Author: Brooke Obie

  • I Read the ‘Wicked’ Novel & Watched the Broadway Musical So You Don’t Have To

    I Read the ‘Wicked’ Novel & Watched the Broadway Musical So You Don’t Have To

    It’s Wicked week! In honor of the most radical film of 2024 being released on digital this week, I’ve got another major breakdown of the story of my favorite green revolutionary for you. When I love something as much as I love Wicked: Part One, I’ve got to know everything. Back in early November, after my first watch (and the hour-long convo I had with friends afterward in the parking lot of Universal Studios), I immediately went home and watched a bootleg recording of the Broadway musical on YouTube (just search for the code words “Slime Tutorial” and they’ll pop right up!) so I could see how the upcoming movie sequel Wicked: For Good will end. Once actress and activist Angelica Ross put me on to how wild the novel is that the musical and film are based on—Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire—I had to read that too.

    After hours and hours (and hours! and hours!) of watching the film, the film commentary from Director Jon Chu and stars Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, the deleted scenes, the making-of documentary, and the Broadway musical; and after reading the novel (while listening to the audiobook—a lifesaver if you also have trouble staying focused while reading!), I’m here to break down the best (and worst) differences between the book, film and show, as a treat to thank my paid subscribers for your support! But don’t worry about spoilers for Part Two; I’ll only cover the parts of the book and the Broadway show that are featured in the film Wicked: Part One. Let’s get into it! (Watch a deleted scene from the film and find a link to the script below!)


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  • Don’t Miss The Radical Message of ‘Wicked’

    Don’t Miss The Radical Message of ‘Wicked’

    What makes humans different from animals? Some vegans have been arguing for ages that a living soul is a living soul. But humans who have amassed power—usually by violent force—have created hierarchies of life: not just between species, but also within humanity itself. When we dehumanize something/someone/or a group of someones, we declare that their life is less valuable and therefore less necessary to be saved. Toni Morrison sums this up in her novel Song of Solomon: “Perhaps that’s what all human relationships boil down to: Would you save my life? Or would you take it?”

    MANUFACTURING CONSENT

    This question is at the heart of the 2024 studio blockbuster film Wicked: Part One. Based on the Tony-winning Broadway musical (which was adapted from the best-selling novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West), Wicked tells the backstory of the infamous green-colored witch from the classic tale The Wizard of Oz. Also adapted from a novel of the same name, the 1939 film starring Judy Garland as a teenaged Dorothy presented the green lady as a wicked witch whom the Wizard of Oz tasked Dorothy with murdering in order for her to get back home to Kansas.

    Wicked not only gave the witch a name—Elphaba Thropp, named after the author of the Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum (L-Fa-Ba)—it also gave her a backstory and a total rewrite. Elphaba was never wicked, the story goes. She was simply a young woman born with green skin. Once she learned that the Wizard of Oz was a powerless fraud (as Dorothy later learns as well) and a genocidal maniac, Elphaba sets out to stop his reign of terror. In her choice to go against the Wizard, she is demonized as wicked and labeled an enemy of the State.

    But her demonization began long before she got close enough to the Wizard to uncover that the emperor had no clothes. Growing up without a mother in the musical/film, her father, the governor of Munchkinland, withdrew any lovingkindness from her. Other children taunted her for her green skin and were terrified of her telekinesis powers. When she enrolls at Shiz University on a fluke—she accompanies her disabled sister NessaRose to school, gets upset and accidentally reveals her powers, impressing Madame Morrible, the head of sorcery—she’s immediately outcast, mocked and feared.

    Though there used to be Animals who talked and studied alongside humans at Shiz, the Animals are mysteriously disappearing, with only Dr. Dillamond, Elphaba’s goat professor of life sciences, remaining on the faculty. Even as a professor, Dr. Dillamond is still below Elphaba in the hierarchy of life. Munchkinlanders like Boq, though able-bodied, are very short and toward the lower end of the hierarchy as well. NessaRose, visibly disabled and using a wheelchair, is slightly above her sister Elphaba and Boq as the beloved daughter of the wealthy governor and a beautiful human possessing a typical skin color and size. At the top, of course, and the most popular at Shiz are Galinda, a blonde white woman of the Upper Uplands, and Fiyero, a white man, and an actual prince.

    Casting a Black woman, Cynthia Erivo, as Elphaba is no small thing. Usually portrayed by white actresses like Idina Menzel who originated the role on Broadway, Elphaba is finally being played by an actress who has been marginalized by race. In the novel upon which the musical and now the film are based, Elphaba longs for white skin like her siblings at one point, so, it definitely matters that Elphaba in the film version, as played by Erivo, does not. In a pivotal scene, as Elphaba sings, “The Wizard and I,” and fantasizes about the Wizard “degreenify[ing]” her, the lighting around her changes to reveal the actress’s deep brown skin. This is presumably a signal from the filmmakers—along with the presence of other Black people in Oz and at Shiz— that, unlike in our world, white supremacy isn’t the ultimate determining factor of who is considered human and who is less/not human. There are other factors at play in this fantastical world.

    (My main criticism of this otherwise flawless film is that it could use a clearer breakdown of what those factors are! Talking Animals is normal, as are very small people, but green skin is terrifying and scandalous? The math is not adding! But I digress.)

    Though Elphaba experiences many things Black women experience—going from pet to threat when a mentor can no longer control her; being betrayed by a white woman like Galinda as soon as solidarity becomes inconvenient—Elphaba’s still not exactly experiencing racism.

    Though she’s discriminated against “for the color of her skin,” there is no group of green people in Oz to make up a race of people who are systemically oppressed. The discrimination she faces is actually ableism from a skin disorder, a presumed skin “deformity,” which leads to her dehumanization. Perhaps it’s a distinction without a difference, as all forms of discrimination are intended to remove from its victims the sacredness of life. The more Elphaba does not fit in, the more she is not only dehumanized but animalized.

    As soon as Elphaba chooses not to use her powers in service of the Wizard, she is further relegated to animal status. Madame Morrible calls her a “beast” and a “savage” to instill in the minds of her fellow human beings that Elphaba is not one of them and is a threat to their lives. Through dehumanization, Morrible manufactures consent of the humans to take Elphaba’s life from her.

