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Eriq Ebouaney never earned the acclaim he deserved
for his role as Congo's first democratically elected
prime minister in Lumumba.
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One question comes to mind after watching the 74th Annual Academy Awards. Honorary fly guy Robert Redford berated Hollywood for not offering enough chances to the black folks and other diverse participants in the dream factory. But where are all the minorities in Redford's own work? On screen, Redford's buddies and ladies are a reflection of white America and its ideals. Redford himself is equated with sunny, sturdily handsome backlit old-fashioned movie star appeal. He's the rugged figure, the leader in the white hat, the law, the order, a symbol of power and grace. Redford is The Natural.
Some people probably believe that Oscar host Whoopi Goldberg's on-air comments about Redford spoke to black folks' inability to relate to this world or its attitudes. That assumption is wrong. When Whoopi made fun of Out of Africa, the joke really was on Redford, who has created an outlet for alternative filmmaking which can be viewed as nothing more than a ghetto.
The Sundance Institute, the home of Independent American Cinema, is a prestigious ghetto. But it's a ghetto just the same.
It's just as troubling to ask where were all the white folks influenced by Sidney Poitier. The heavy-handedness of the color-coding became even more apparent when Poitier spoke of those who took a chance on him during those dark days when casting him was not only a gamble but also the longest of shots.
Poitier clearly belongs to all of us. It would have been nice to have that acknowledged a bit more upfront in his celebrity testimonial reel. Why is it, when Julia Roberts embraces Best Actor winner Denzel Washington onstage, she appears to be the only white person to openly cross the color lines?
The way I see things, it's all about the gatekeepers.
Spike Lee, speaking at a recent address to students at the University of Toledo, talked about directors and studios as gatekeepers who exert powerful control over product and thus the opportunities afforded to black actors. Without access to roles worthy of award consideration, black Hollywood will surely be waiting until the 114th Annual Academy Awards -- or beyond -- for another chance to take the stage without a sealed envelope and prepared lines from a TelePrompTer.
By then, it'll be time for Halle Berry to receive an honorary golden boy. Shemight never have the chance to acquire a golden companion for her lonely fella.
The gatekeepers are everywhere. Why does Raoul Peck's extraordinary film, Lumumba, a little-seen title on the life and death of the Congo's first democratically elected prime minister, fail to gain any recognition from Academy voters or other awards groups? Why hasn't Eriq Ebouaney's award-worthy lead performance as Lumumba gained more recognition? Instead, the epic struggle between A Beautiful Mind and Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring dominated not only the category but the whole awards season.
Even breezy entertainment like Ocean's 11 failed to truly flip its script by casting Don Cheadle in one of the roles played by either Brad Pitt or Matt Damon. It would be too much to ask or assume that Cheadle be considered worthy to fill the Chairman's shoes as Danny Ocean; far better to leave the heavy lifting to George Clooney. Despite such quibbles, Cheadle has a presence that demands a featured role in Ocean's 11, not a bit player who needs an accent to stand out.
The gatekeepers can be found on films where you least expect to find them. The writers of Ali missed out on a possibly golden opportunity by not focusing on the relationship between Ali and Howard Bingham, the photojournalist who served as the public's eye on Ali the man.
By trying to capture the signs of the times and not the man and his subject, Ali remains a series of snapshots that never achieves the promise of any individual picture's worth. A further, deeper blunder of the film was in casting, and then wasting, the talented Jeffrey Wright in the role of Bingham. Giving Wright a larger role would have elevated Will Smith's game even more.
There are gatekeepers in the media as well. The journalists and critics stand guard over the stories being told about the nature of the business. Unfortunately, black media outlets must shoulder a share of the responsibility when it comes to lack of hard, investigative reporting and commentary on Hollywood's creative blockade against black performers.
In its April 2002 Hollywood issue, Savoy magazine talks to producer/casting director Reuben Cannon about the possibility of developments that could change the industry. Cannon offers up the example of black stars coming together to create a collective reminiscent of United Artists or the Steven Soderbergh/David Fincher led directors group trying to get off the ground. But he dismisses the notion quickly.
"There's no black unity in Hollywood," is his refrain. Still, a short list of black power players -- Spike Lee, Oprah Winfrey, Quincy Jones, Babyface and Tracey Edmonds -- speaks to the potential for a union similar to Dreamworks SKG. Who will step forward and create this more perfect union?
This idea isn't simply about black or white Hollywood. This could amount to a paradigm shift in the industry. When solicited for assistance on a story on this topic, Jeffrey Wells of Reel.com said, "I could write 10,000 words of just the maybes. You have to be out here is all I'll say. Good idea, though."
Spoken like a true gatekeeper. The best question of all might be, considering his position and proximity, why hasn't Wells written the story? ©
