Killing Time #2: Eve’s Bayou

Killing Time is a series devoted to savaging deconstructing Richard Corliss’ list of the 25 Most Important Movies on Race.

To celebrate Black History Month, we’ve chosen 25 movies to honor the artistry, appeal and determination of African Americans on and behind the screen. The films span nine decades, and reveal a legacy that was tragic before it was triumphant. At first, blacks were invisible; when they were allowed to be seen, it was mostly as derisive comic relief. The 1950s ushered in the age of the noble Negro, in the imposing person of Sidney Poitier — the Jackie Robinson of movies. Only when Hollywood realized that a sizable black audience would pay to see films more reflective of their lives, whether funny, poignant or violent, were they given control of the means of production. Sometimes. The fact remains that of the 25 films here, chosen to cover the widest range of black films, fewer than half were directed by blacks.

It is difficult to express how much easier it was watching Eve’s Bayou than it was watching Madea’s Family Reunion. If you have seen both, then perhaps I don’t need to say a whole lot.

While I appreciate that Richard Corliss liked Eve’s Bayou, I don’t necessarily understand his rationale in putting this movie on the list.  As He says:

From the opening voice-over — “The summer I killed my father, I was 10 years old” — writer-director Kasi Lemmons‚ debut film weaves a spell of magnolia and menace. The 10-year-old is Eve (Jurnee Smollett), second daughter of Dr. Louis Batiste (Samuel L. Jackson) and his elegant wife Roz (Lynn Whitfield). Louis pushes charm as much as pills, and the local ladies swoon at his touch. “To a certain type of woman,” he notes, “I am a hero. I need to be a hero.” Eve and her 14-year-old sister Cisely (Meagan Good) need him to be one too, and when he proves a sinner, they are devastated. His crime may have been that he didn’t dance with Eve or that he danced too close to Cisely. But since Aunt Mozelle (Debbi Morgan) tells fortunes, Eve is a voodoo priestess once removed. Her curse on her daddy could be fatal.

In rural Louisiana in the ’60s, and in the humid swamps of the Southern Gothic imagination, tenderness and terror are first cousins destined to marry. Eve’s Bayou showed writer-director Kasi Lemmons invading Faulkner-McCullers territory and made it her own. This is a woman’s film, and a showcase for superb actresses, with Morgan outstanding as a sorceress whose gift runs away with her. There are a few visual and character cliches, and we wish that, just once in movies, a fortune teller’s dire prophecy would not automatically come true. But the folks here believe in its power, and they compel the viewer to abandon skepticism, to hide with Eve in the Batiste closet, where skeletons whisper vengeance. An indelible tale of childhood wonder and terror, and one of the finest works by a black filmmaker, Eve’s Bayou has a fierce poise that left me grateful, exhausted and nourished. For the restless spirit, here is true soul food.
Uh, Yeah.
I am glad he liked it.  But I am not exactly sure what it is that prompted him to add it to the list.
For my money, it adds a depth to the view of the Black Female, as there are various archetypes in several generations on  full display, along with the misogyny built into our culture.
But Richard Corliss wouldn’t know anything about that, since apparently he was too busy admiring the voodoo and the swamp.
Eve’s Bayou is one of the most underrated and unheralded Black Movies of the modern era precisely because of the fact that it is a distinctively Feminine Movie and the overall Black culture is uncomfortable with the notion of their world through a Black Woman’s eyes.
To Wit: Eve’s Bayou garnered SEVEN NAACP Image Award Nominations….it won exactly ZERO, Losing Best Picture to Soul Food.
But that wasn’t the true tragedy.
The TRUE tragedy was Jurnee Smollett losing to the kid in Soul Food.
Then again, if the NAACP image award panel can’t see it, how can we expect Richard Corliss to?

Killing Time #1: Madea’s Family Reunion

Killing Time is a series devoted to savaging  deconstructing Richard Corliss’ list of the 25 Most Important Movies on Race.