    GROVELING IN SUBMISSION

    Because Black women are constantly dehumanized in a racist and sexist world, many Black women have found in Elphaba a kindred spirit. Since Wicked premiered, I’ve seen dozens of social media posts from Black women suggesting that Elphaba represents the 92% of Black women like them who voted for Kamala Harris, and Galinda represents the white women who betrayed the sisterhood by voting for Trump (again!). In their analogy, Trump is the epitome of the world’s evils, the fraudulent wizard who has tricked people into raising him into power. Kamala, a Black woman, and Trump’s opponent, and by extension her supporters, must naturally be the Elphaba in the scenario. But there’s a bit of a complication to that interpretation.

    At the time of Elphaba’s opposition, the Wizard has been in power for years and is actively committing a genocide of Animals. As the leader of Oz, he is systematically killing, imprisoning, and committing ethnic/species-cleansing in Oz, removing Animals’ ability to speak and pushing them out of the region.

    This is made more clear in the novel Wicked: The Life & Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, but capital A Animals are those like Dr. Dillamond, who can talk and think and otherwise behave as humans do. Lowercase animals, on the other hand, are used for food. In the novel, Dr. Dillamond conducts scientific research to prove that there’s no fundamental difference between Animals and humans, and therefore Animals should not be discriminated against. Dr. Dillamond meets a very different fate in the novel for his efforts. (Become a paid subscriber to read my breakdown of the novel vs. the film vs. the Broadway musical coming this week!)

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    If only Dr. Dillamond had access to Toni Morrison! As she taught us, “the very serious function of racism [speciesism, for our purposes here,] is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.”

    In the past fourteen months of the US-Israeli genocide of Palestinians, we have seen livestreamed children begging the world to stop their oppression. We have seen lawyers arguing before the International Court that Israel is committing blatant war crimes under international law. We have seen the International Court conclude that Israel is committing a plausible genocide against Palestinians.

    And still, over decades, and now daily in U.S. mainstream media over the past 14 months, we have seen in bold lettering, the Palestine Exception. The NYT, BBC, The Guardian, the Washington Post have invented new forms of passive language to excuse Israelis’ point-blank execution of Palestinian children, the destruction of all universities in Gaza, the explosion of hospitals, the murder of doctors and nurses and hospital directors, pregnant mothers and hundreds of Palestinian journalists. We must follow international law—unless we’re killing Palestinians. We must stop human rights abuses—unless the victims are Palestinians. We must stop genocide—unless we’re genociding Palestinians. There will, as Morrison says, always be one more thing, one more goal post to move on the hierarchy of life. The Palestine Exception means that all lives matter—except the ones that don’t at all.

    Who has been dehumanizing Palestinians while committing the genocide in Palestine over the last two years? It’s not Trump. It’s President Joe Biden, Vice President Kamala Harris, and a bipartisan U.S. Congress. Despite the fact that more than 50% of Americans say the U.S. must stop funding Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Under the Biden-Harris administration, anti-genocide protestors are jailed, fired, demonized in the press and expelled from their schools by the powers who want to continue genocide without opposition. This is fascism. Right now. Our current leaders are fascists. And that means—

    My sisters in Christ, I’m going to hold your hands when I say this—Galinda is you too.

    Galinda betrayed her solidarity with the oppressed (Elphaba) for an opportunity to advance her own power in the government. Galinda chastised Elphaba for being so combative with the Wizard, putting both of their lives in danger with her quest to save the Animals from genocide. Stop me if this sounds familiar. When Kamala lost—after refusing to bend on her unconditional support for Israel’s genocide—many people chastised anti-genocide protestors for withholding their votes from Kamala, using Galinda’s own words to Elphaba to do so: “I hope you’re happy, how you’ve hurt your cause forever! / I hope you think you’re clever!!”

    Some who are against genocide struggled with whether to vote for Harris as her administration carried out a livestreamed Holocaust of Palestinians. Many wrestled with what the best choice would be—stay home; protest the two-party oligarchy by voting third party; or elect Kamala and try to “push her left,” even as she said she could think of “nothing” that she would do differently than Biden if she were president.

    A two-party oligarchy relies on illusions of power, illusions of choice to keep the populace in line. It presents false binaries: sacrifice Palestinians for the chance of abortion rights, LGBTQ+ rights, and other civil rights here at home. Way too many voters, way too many American politicians, and way too many journalists believed the false binary and chose what they believed was their own survival. Way too many of us believed in the illusion of power that having a Black woman face of Empire would bring.

    But Elphaba refused to be the token colored tool of Empire, even as she was the perfect candidate for State seduction. She was vulnerable, with a fragile support system and a learned self-hatred. She was just starting to make a friend in Galinda and was just starting to learn her own power, thanks to Madame Morrible’s encouragement. She had the world to gain by joining the Wizard and everything to lose by opposing him. The Wizard, Madame Morrible and Galinda knew this and all played on Elphaba’s deepest desires (to be seen, loved, celebrated, and accepted; to do good in the world) and her deepest fears (that despite her best efforts, she would never be loved and accepted). This is how a fascist state keeps control over its population, teasing them with their own aspirations; taunting them with their own fears. Galinda reminds Elphaba that all she has to do is apologize to the Wizard and Elphaba could still have all she ever wanted.

    But Elphaba cuts right through the manipulation, straight to Toni Morrison’s measure of humanity: would she save a life, or would she take it? Elphaba recoils at the thought of sacrificing the Animals’ lives and liberation for a faulty sense of her own.

    “I don’t want it—I can’t want it anymore,” she sings, and releases her fantasies of human acceptance, aligning herself fully with the Animal world.

    The second she finds out that the Wizard is committing the genocide of the Animals, that he needs her complicity to have any power at all, she immediately snatches her power out of his grasp. She rejects him and his illusions of power, safety, even love, immediately. She will not be his tool to oppress others for the sake of “representation.” “Too long I’ve been afraid of losing love, I guess I’ve lost!” She sings. She decides that the “love” the Wizard promises her “comes at much too high a cost.”

    She will not be a prisoner to her own fears and ambitions. She will be free.

    Elphaba, in all of her fictional glory, shouldn’t be co-opted. She has a moral clarity that aligns with many real-life people who’ve also made real life choices to fight against genocide over the past 14 months—under the pain of death; under the pain of forced unemployment; under the pain of social ostracization, demonization, and imprisonment. These choices should not be minimized. They take courage that most people are socialized to lack. Most people are taught how to be Galinda: to not rock the boat, to choose the path of least resistance, to stomach incremental change and reap the rewards of being a cog in the system.

