Reviews of "Tupac: Resurrection,"
"The Matrix Revolutions," "The Human Stain," "Pieces of April" and "Scary Movie 3"

By Esther Iverem
SeeingBlack.com Editor and Film Critic

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The same camera presence and raw heart that made Tupac Shakur an artist to be reckoned with also makes "Tupac: Resurrection" an engaging, though somewhat drawn out and one-sided, narrative. On the positive side, it allows a young Black man to funnel important U.S. history of the 1980's and 1990's—including Reaganomics, crack and the widening gap between rich and poor—though his own urban sensibility. On the down side, by excluding "outside" voices, it presents a simplistic account of many controversial episodes in Tupac's life, such as his role in the molestation of a young woman, for which he served prison time, or earlier run-ins with the police in California.

We are also not confronted with Tupac's opportunism or the extent to which he may have encouraged hype and controversy to serve his career. Tupac possessed both star quality and troubling demons. He could be infectious then exasperating and—by his own admission—arrogant and egotistical to a fault. Like a favorite cousin, or big or little brother, he oozed with an endearing imperfect humanity, both in film and on stage. His frequent bouts of insane or stupid behavior could be dismissed by fans as byproducts of tortured genius. Then in September of 1996, he was shot to death—and his murder remains unsolved.

These highs and lows are handled with detail and sensitivity in the film, which was produced by MTV Films in collaboration with his mother, Afeni Shakur. A mother's touch is obvious here; the entire film is told largely in his own words, as opposed to the words of journalists, critics or even family or friends. When Tupac is not "speaking" through old audio or video footage, there are scenes from concerts or backstage clowning, or still images of him as a baby, young boy, teen-ager and, finally, as a young man haunted by poverty, paranoia and extreme anger.

As it recounts an important era in hip-hop, the rise of so-called gangsta rap, it does so from the eyes of the gangsta celebrity, which doesn't mean that the truth is totally glossed over. The producers include much footage of Tupac acting out, spitting at cameramen and defending his use of the terms "bitch" and "ho" to describe women. We are forced to live though all the juvenile hype and media manipulation all over again from that era when MTV made hip hop stars into Black "leaders," while, at the same time, further wresting of control of the music from the Black community.

As "Tupac: Ressurection" includes loads of MTV footage, especially of Tupac conducting an interview with a young, White woman while strolling along the boardwalk in Venice, California,' it is obvious to the media-savvy what is happening: MTV, the original mass disseminator of many of the images and messages about gangsta rap is back, 10 years later, to interpret and analyze for us, and present the final and "authorized" word on Tupac.

The Matrix Revolutions

"The Matrix Revolutions," the third and final installment in "The Matrix" trilogy, builds to a futuristic final conflict between good and evil, with a knock down-drag out battle between Neo, the savior of the world, and his arch-nemesis Agent Smith. In it, Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss), Niobi (Jada Pinkett Smith) and other remaining humans on earth try to save their underground city, Zion, from the ravenous and powerful machine world. Regardless of whether the "wow" special effects factor of the original "Matrix" has worn thin for you, this remains science fiction and fantasy filmmaking on a grand scale, both in technique and ideas.

To arrive at its big finale, the film connects a lot of dots from the first two films. And because of its complexity, with many jumps and shifts in the plot and extended dialogue, the first half might drag a bit for action fans. As in "The Matrix Reloaded," the filmmakers, the Wachowski Brothers, stop the mayhem for long periods and take time to talk. An elderly woman teaches a young girl to kneed cookie dough. A father talks to a stranger about saving his daughter's life. Agent Smith prattles on about the uselessness of human beings. Predictably, lovers declare their undying commitment to each other. This is all shot and stitched together to create a tapestry of apocalypse that might be more satisfying to those of us with longer attention spans.

Because Neo (Keanu Reeves) is the one with the power to save humanity, and because so much of the action switches to him and Agent Smith, portions of "The Matrix Revolutions" feel like a cyber version of an old-fashioned western, with the showdown at high noon between two White guys. Even so, this film series has been remarkable for its inclusion of a diversity of humanity in a futuristic setting. That diversity is even extended further this time with the Chinese attendant to the oracle taking on a greater role, a man from New Zealand featured as a fierce Zion soldier and the hint that the elderly African American oracle is passing on her vision to a young Indian girl.

The role of Morpheus, which helped attract many of us "The Matrix" in the first place, has decreased in importance as Neo has honed and developed his powers and as the script has highlighted the strengths of other people of color, particularly Niobi. In the beginning, Morpheus was the man, he was actually the one humans looked up to as they survived and searched for "the one." In the evolved story line and in the context of the bigger picture, Morpheus is viewed by many in Zion as a sort of an eccentric man of faith, a believer in doubtful miracles. The Wachowski Brothers resist this sort of tit-for-tat, however, in scenes between Neo and Morpheus. When ever they bring the two men together, the meeting is always one of mutual respect, with one always giving honor to the other.

