.)