    “I hope you’re happy, how you’d grovel in submission to feed your own ambition,” Elphaba shoots back at Galinda for her choice to abandon the mission to save the Animals and instead try to save herself and “change things from the inside.”

    TOO LATE TO GO BACK TO SLEEP

    I believe James Baldwin had the overabundance of Galindas in the world in mind when he said that “Love has never been a popular movement. And no one’s ever wanted, really, to be free. The world is held together, really it is held together, by the love and the passion of a very few people.”

    Elphaba is a rare person of courage, of passion, of love. Her path is not glamorous or easy. Her ostracization and demonization are warnings to anyone who would choose to follow her: Cowardice is free; courage costs.

    It is beautiful that so many people see themselves in Elphaba’s struggle—it is no easy feat to survive being systemically othered since childhood because of who you are. It’s wonderful to have Black women examples on screen like Elphaba, overcoming similar struggles and healing their inner child as they find and claim their power. But it is even more powerful that Elphaba’s oppression led her to a place of moral and political clarity: she knew she would never be free, loved or accepted by a system that imprisons, hates and expels the Animals. As long as she could be animalized at the drop of a hat, she saw in the Animals a joint struggle and an inextricably linked fate.

    Elphaba flew off on her broomstick not to escape the Wizard but (*mild Part 2 spoiler*) to join the Animals in their fight. This is perhaps the most radical act and character on film in 2024. To reduce this message of solidarity and community struggle to a one-time vote in U.S. electoral politics is to miss not only the point of the character and the film but our own potential to do and be more in real life in the struggle for liberation. The U.S. is still committing genocide with Israel against Palestinians. There is still time to join the fight against our tax dollars doing this evil work.

    It is this kind of inspired courage that causes films like Wicked to be intentionally misinterpreted, if we’re even allowed to see them in the future. Filmmaker Adam McKay warned on Twitter last week that he “wouldn’t be surprised to see the movie banned in 3-5 years,” due to it being “one of the most radical big studio Hollywood movies ever made.” He tweeted: “On a pure storytelling level Wicked: Part [One]…is nakedly about radicalization in the face of careerism, fascism, propaganda.”

    His prediction isn’t so far-fetched. Netflix has already removed 19 films by and about Palestinians from its catalogue, furthering the erasure of Palestinians and the silencing of opposition to genocide and illegal occupation of Palestine. As South African apartheid survivors and Black American civil rights legends understand: the Palestinian struggle and the Black struggle for liberation are more alike than they are different. If books about Black struggle are already being banned, it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that a film starring a Black woman who revolts against a fascist system and might inspire others to do the same would be banned as well.

    Would you save my life? Or would you take it?

    When Elphaba is confronted with this choice, she sings, “Too late for second-guessing, too late to go back to sleep,” in her show-stopping final number, “Defying Gravity.” She’s woke now and there’s no turning back from her mission for liberation. While the film is still available, I hope those of us who found kinship with Elphaba are led to reflect on the Elphabas that we know in real life, who are in our families, in our communities, in our workplaces and schools yet who aren’t given the love and support it’s so easy to give a fictional character. Who are the Elphabas around you who you witness speaking truth to power and walking in integrity but get shunned and mocked? And what can you do to not only support the Elphabas among you, but to unleash the inner Elphaba that fear and ambition have locked away?

    Let the lessons of the film spark us to interrogate deeper what Elphaba was willing to sacrifice and what her choices really mean—not just in the movies, but in our lives. I hope her story inspires us to become our highest, most courageous selves. In order to defy the forces that are coming against us, and the fascism that’s already here, we’ll need to.

    Stay watchin’!

    Brooke

  • How to Watch the Best Movies of 2024

    How to Watch the Best Movies of 2024

    It’s the hap-happiest season of all! Yes, holiday, but also: Awards. And though I believe our liberation lies in divesting from Hollywood systems of power—starting with their awards as the measure of a film’s quality—this is the time of year when critics get all the screeners for every movie, all the screenplays, vinyls of the best scores and soundtracks, and other fun paraphernalia. It’s a movie-lover’s dream. (Follow BGW on IG so you can see when I post all of my film goodies!)

    As a cinephile and an awards voter, I take the job seriously; I watch and consider every movie. I read the screenplays. I attend the Q&As with cast and crew here in Hollywood. I read the books they’re based on. Every year, I send off my ballot, knowing that the final awards nominations will be absolutely eye-roll inducing or infuriating —Emilia Perez when I Saw the TV Glow is RIGHT THERE?!!—but, alas.

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    These nominations are a constant reminder that Hollywood systems of power have an agenda that is never in the best interests of marginalized people. They invisibilize or prop up stories of us based on the lens through which they want us to be seen, for their benefit. That’s why you’ll never see award show predictions here at Black Girl Watching. It doesn’t serve us to think about movies and TV from their frame of worthiness. But achievements in film and TV should absolutely be celebrated. So here’s my celebration of the 28 best movies of 2024!

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    ANCESTORS TALKIN:

    The Piano Lesson: There’s a moment in this beautiful film from first-time director and nepo baby Malcolm Washington, where a preacher, played by Corey Hawkins, has come to the limits of what his organized religion can accomplish. He implores Danielle Deadwyler’s Berniece to call on her ancestors for help defeating the ghost of their family’s enslaver who is haunting them. In yet another stunning turn from the criminally underrated Deadwyler, Berniece calls on the ancestors and they come. This film, based on August Wilson’s play of the same name, is not just an achievement in filmmaking, but a reminder that our ancestors have been through what we’re going through and even worse; they have wisdom and tools and protection to share with us. We just have to ask.

    Watch The Piano Lesson on Netflix.

    Dahomey: French-Senagalese writer-director Mati Diop is back with my absolute favorite film of the year. With Dahomey, Diop documents the theft and plunder by the French of thousands of artifacts from the Kingdom of Dahomey and its recent return of 26 artifacts to the present-day country of Benin. In her brilliance, Diop doesn’t shoot Dahomey like a typical documentary; she shoots it like a narrative film and even gives voice to the stolen artifacts that are returning home to a changed world after more than a century. This blurring of documentary and reimagination creates space for healing, giving the ancestors back the voice that was stolen from them and putting them in conversation with their present-day descendants who are still battling the effects of white supremacist colonization to this day.