That mutual respect, a last bit of raw humanity, is an important underlying strength of the Matrix series. In this world, where so much has been honed to a hard edge of metal or computer chip, where nothing is easy or predictable, respect, even between sworn and equally matched foes, keeps us wrapped up in the intrigue, keeps us wondering whether we will all be saved. (First published November15, 2003.)

The Human Stain

Even though the director, actors and writers of "The Human Stain" do protest such a characterization, this film is very much about a light-skinned Black man's rejection and hate of his Blackness. It is also about his overwhelming lust for White women, who dance nude across the screen as in some racist's vision of what a Black man's heaven would be. It is so lacking in sympathy or understanding of the connection between Black identity, pride and love—and so intent on raising up only the limits of Black oppression—that it is like a big glob of derision in the face of the Black community.

This unfortunate quality of the movie, which is very faithful to the novel by Philip Roth, is not readily apparent. It is so beautifully shot and skillfully directed by Robert Benton ("Kramer vs. Kramer," "Places in the Heart") that its derision sort of sneaks up on you, like a bad flashback to "Monsters' Ball" or the novel "White Teeth." But then little odd things are included, like a scene with a caged crow that "doesn't know how to be a crow," or another scene when the young very fair-skinned Black protagonist pummels a darker Black man in the boxing ring as if to knock out the Blackness in his very own soul.

In looking at such a complex and painful subject from outside the Black community and with no kinship with Blackness, "The Human Stain" layers these insults like a frothy white icing over very bitter chocolate. Roth, who learned of "passing" from a friend in graduate school, says of his main character Coleman Silk: "All he's ever wanted from earliest childhood on, was to be free, not Black, not even White – just on his own and free." This is a nice but somewhat naïve sentiment because the fact is that Roth created a character who equated that sought after freedom with being White. Silk ultimately equates his identity and being "on his own" with rejecting his racial heritage and identifying with a community that, in the 1940's when this novel is set, still viciously and systematically attacked his own.

Perhaps film critics aren't supposed to reveal Silk's "terrible secret" in the plot of "The Human Stain" but it is impossible to write about what works and what does not work in it without revealing this central aspect of the plot (and we know that SeeingBlack.com's readers care more about these issues than some faux standard for journalistic conduct). Also, to not talk about the racial dimensions of the film means that we also cannot discuss how the film handles race.

The story focuses on Silk (Anthony Hopkins), an eminent classics professor at a small liberal arts college in New England whose career is cut prematurely short when he is accused of bigotry. With his life suddenly in a shambles, he begins an affair with a young woman half his age who works at the college and at the local post office as a cleaning lady. She also milks cows in exchange for a room at a farm. The part of this down and out woman, who harbors demons and secrets of her own, is played by the delicate Nicole Kidman, who is about as believable as Spike Lee playing Shaquille O'Neal. There is something way off kilter in scale with this bit of casting.

On the other hand, Anna Deveare Smith delivers a very moving performance as Silk's mother, who , though fair-skinned, tries to instill in her son notions of race pride and solidarity, but to no avail, and who grapples, really, with the loss of her son. Though he is still living, it is as if her son has died. He tells his White girlfriends that he is an only child and that his parents are dead. The final meeting between Silk and his mother is as moving as the scene in "Antwone Fisher" between mother and son, only in "The Human Stain" it is the son who is guilty of abandonment.

I hesitate to use the word "guilty." Though Silk's life is referred to in this film as a "tragedy," the story works hard to absolve him of his choices, as if it is, of course, the most natural thing in the world for a Black man to want to be White, and as if he did not leave anything of value when he left his community. It sides with him against those who are silly enough to accuse him of bias. It acknowledges his self-hatred while, at the same time, ignoring all the possible consequences of that self-hatred. And, you know what? This story is true of some Black souls—we meet them now, even in a new century, but in the hands of Black people, their stories are clearly tragedies. As told here, the writers and director cheer on the iBlack man's "triumph" over group Black identity. They cry out to those who pass: Go ahead, free your inner White man!

Wow. What a definition of what it means to be free. (First published October 31, 2003.)

Pieces of April

Even as it ignores the stickier issues of interracial romance, "Pieces of April" offers so many moments that are genuine, funny and poignant that it is difficult to complain that it is just another movie asking us to sympathize with another story of crazy White folks.