To celebrate Black History Month, we’ve chosen 25 movies to honor the artistry, appeal and determination of African Americans on and behind the screen. The films span nine decades, and reveal a legacy that was tragic before it was triumphant. At first, blacks were invisible; when they were allowed to be seen, it was mostly as derisive comic relief. The 1950s ushered in the age of the noble Negro, in the imposing person of Sidney Poitier — the Jackie Robinson of movies. Only when Hollywood realized that a sizable black audience would pay to see films more reflective of their lives, whether funny, poignant or violent, were they given control of the means of production. Sometimes. The fact remains that of the 25 films here, chosen to cover the widest range of black films, fewer than half were directed by blacks.

Everyone has their opinion on Tyler Perry, including me.

Today, I put that aside and attempted to watch the movie as though I had never seen anything he had ever done.

Let me first say that I will never forgive Richard Corliss for this.  When I committed myself to deconstructing this list, I did so without knowing what was on the list.  It never occured to me that I would be watching this movie.

I don’t have a lot to say about this movie.  I mean, I COULD go chapter and verse on the gory details on just how painful this was to watch, but that isn’t what this is supposed to be about.

The purpose of this exercise is to explore what possessed Mr. Corliss to place this movie on the list.

To quote Mr. Corliss:


Perry’s stuff is loud, sentimental, badgering — a gigantic gallimaufry of broad comedy, primal scream and (in the stage versions) musical numbers. The dramaturgy is part Neil Simon, part Oscar Micheaux that starts as wildly churning comedy, then stops in its tracks for a confession of spousal or child abuse. The music mixes elements of Dreamgirls and the Ebenezer Baptist Church choir; the tone is a violent blend of the earthy and the evangelical. Usually, the supporting players carry the melodrama, and Perry’s Madea — christened Mabel Simmons — shoulders the comedy.

 The movie version of Madea’s Family Reunion has an impressive cast, including Blair Underwood, Lynn Whitfield, Jenifer Lewis, Cicely Tyson and Maya Angelou. But you should get the DVD of the original play, both for the hoots and hollers of its live audience and because the shows, unlike the films, are essential musical drama-comedies. It’s when the characters launch into song, which they do seven or eight times a show, that these works sound most authentically black. The songs (by Perry and his musical director, Elvin Ross) are more than serviceable, ranging from R&B to Broadway to flat-out gospel. And some of the singers are extraordinary. For Family Reunion, Terry Phillips and D’Atra Hicks have a powerful reconciliation duet, toward the end of which Hicks pours out one note for 30 secs., escalating the passion and the ache with astonishing precision and intensity. It’s a seriously thrilling stopover in the pop-cultural express train that is Tyler Perry.

As  for me:

I guess If I dig deep into my anecdotal reservoir  of white privilege, I can see the purpose of including a work by Tyler Perry on this list.  Clearly, Mr. Corliss wanted to avoid the wrath of the TP masses that struck Roger Ebert on that fateful day 3 years ago.  

Mr. Corliss dishes out a smattering of backhanded praise in an attempt to justify the presence of this movie on the list.  If anything, I find the inclusion of this movie as opposed to other choices (even Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married?) symbolic of Mr. Corliss’ indifference to the actual quality of Black Cinema.

Regardless of the artistic merits, Tyler Perry has built up a track record on a commercial level that few can match.  More importantly, he makes the movies he makes on HIS terms and no one else’s.  We can disagree on the relative merits of what he makes, but there is no questioning that the vision is his own and it flows from his pen to the screen/stage completely unfiltered.

The movie is still a mess, the attempts of the actors and actresses notwithstanding.   Say what you want about any Tyler Perry Movie, he will unleash a torrent of Black talent.  Lynn Whitfield, Lisa Arrindell Anderson, Blair Underwood, were all exceptional, given the quality of script they had to work with.

But I survived it.  And Mrs. Ink did too, although she has submitted an invoice for the 2 hours of her life she will not get back.


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