    Watch Dahomey FOR FREE for 30 days on MUBI.

    Moana 2: In this Disney sequel, wayfinder Moana is tasked with reuniting all of the people of the Pacific Islands for their own survival. To do so, she must enlist the help of her last wayfinding ancestor to defeat a terrible god who has intentionally divided the people. I love when kids’ movies subtly address colonization and teach children that ancestors never leave us and want to help us. And the music slaps!

    Moana 2 is the number one movie in the world, three weeks in a row! Catch it in theaters or eventually on Disney+.


    ART AS A HEALING AGENT

    Sing, Sing: My favorite film from TIFF ‘23 finally made its way to screens this year, dramatizing the true stories of incarcerated people (many who played themselves in the film) healing through an arts program at the infamous New York prison Sing Sing. The program, Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) is an actual program that has helped incarcerated people work through emotional distress, pain and anger by performing in plays for fellow incarcerated people and has been credited with lowering recidivism rates once the actors are released from prison. Starring Colman Domingo and formerly incarcerated Clarence Maclin playing a version of himself in his debut scene-stealing film role, Sing Sing is a powerful argument for abolition and a must-see film.

    Sing Sing is out of theaters and not yet available on streaming, but will likely be on Max with other A24 movies soon.

    Daughters: Another heartbreaking film on the horrors of the prison system is the Netflix documentary Daughters. This film follows young Black girls whose fathers are incarcerated over the course of their lives and shows the devastating impact their absence has on the girls. But one organization puts on a Daddy-Daughter Dance at a D.C. prison to reunite the incarcerated fathers with their girls in an afternoon of healing. The best film out of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival, Daughters will absolutely break your heart and ignite a passion for abolition.

    Watch Daughters on Netflix now.

    Exhibiting Forgiveness: Painter Titus Kaphar tells a version of his own life story in his debut film as writer-director. Played by Andre Holland, a Black painter who uses his artwork to process his painful childhood has his emerging success nearly derailed when his abusive father reappears looking for forgiveness. *Spoiler* I really dislike when Black women are discarded in fictionalized stories for the purposes of a man’s growth and development—especially when things happened differently in real life! Justice for Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor! Still there are many beautiful things to love about the film—the paintings most of all.

    Exhibiting Forgiveness is available to rent or buy.

    Fancy Dance: Fancy Dance is one of the last films I saw of the 2023 season, and it was one of the best, in no small part, thanks to Lily Gladstone. Her powerful performance as a grieving sister and aunt trying her best to take care of her niece while she searches for her missing sister with Child Protective Services, white family members and the FBI breathing down her back was stellar. It is Killers of the Flower Moon in the present day if its director Martin Scorsese had stepped aside and let an Indigenous woman writer-director tell an Indigenous story. It’s the best work of Gladstone’s career, telling an Indigenous story by Indigenous people and using Indigenous dance as a spiritual healing agent.

    Watch Fancy Dance on Apple TV+.

    I Saw the TV Glow: This film!! One of my favorites coming out of the Sundance Film Festival by trans writer-director Jane Schoenbrun and starring Ian Foreman and Justice Smith in particularly thoughtful and effective performances, actually shows the audience what it’s like to experience the gender dysphoria that so many young trans people feel before transitioning. Using a ‘90s Buffy the Vampire Slayer-type of show, The Pink Opaque, as a catalyst, two kids start questioning their identity and reality, and take different paths when they learn the answer.

    Put down Emilia Perez and watch I Saw the TV Glow, on Max.

    Bob Marley: One Love: I love Bob Marley’s music and Rastafari message of global Black liberation. This film captures the essence of Marley’s story and lets us relieve the glory of his music—though I have not forgotten what the film’s star Kingsley Ben-Adir said about Black Americans.

    Watch Bob Marley: One Love on MGM+ and Paramount+.


    FIGHTING FASCISM:

    No Other Land: This may be the best film of the year that will not get mainstream distribution. Palestinian and Israeli filmmakers came together to tell the story of Israeli apartheid, genocide, torture, and abuse of Palestinians in the West Bank—before October 7, 2023, and beyond it—and the enduring Palestinian resistance. It’s hard to watch. It’s devastating. It’s necessary. And it’s the truth. Which is why mainstream platforms don’t want you to see it—especially as they continue to manufacture consent for the ongoing genocide of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. I was fortunate to see this film at the Toronto International Film Festival this year, where Free Gaza protests took place in front of the U.S. Embassy near the festival.

    No Other Land is currently unavailable to stream as it awaits U.S. distribution.

    Wicked: I never cared about the retelling of the Wicked Witch of the West until this moment when she was portrayed by a Black woman. Now, with that context, the story of an outcast who comes to understand her own power in order to fight back against an evil fascist regime has so much more significance. Still, I’ve seen enough misreadings of this film that I will have to do a deep dive on the meaning of Wicked in the next newsletter. But in summary, Wicked ingeniously shows how to fight fascism: You align with the most marginalized and oppressed. You reject “representation” in the fascist regime and instead tell the truth loudly. And you do it even if you have to do it alone; even at the risk of your demonization and ostracization . There is no negotiating with fascists or trying to “change it from the inside.” There’s only defying fascists and refusing their empty promises of power when we know our collective power is so much stronger and will last.

    Just like a great musical—every song is a banger, I haven’t stopped singing them! And all of the performances, from Cynthia to Ari to Jonathan Bailey as a Fiyero, are pitch perfect. My only quibble is with the lighting in Fiyero’s “Dancing Through Life” number. Why is it backlit like that??? Otherwise, the 2h40m fly by. 9.9/10. Though I haven’t forgotten what Cynthia Erivo said about Black Americans either.

    Watch Wicked in theaters now.

    Union: This documentary shows how mistreated Amazon workers in a New York warehouse unionized their workforce against one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world—Jeff Bezos—and his cronies. It’s both inspiring for what’s possible when workers of the world unite, and heartbreaking when major issues interfere with unity.

    Rent Union here.