But make no mistake, despite the inclusion of Derek Luke, (the star of Antwone Fisher), this is very much about the relationship between a young punked out White woman, April Burns (Katie Holmes), and her family. (A big hint: look at the promotional poster with Holmes all alone.) April, who lives with her boyfriend Bobby (Luke), has invited her family in New Jersey to their tiny apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan for Thanksgiving dinner. As she begins that morning to prepare what is obviously her first meal of this sort, possibly her first meal of any sort--as the oven is being used for storage--we are drawn to her mix of worldliness and innocence, her mix of utter ignorance and tenacity. The challenge she has given herself forces her to do something she obviously has not done--meet her neighbors, who make this day more of an education about family and humanity that April could have ever imagined.

At the same time, we meet her family as they prepare to travel into the city. Their journey is also a metaphorical one as the family also journeys through much drama about April's ailing mother, forgetful brother, persnickety sister, aging grandmother and weary father. As they roll along in their worn station wagon, they cover all their territory of their dysfunctional lives. The tension inside the car, between siblings, husband and wife, mothers and daughters--even when the daughter in question, April, is not present--is palpable. As April's mother, Joy, confronts her own illness and fragility, she confronts her own poor relationship with her eldest daughter of whom she speaks disparagingly throughout the trip. She cuts down the "horrible" meal they will likely eat while her husband Jim (Oliver Platt) tries to be optimistic and wants everyone to have a nice time..

In the third story thread, Luke gets some share of screen time as April shoos him from the house and he sets about on an important mission. While a fuller portrait is drawn of April and her family, we only catch glimpses of Bobby, who dotes on April and puts a lot of energy into buying decorations and knick knacks to spruce up their place for the dinner. He exists in a world painted here that is multicultural but, unlike in the Black community, void of open discussion about race. He plays the part of being just another one of April's questionable life choices. Luke is such a good actor that he infuses what little he is given with a lot of humanity. After the tour de force of "Antwone Fisher," he certainly deserves new scripts that allow him to be more than a paper doll. Hopefully more well-written stories about the Black experience will offer him that opportunity too. (First published October 24, 2003.)

Scary Movie 3

Even though the Scary Movie franchise has passed on to new hands—David Zucker, Brian Lynch and Craig Mazin--it is still as tacky as ever, only now the humor has veered in the direction of "Dumb, Dumber and Dumberer" and other White boy comedies. This switch simply means that in place of hip hop jokes about getting blunted, the new "Scary Movie 3" offers a beer commercial aesthetic. Consider early scenes when the twins from the Coors beer commercials, are front and center and shaking their assets.

From there, most of the humor only goes downhill, although with fewer Wayans-style scenes of cheesy sex or toilet acts. In the place of these, there is vomit, jokes about women's bodies, corpses and—really not funny to me—very flip abuse and violence against an admittedly obnoxious child.

Sure I laughed at portions of it, in the same way that you cackle at the antics of a toddler. I especially liked the Michael Jackson-styled fight-dance scene and I liked seeing comedian Anthony Andersen in a very bad wig. "Scary Movie 3" is actually its most successful when parodying recent movies such as "8 Mile," "The Matrix: Reloaded," "Signs" and "The Ring." Some of these, of course, like "8 Mile" and "The Matrix," really aren't scary but do allow the makers of "Scary Movie 3" to both ridicule and pay respect to recent cultural phenomena, such as the successful White rapper and the all-seeing Black female oracle.

I must confess to three things in reference to this film: I am a woman, a mother and I NEVER, NEVER liked "The Three Stooges." It seems to me that you need to like "Stooges" humor or the "dead baby" humor of a few years back, to appreciate many of the scenes here. It also seems to me that you must either be childless or cynical toward children to think that a child repeatedly hit by a car is funny. I do enjoy some things that other people consider violent. I have learned to appreciate a good fight, with or without martial arts. I sometimes watch boxing matches but seldom are they FUNNY to me.

Neither is the abuse of a corpse. During one scene in this flick, when the corpse of a Black female character is pummeled and then ripped to shreds, I couldn't help but think of a conversation I had with a friend after reviewing "Kill Bill." I told her about Uma Thurman as the great White hope, mowing down Vivica Fox and Lucy Liu. In response, she told me of the Entman-Rojecki Index of Race and Media. The duo published a wide-ranging study that documents that Black women are far more likely to be shown in a disparaging or violent manner than White women.

Well, in this movie, the scene where the corpse is torn to pieces, in part by Andersen's character in slavish allegiance to his White buddy, is so horrible that even many conditioned to always laugh were suddenly silent at the Washington, DC screening.

Okay, I can hear some saying, Gosh, It's only a movie. Some things are just a laugh. Yup. It sure is just a movie. But movies and images are powerful, and it doesn't hurt to stop and think about what and who is made into a joke. Sometimes the joke is on us. (First published October 24, 2003.)

— November 21, 2003

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