Film as Reflection

Last month my friend Allie showed me an article about some adoption advocates that were considering calling a national boycott of the suspense movie Orphan. The movie centers on a husband and wife who recently lost their baby and as a result adopts a 9-year-old girl who is not nearly as innocent as she claims to be.

A boycott wasn’t wishful thinking for these advocates because they had already gotten Warner Brothers to delete what they considered offensive “anti adoption” language from a trailer. These protectors of children-looking-for-parents absolutely believe in the power of film and didn’t like that it was not shining a positive light in their direction.

As a side note: You do have to wonder about potential adoptive parents, who watch in horror as the celluloid orphaned bad seed goes about causing chaos and bashing in nuns' heads, and then change their minds about adoption. Do they deserve to adopt a child, bad or otherwise, if they consider the gruesome thriller appropriate research on the topic?

After much eye-rolling Allie declared, “It’s just a movie, people.”
But we can’t pretend that movies don’t have a profound place in our society. It might be through a movie that a kid in India sees a picture of the earth for the first time or girl discovers that she, too, can become a spy. Movies assist in closing gaps and creating common understandings. Movies made a big-eared, black boy from Philadelphia an international film star and maybe made the way for another big-eared, biracial boy from Hawaii to be accepted around the world.

What are movies after all but a filmmaker’s vision of what the world is or could be? For Steven Spielberg it is a world filled with aliens and mystery. For Kevin Smith life is filled with fart jokes and good friends. And every weekend we happily crowd into theaters and join them in their fantasy world.

So, that got me to thinking. The marketplace seems to bear all kinds of films. From the over-the-top gruesome to the delightfully frothy comedy, why wasn’t it seeing the potential in LGBTQ films? The celebrated Milk, starring Sean Penn, showed that a film prominently featuring LGBTQ characters not only makes money but garners awards. But for the most part LGBTQ films are relegated to the film festival circuit, then off to DVD. There are even fewer films that feature black, gay characters in the mainstream consciousness.

Patrik-Ian Polk’s feature film Noah’s Arc: Jumping the Broom did make it to movie theatres, in limited release, and primarily in indie and art house venues. The film, based on the LOGO hit comedy series Noah’s Arc, focuses on the life and loves of four black, gay friends in Los Angeles. Often compared to the HBO series Sex and the City, the movie was landmark in that no other feature film, with four openly gay, black characters, has ever received a theatrical release.

What was actually more surprising to me about this film was the number of straight black women who went to see it. My very straight family friend Brooke went to see it a grand total of four times, dragging friends to discover the quirky and fun world of Noah, Alex, Ricky and Chase. Of course, I had to ask her what about these gay, black men spoke to her - to the tune of $40.00 worth of movie tickets. Brooke disclosed that she never really knew gay people before (clearly I didn’t count) and certainly did not know they could be so “cool and interesting” (clearly I don’t count). I think what Brooke was really saying was that gay people that look like her had never been put in a “regular” context for her. I don’t mean three-piece suit or mowing their lawn in the suburbs regular, but struggling and loving and making mistakes like everyone else. That is what Polk’s film did for her.

Black LGBTQ filmmakers need to continue to add our stories to the film canon. Take the risk like Debra Wilson, Tina Mabry, and Cheryl Dunye of creating compelling, funny, outrageous narratives that allows us to see and celebrate ourselves, and ultimately for others to do the same. Don’t listen to the naysayers or negative nellies. Movies get made because someone believes the story must be told.

I, for one, recognize and embrace the power of film and its ability to shine light on unique stories or even promote tolerance. Look at how it has improved the PR for vampires.