    The Wild Robot: I cannot say enough about this lusciously animated film: The decadent score by Kris Bowers; the heartfelt performance by Lupita Nyong’o; the original song “Kiss the Sky” that plays over the most emotionally resonate montage in the film; the story of a robot who chooses to override her programming to help a baby bird in need and who teaches all of the other animals to override their programming too, in order to form a conscious community that can survive together. The way things are is not the way things have to be! I love how radical children’s storytelling can be and I hope the kids—and adults!—who watch this film carry the message of what’s possible into their own communities in real life.

    The Wild Robot is now available to rent.

    Mufasa: The Lion King: I see what you did there, Barry Jenkins! Many have been critical of the auteur’s decision to cash out with a Disney bag by directing the live action Mufasa: The Lion King. Even Jenkins has been on the defense ever since his participation was announced. Let’s face it: Mufasa is an obvious, corporate IP money grab. Literally no one asked for this live-action prequel or for Lin Manuel Miranda’s uninspired retread of The Lion King’s most iconic songs. Still, I see what Jenkins tried to do with it. First: the visual effects are incredible; there were so many luminous shots and camera angles that immersed the audience in the feeling of being chased, of falling over cliffs, of being washed away by a raging river.

    The Moonlight director is also known for examining Black masculinity in his works, and Mufasa is no exception. Played by Aaron Pierre and Kelvin Harrison, Jr., Mufasa and Taka (who will become Scar) show how masculinity can be strengthened for the good of everyone when socially “feminine” traits are adopted, and how masculinity can devolve into a toxic, deadly force when these attributes are rejected in favor of competition, dominance and submission. And I’m all for a story about how snow-white lions, “the Outsiders,” are colonizing and genociding the African prides and only Mufasa uniting all of the (presumably “Insider”) Africans can fight these literal white devils. I see you, Barry! Ultimately, and unfortunately, Jenkins was hamstrung by the literal title and premise of the story: no matter how socialist the efforts are, in a Disney movie, someone still has to be king. But, A for effort!

    Watch Mufasa: The Lion King in theaters on Friday, December 20.


    OVERCOMING GRIEF:

    Hard Truths: In this searing drama, Marianne Jean-Baptiste plays a woman on the edge; a pulsing ball of rage and slight who sees danger and insult everywhere she looks. Though at times comical, Hard Truths never laughs at its main character, but unfolds her, allowing her humanity and deep grief to seep through her rough edges until a final moment of gushing release. A favorite of mine from the Toronto International Film Festival, Hard Truths and Jean-Baptiste provide a raw portrait of depression unlike any I’ve ever seen and dares us not to look away.

    Watch Hard Truths in Theaters.

    Megan Thee Stallion: In Her Words: Get ready to bawl your eyes out. This documentary is the chart-topping rapper’s opportunity to tell her own story of grief and trauma after being shot by Tory Lanez and betrayed by her best friend in the wake of the back-to-back deaths of her mother and grandmother. It is a lesson in the misogynoir Black women face even within our own community—let alone outside of it. It is a triumphant reclaiming of truth and a testimony of surviving and thriving, with stunning and compassionate directing by Nneka Onuorah.

    Watch Megan Thee Stallion: In Her Words on Prime Video.

    Mother, Mother: I don’t want to spoil this beautiful abolitionist dream of a film, so I’ll just say that two grieving mothers teach each other about accountability, community and healing in the most gorgeous way. This film by Somali-Canadian writer-director K’naan Warsame in his debut, is abolition in action. It is another possible world. It shows that even in our grief, our rage, our despair, we can still choose a path of healing and wholeness that is the exact opposite of what we’ve been taught to believe is justice.

    Mother, Mother is still seeking U.S. distribution and is unavailable to stream.

    Memoir of a Snail: This is a stop-motion animated film, but it is NOT for children, I repeat, do not sit your children in front of this hilariously heartbreaking grown-up animated film!! Memoir of a snail follows the story of a young girl whose mother introduced her to a snail obsession before passing away. Snails are her only comfort as she manages grief after grief throughout her life. This surprisingly funny film will break your heart and put it back together again.

    Memoir of a Snail is available to rent.


    SUPPORTING WOMEN’S WRONGS:

    Anora: This sex-worker Cinderella story has topped my list ever since I saw it at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. With a dash of The Hangover, this modern-day Pretty Woman embodies for me what my favorite sex worker educator Raquel Savage always says: “Sex work is not ‘empowering;’ sex work (like any other job) is work.” And no matter how well we can sell our skills and labor in exchange for money, the billionaires, the oligarchs—they are the ones who are ultimately in control. The only thing “wrong” that Anora does is put her faith in the American-Russo dream of dancing your way into exorbitant wealth. The greatest lesson of the film is that the wealthy will always have class solidarity; the only way we can survive them —and win—is if we have class solidarity too.

    Anora is now available to rent.

    Babygirl: Nicole Kidman is back in her self-destructive, rich white woman bag with Babygirl, where she plays a sexually frustrated high-powered tech founder married to Antonio Banderas with two daughters at home. When an intern who’s into the BDSM fantasies she craves starts working at her firm, she risks everything to explore everything with him that her husband refuses to do. It seems unhinged that she would throw her life and everything she’s worked for away for some 20-year-old intern, but *MILD SPOILER,* once she reveals she’s not had an orgasm in 16 years of marriage with Antonio Banderas, her acting a bit unhinged makes total sense. And because this is not a Tyler Perry Production, Nicole’s character will not be punished (by men or women) for her explorations of sexuality and pleasure past 50. Line of the year: “If I want to be humiliated, I’ll pay someone to do it for me.” 10s across the board for Nicole!

    Watch Babygirl in theaters now and coming soon to Apple TV+.

    Challengers: This Zendaya-led film is what NeNe Leakes would call “Pure innocent fun.” It follows Z and two white boys in their tennis-obsessed love triangle from high school through adulthood. And while I do think Z’s costars have more interesting story arcs and character development and she serves more as the tennis ball tossed between them or the net keeping the boys apart, (I realllllllly don’t like that!) the filmmaking, the cinematography, the camera angles, the fashion, the direction and the pulsing ‘80s techno music all made for a fun time at the movies.

    Watch Challengers on MGM+.

    She Taught Love: I am usually against Black women teaching men anything—and especially not while in the throes of terminal cancer!!!—but Arsèma Thomas (Queen Charlotte) is such a gem in the starring role as Mali and seeing this film on the big screen proves that even more. The camera loves that face! And the writer-star Darrell Britt-Gibson is charming as her exhausting love interest, so I have to support Mali’s choice to spend precious, precious time teaching a grown man things he should take it upon himself to know, and root for her happiness. (Thomas’ line-reading of “Get the f*** off my steps!” in the break-up scene lives in my mind anyway.) Celebrate this film’s gorgeous cinematography and subversive ending and cast Arsèma as the lead in everything, on IMAX next time!

    Watch She Taught Love on Hulu.

    The Last Showgirl: Pamela Anderson’s comeback movie is right up my alley. Anderson plays a Las Vegas showgirl whose decades-long career in the same show is coming to an end with only two weeks’ notice. Confronted with the reality that she might not have anything to show for her career, and due to ageism, has no way to pivot into a new one, Anderson’s showgirl defiantly rejects the idea that she has to defend her choices—even when it hurts people she loves. She loved being a showgirl for the time she got to do it, and isn’t that what life is about? For someone who has felt the urge to defend my choice to pursue a fickle art over financial stability, this film is a balm.

    Watch The Last Showgirl in Theaters now.


    TWISTED COMING OF AGE

    Inside Out 2: Another animated banger made the list of my favorites this year and it’s no surprise that the story of a 13-year-old girl trying to manage her changing emotions had me absolutely verklempt. Riley is, by all accounts, being raised in a healthy, loving household, and she is still riddled with anxiety and struggling to build a strong sense of self. Just imagine what kids in less stable homes are going through! This film and its predecessor offer the audience the language to express emotions in a healthy way—even in the most stressful situations. We need more films that are this instructive while still being incredibly entertaining.

    My Old Ass: This film will hit millennials particularly in the gut. Aubrey Plaza stars as a 39-year-old on a mushroom trip who finds herself face to face with her 18-year-old self during her last summer before college, when everything was easy and beautiful and fun; her last moment of joy before everything changes forever. This tear-jerker comedy will have you questioning your whole life and (hopefully) finding peace with the person you’ve become anyway.

    Watch My Old Ass now on Prime Video.

    Nickel Boys: Debut director RaMell Ross makes one of the most visually compelling films of the year with this adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Nickel Boys is the traumatic story of two young boys in the South who are imprisoned in a juvenille “reform school” that is simply a stand-in for a plantation. They have no way of using the law to liberate them from their indefinite sentence, no way of escape—except, perhaps, aging out or death. As you can imagine, this is an extremely heavy film whose first-person filmmaking puts the audience directly into the shoes of the main characters as they try to survive horrendous child abuse. While I’m not sure Black American audiences specifically need this experience in empathetic filmmaking—we already know or can imagine these kinds of horrors—I still see its value.

    When I spoke to the director at a talk-back, he was sharing his perspective that the theology of Christianity has permeated the way we tell stories on screen, with the camera operating as the distant Christian God, looking down, over, above and through us on earth. Even when a story is told from a particular character’s point of view, even with the most extreme close-ups on that character and also their perspective, the camera is still just a bit removed from the character, making the audience a bit removed. When the camera is a stand-in for the main character, as we experience in Nickel Boys, it’s a one-of-a-kind style that my friend Charles thought was more in line with the Buddhist ideology of Metta, a loving-kindness meditation wherein you become the other as the audience becomes the main character in Nickel Boys. This Metta filmmaking is an incredible and effective achievement that has more than earned its effusive praise—and while I’ll only ever watch it once, I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.

    Nickel Boys is now in theaters.


    UNEXPECTED SPORTS BIOPICS:

    The Fire Inside: Ryan Destiny, the star that you are! The glamorous R&B artist completely disappears into the role of Claressa Shields, the real-life young, impoverished boxer from Flint, Michigan, who goes on to win the first Olympic gold medal in women’s boxing. But unlike the typical sports biopic, The Fire Inside continues Shields’ story, sharing her struggle for racial and gender equality in the sport when even gold medals prove not to be enough. Brian Tyree Henry infuses heart into the role of Shields’ loving but frustrated childhood coach who can only take her but so far. While I would’ve loved for Shields’ mother to have a more developed role, the chemistry between Destiny and Tyree Henry create a compelling watch that proves why the actors themselves and the people they portray deserve the big screen.

    Watch The Fire Inside in theaters on December 25.

    Unstoppable: Jharrel Jerome shines in the true story of wrestling sensation Anthony Robles, the champion from Arizona who was born with one leg. Despite egregious ableism both inside his family and out in the world, Anthony excels beyond all expectations, and as usual, Jerome rises to the occasion. I hate to use the word “inspiring” because so many stories of disabled people overcoming unnecessarily ableist obstacles are described that way and used to bludgeon other disabled people who aren’t able to overcome. But Anthony’s determination to reach his wrestling goals does change the trajectory of so many people’s lives around him—including his mother Judy, played to effect by Jennifer Lopez. In a meaty supporting role, JLo’s Judy learns from her son how to stand up to her abusive husband and to fight for the life she deserves. You’ll cheer the way a sports movie compels you to cheer for the hero, and Unstoppable truly gives us an incredible hero; but I hope it also makes us think about the ways abled people make disabled people’s lives harder for our own comfort, and get busy doing something about that instead of just celebrating the people who are exceptional enough to overcome.

    Watch Unstoppable on Prime Video on January 16, 2025.

    I hope you enjoy these films as much as I do!

    Stay watchin’,

    Brooke

    Black Girl Watching is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

  • For the Love of Black Critics

    For the Love of Black Critics

    Hi friends!

    I’ve been looking forward to launching my TV/Film/Culture criticism newsletter Black Girl Watching, where I’ll process my obsessive consumption of the best (and worst) of TV and film through my Black feminist lens. Some may remember that I hosted a podcast with a friend under the same name, recapping Lovecraft Country at the beginning of the panny. If you’re on this list, you’ve subscribed at some point to my old newsletter or blog updates and are now subscribed to the free tier of Black Girl Watching, where I’ll also share exciting updates—like, that I’m a whole filmmaker now! But more on that in the next newsletter.

    Black Girl Watching is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.

    It’s because of my move into filmmaking that I wondered if I should just give up criticism. Filmmakers aren’t generally fond of criticism and can see critics as a hindrance to the creative process rather than a crucial part of it. This can decrease opportunities for critics-turned-filmmakers, as the golden rule is to never publicly critique a potential colleague’s work. And then of course, journalism as an industry is continuing its collapse, with mass layoffs happening several times a year. Culture critics are usually the first to be let go as “nonessential workers.” Even at the most “radical” and non-profit outlets, culture criticism is non-existent, focusing instead on investigative journalism and politics, while dismissing culture and entertainment reporting as “frivolous.” Even those outlets who understand and profit from culture criticism are hesitant to do so, thanks to an atmosphere of “access journalism”—i.e., if you piss off the wrong celebrity with honest critique, you’ll lose access to them/their friends/whoever else their talent agents represent. I’ve seen celebrities (and even barely celebrities) absolutely do this —most often to Black outlets with the least resources and the most to lose. In the end, though, without criticism, we all lose.

    I’ll never forget the day a Black celebrity called me up at 9AM on a holiday to lecture me about my (excellent) review of their movie for 37 minutes. My bosses had already been harassing me for doing good journalism that entire year because it was upsetting people in power and I thought, if I entertain this celebrity’s call, perhaps they won’t complain to my boss (for the second time!) and make my hostile work environment worse. There was desperation in the celebrity’s voice, frustration—anger, even. How dare I infringe upon the artist’s right to make the art they want to make? Of course, I hadn’t infringed on that right—the movie was in theaters and would continue to be, despite my negative review, which didn’t call for its removal from theaters in the first place. But it became immediately clear that the celebrity feared negative reviews meant never being able to make movies again.

    It’s true, Black flops damage Black careers far more often than white flops damage white ones. But that’s a problem with the white supremacist studio system, not a call for unmitigated Black applause out of fear that “they’ll never let us make another one.” Still, that is the expectation—that as a Black critic at a Black outlet, I had betrayed them by not thoughtlessly congratulating work that I thought was pretty explicitly anti-Black.

    They asked me if I had any questions about the film that they could explain to me; I said no—I’d interviewed them on the record about the film already. They suggested perhaps I’d misunderstood the message of their film. I said I’d watched it twice. We were at an impasse. It wasn’t until near the end of the call that they finally expressed what they wanted from me: to write up their arguments against my review and publish it as the celebrity’s rebuttal. I declined. I hadn’t been recording the call and had no intention of rebutting my own work and besides, it was a holiday; it was a courtesy to take their call on my vacation anyway. Their next call was to my boss.

    This is the rigamarole of being a Black critic, where “rooting for everybody Black” doesn’t mean telling Black people the truth, it means uncritical praise. It means uncritical defense of Black art because, under our white supremacist systems of power, it’s a miracle that Black people get to make any kind of public art in the first place. But I find it deeply anti-Black not to think Black art deserves deep thinking and rigorous critique, as any other art form does. If the art is too precious for review, lock it in a diary. But if it is meant for public consumption, let us eat.

    Of course, under our white supremacist systems of power, some public Black art gets greenlit and funded more than other kinds, and anti-Black art by Black people will be first on the fast track. But it’s just entertainment, right?

    There’s a reason some of our sharpest thinkers have specifically written books of film, TV and literature criticism—bell hooks’ Reel to Real: Race, Class and Sex at the Movies; Toni Morrison’s Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination; Toni Cade Bambara’s Why Black Cinema?— film, TV, music, books, entertainment is culture, and culture (who gets credit for making it, who gets to profit from making it) is political.

    Look no further than the fact that the United States military has several divisions that partner with and supervise Hollywood studios to produce entertainment in line with its agenda. From Marvel’s Iron Man franchise to DC’s Wonder Woman 1984; from the Transformers franchise to the Top Gun franchise, the U.S. Department of Defense has approved an astonishing number of scripts of the movies we consume before they even go into production, dating all the way back to World War II and the dawn of Hollywood. Because, to the powers that be, messaging matters. Entertainment matters. Culture matters. How much more, then, should it matter to the people?

    This is why we need critics. Critics think deeply about the art we consume; we research; we study; we are libraries of literature, film and TV history from which we pull to contextualize a piece of art. Whether it’s a good or bad piece of art isn’t even the most significant assessment we make, though of course, it’s what matters most to celebrities, studios and filmmakers. Criticism itself is an artform to be celebrated and consumed. Critics are artists too. And, as with all artists, some are great, some are good, some are neither. We’re not immune from our own profession. But we are necessary, now more than ever.

    In an age of rising fascism—that absolutely did not begin with Donald Trump, but will certainly accelerate under his next reign of terror—journalists, critics are supposed to hold the line. The disintegration of the media and its position as reliable and truth-centered is intentional under fascism. You are supposed to doubt your lying eyes and ears.

    Throughout more than 400 days of Joe Biden’s U.S.-Israeli live-streamed genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank, hundreds of Palestinian journalists have been targeted and killed by the zionist entity for exposing the truth of their war crimes and genocide. Western media’s uncritical spouting of Israeli propaganda and refusal to even use the word GENOCIDE has eroded what remaining trust in the media there was. Black media is no exception.

    So many of my pitches to Black media outlets this year that mention the U.S.-Israeli genocide of Palestinians have been declined for fear of retribution from the powers that actually run “Black” media. My most recent piece of criticism, a review of Eldorado Ballroom, Solange Knowles’s three-night concert series in LA, was killed at the Black vertical Refinery29 Unbothered by the white people who run Refinery29, over my explicit use of the word genocide to describe Israeli war crimes in Palestine. Despite the fact that Black and Palestinian people have been in struggle and solidarity for generations—and that many Palestinians are also Black—Black outlets have proven to be no different than white ones in their mission to censor and silence criticism of the US-Israeli genocide. (The piece, “Solange’s Eldorado Ballroom Offered a Soundtrack for the Grief of a year of Genocide” was later published on Mondoweiss, a political site dedicated to news about Palestine, instead.)

    People hate critics because we live in an unaccountable world. Seven of the last ten U.S. presidents, from Biden to Nixon have been credibly accused of rape without recourse (Obama, Carter and Ford, notwithstanding). Biden, who authored the 1994 crime bill that locked up so many of our children for drug use, has now pardoned his own child from the consequences of his law. Next, a twice convicted, twice impeached predator and charlatan in Trump will now hold the highest office in the country for a second time. White supremacy hates accountability and thrives in its absence. It teaches us to be unaccountable and to champion unaccountability intrapersonally so that we won’t be able to hold the powerful accountable either. Being accountable and holding systems to account, therefore, is some of the most radical work we can do in this moment to defeat fascism.

    Critics—Black critics. and all the intersections therein—can see the jig and speak to it in a way that others may be conditioned to ignore. It took Black feminist icon and scholar bell hooks to point out the rampant misogyny in Spike Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It. It took Imani Barbarin, a Black disabled woman critic to breakdown the ableism in the audience reaction to Wicked’s disabled character NessaRose. As one of the few early critics of the beloved movie Green Book, I spoke to the film’s raging anti-Blackness in a way that challenged its position as the feel-good buddy comedy of our time. Though my critique did not likely change the way those specific filmmakers make movies, I’ve had countless studio executives tell me it changed how they greenlight films. One of my favorite critiques, my review of Queen & Slim as an “artful wound with no medicine,” has been cited many times for the litmus test I coined in it, the Hurston-Walker Test. I coined this test for engaging with Black art from a sentence in Alice Walker’s introduction to Zora Neale Hurston’s Barracoon: “Those who love us never leave us alone with our grief. At the moment they show us our wound, they reveal they have the medicine.”

    Criticism—from and by people who love us—can be medicine. It can show us our wounds and another possible world. It can be as powerful in building culture as the other forms of media we consume because criticism is also filmmaking. It is also fiction-writing. It is also musical experiences, as Solange showed us with Eldorado Ballroom and rapper Redveil did at Tyler the Creator’s music festival last year to protest the U.S.-Israeli murder of children in Gaza.

    At this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, I watched Black filmmakers create incredible, critical medicine. Colman Domingo and producer Monique Walton’s prison abolition film Sing, Sing, not only told the story of art as a healing agent, but also revolutionized Hollywood pay scales by paying its A-list star and its lowest level worker the same salary and giving ownership stock in the film’s success to each person who worked on the film, including all of its formerly incarcerated cast. Mati Diop’s powerful documentary Dahomey called to task the French government for its theft of thousands of treasures from the kingdom of Dahomey and its paltry return of only 26 artifacts to what is now the country of Benin. Rungano Nyoni’s On Becoming a Guinea Fowl took on the African patriarchy that protects men who assault the women and girls in their families. The Agbajowo Collective’s The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos held the Nigerian government accountable for its state-sponsored destruction of slums and the people living there. Patrice: The Movie tells the story of disabled activist Patrice and how the U.S. government prevents disabled people from getting married without losing access to life-saving aide. Lupita Nyongo’s animated film The Wild Robot might be the most radical film of the year with its anti-capitalist message of socialism as a cure for our intentionally divided, hyper-individualized, soul-sick society.

    Nina Simone said that an artist’s duty is to reflect the times. She said that people shouldn’t even call themselves artists if they don’t uphold that duty. That’s accountability. That’s critique. When we love each other, when we want more than just our survival but our liberation—this is the work we do. Black filmmakers, Black artists, Black critics need each other; we are each other. Our imaginations are what build the culture and change the world. The service we provide —to create beauty from ashes, to hold up the mirror for each other, for ourselves—is what will help us build the world we all deserve.

    That’s the work I aim to contribute to here at Black Girl Watching: critical analysis with love, for a better possible world. I hope you’ll join me (and become a paid subscriber!) on the journey.

    Subscribe now

    Stay watching!

    Brooke

  • BGW: Lovecraft Country, Ep. 10, “Full Circle,” w/ Demetria L. Lucas

    Well, we’ve made it to the end of the season. Brooke & Britni are joined by writer and fellow TV lover Demetria L. Lucas to break down the Lovecraft Country season 1 finale, our favorite moments of the season, and what we’d like to see from season 2 of the hit HBO show.

    Read Brooke’s interview with Misha Green about the finale, intention, colorism, and growing through critique on Shondaland: https://www.shondaland.com/inspire/a34418712/misha-green-lovecraft-country-finale/

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  • BGW: Lovecraft Country Ep. 9, “Rewind 1921,” w/ Dr. Imani Walker

    For the penultimate episode of HBO’s Lovecraft Country we head back in time to Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1921. And to help us process the trauma of the episode and provide advice for how Black creatives can process trauma on screen, we welcome psychiatrist and “Married to Medicine: LA” star, Dr. Imani Walker.

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  • BGW: Lovecraft Country Ep. 8, “Jiga-Bobo,” w/ Ihuoma Ofordire

    Black girl rage and stolen girlhood are centerstage in ep. 8 of Lovecraft Country, and the episode’s writer Ihuoma Ofordire stops by the show to help us process what white supremacy does to Black girls.

  • BGW: Lovecraft Country Ep 7, “I Am,” w/ Aunjanue Ellis

    Aunjanue Ellis

     

    Hippolyta got something to say. This week, Lovecraft Country journeys across time and space as Hippolyta Freeman gets answers. To help us break it all down, we’re joined by the supremely talented (and cool!) Aunjanue Ellis, who chats with us about Lovecraft, Black women’s genius, and why she will forever love the Clark Sisters.

    Read Brooke’s article on why we need more films about slavery here: https://zora.medium.com/we-need-slave-movies-just-not-the-ones-we-re-getting-39964a92c693

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  • BGW: Lovecraft Country Ep. 6, “Meet Me in Daegu,” with Ju-Hyun Park

    Ju-Hyun Park

    Lovecraft Country journeys to 1949 South Korea in episode 6 so Black Girl Watching brings on brilliant poet and essayist Ju-Hyun Park to give historical and cultural context to this wild episode about South Korean mythology, the Korean War and American imperialism.

    Read Ju-Hyun’s amazing essay “Reading Colonialism in Parasite” here: https://tropicsofmeta.com/2020/02/17/reading-colonialism-in-parasite/

    Follow them on Twitter: https://twitter.com/hermit_hwarang

    And tip them if you learned something! $juhyundred

  • BGW: Lovecraft Country Ep. 5, “A Strange Case,” with Cheryl Dunye

    Karens are interrupted in Lovecraft Country episode 5, “A Strange Case.” Brooke Obie and Britni Danielle break down the metamorphoses happening with the episode’s legendary director, Cheryl Dunye.