Had Terence Nance’s Debut Been Released 20yrs Earlier He’d Be a Household Name
The 90s were a promising time for Black Filmmakers. Now, not so much so.
note: this is NOT a film review
I didn’t hear about the film via word of mouth. Nor do I remember reading it about it in Essence or Ebony Magazine. My brother, Isma’il Latif, said some artists were championing it on Twitter but I obviously wasn’t following them.
I found out about the “Oversimplification of Her Beauty” when I had to do a quality check viewing for it’s Blu-Ray/DVD release.
Ever the sceptic, I went in thinking, “yeah, yeah” but after the opening shots of Nance carrying wooden boards throughout MTA train stations (I’ve a train fetish) over Emily Kings’ “Every Part,” I was on board. By the end credits, I was bothered and I’ve been bothered since then.
Whenever I asked someone if they had seen the movie, the answer was almost assuredly “no.” And I know some pretty culturally astute people.
Why didn’t this artistically sound, confidently Black, film find a wider audience? We’ll look into that here as well as other questions surrounding Black films, art, and what we accept and promote but first we have to to go back to one of the most inspiring times for young, aspiring Black filmmakers — the 90s.
What? Dude was 19 and made a movie. I was 19. Sayyed Munajj was 18. Before we even saw “Straight Outta Brooklyn” we decided, “we can do that.” I changed my major from Political Science to Mass Media Arts with a concentration in film straightaway. I still remember the day we decided that we would make a movie (on our way to Cherry Creek Mall acting things out as we always did), the name of the film “Outta Your Nature,” and we even had two Black men that said they would finance us.
Of course that didn’t happen. Those “brothas” disappeared never to be seen or heard from again. And when we finally did see “Straight Outta Brooklyn” we had a triple dose of “we can do that.”
Matty Rich, the 19 year old wunderkind, loved to talk about how he taught himself filmmaking and the media loved to repeat it. None of it mattered to us. What mattered was a young brother had an idea to make a movie and now that film was being seen all across America. Matty Rich was on magazine covers, tons of newspaper articles were written about him, he was a phenomon.
(I) had to go out and do it because I was in pain. Because I was angry. Because I was frustrated. Because I was crying all the time. Every time I see someone in the black community in pain, the Ray Browns, the Dennis Browns, I feel I have to tell the story. Matty Rich
“Straight Outta Brooklyn” was released in select theaters so we didn’t get the wide release until around May. But before Matty Rich’s film was even out of the theaters, another film was released by a Black filmmaker.
It was clear to us from the very opening scene, that this was not the work of a “self-taught” filmmaker. John Singleton had chops. When “Boyz N The Hood” came out, I promise you, we shelled out cash at least three times to see it again and again and again. Living in Park Hill at the height of the gang wars, it was a story we could relate to and it was easy for us to identify someone we knew with each character — from Ricky to Doughboy.
Unlike Matty Rich’s film, “Boyz N The Hood,” was discouraging…not encouraging. Not only did his film have the great Lawrence Fishbourne and incomparable Angela Bassett, it had Ice Cube in a starring role and a budget of $7 million dollars. No way were we going to have all of that for our first movie.
John Singleton went to USC. John Singleton had an agent. John Singleton lived in Los Angeles and pitched his movie all over town eventually striking gold with then, script reader of Columbia Pictures, Stephanie Allain. Allain passed it on to Amy Pascal. And Pascal made sure that Frank Price, the chairman of Columbia Pictures at the time, read the script over the weekend.
I was profoundly moved by his portrayal of the lives of three young men in South Central L.A. His script gave me insight into their hopes and dreams that they clung to as they faced the often grim events of life around them… …Why wouldn’t enough of the American public identify with the story of an inner-city family told in such a compelling, insightful way? Frank Price, former chairman of Columbia Pictures
That was all so-Cali and so out of reach. But it was a Black film. Written by a Black man, who directed it, who had his film shown at Cannes, who was nominated for Best Screenplay and Best Director. Nah, we couldn’t relate. But the man who started it all (for us) was also back that summer with a film.
Long before we even knew about the film, those “Fever” hats started popping up all over campus. Spike Lee excelled at marketing in those days making his 40 Acres and a Mule clothing and accessories hot and hard to find items (for non-New Yorkers).
Growing up the son of a struggling Jazz musician, Lee vowed early on that his focus would be equally on business as it was art. “Jungle Fever,” Spike’s fifth film, was no exception.
As we mentioned in The Making of Spike Lee Into An Angry Black Man, Spike made it all seem possible. His shoestring budgeted art-house film, “She’s Gotta Have It,” inspired more Black filmmakers than they care to admit.
To see Spike go from independent filmmaker to one that had a deal with Universal, putting out back to back films — yeah, that was a model that many of us desired to be like.
The next few years would see the emergence of the Hughes Brother, F. Gary Gray, actor Vondie-Curtis Hall, etc. The last Black filmmaker to make it through the cracks would make one film that, despite being loved and adored by damn near every Black person I know, did only marginal numbers at the box office. The filmmaker we’re talking about is Theodore Witcher and the film that was his debut is “Love Jones.”
Like many filmmakers, Witcher got his start young when he convinced his parents to buy him a Super 8 camera. He shot actions scenes with his friends and learned the craft of filmmaking. After graduating from Chicago’s Columbia Film school, Witcher eventually got a script to the Hughes brothers.
That contact got him an audience with New Line executives that didn’t bite on his action ideas but loved his romantic film pitch. The studio agreed to a $7 million budget (seemed to be the going rate), they were okay with Witcher directing…and “love jones” was born.
Like most Black films, wide release only translated into 821 theaters. (To better understand that, a comedy like “The Truth about Cats and Dogs, opened in 1,654 theaters…almost 400 more theaters than the epic “Malcolm X”)
“love jones” had people spouting Spoken Word and proclaiming their love for jazz…really John Coltrane and Duke Ellington’s “In a Sentimental Mood”…but hey, you know us.
In order for a film to be deemed a success it simply has to recoup it’s cost. “Love Jones” did that, made $12 million, but that was still seen as a disappointment. Witcher, as of this writing, has yet to make another movie.
Come 1998, the Black filmmaker bubble seemed to bust. When Christopher Scott Cherot wrote, produced, directed, starred in, and edited “Hav Plenty,” there wasn’t much buzz about the film. That, despite the back story of him driving cabs and his mother mortaging her home to finance the film. Still it’s widest release was 413 theaters and it barely made $2 million dollars.
Early aughts had movies like “Love & Basketball” by Gina Prince-Bythewood, “Drumline” by Charles Stone III. (“The Best Man” came out in 1999), mainstream movies that appeared out thin air.
Tons of Black films came out in the early 2000s but the only way you would know is by scouring the Blockbuster Video’s Black section where our usual response was, “I didn’t know — insert actor or director here — made a movie.”
Most of these films were uninspiring. They were the usual takes on either the romantic comedy or the hood movie — straight to video type action.
There were some standouts.
Although I wasn’t particularly a fan, “A Good Day to Be Black and Sexy,” which only had a one week, one theater engagement, still made enough noise for people to talk about it. The director, Dennis Dortch would later go on to be more known for his web series, “The Couple,” a comedic series based on the ins and outs of relationships.
Barry Jenkins’ “Medicine for Melancholy” a movie about the day after a one night stand, was a breath of fresh air in 2009. The film, small in scope, was very much the same as Richard Linklater’s “Before Sunrise,” albeit in San Francisco and not Europe; a man and woman learn each other as they explore the city.
Eight years later, Jenkins has finally made another feature. “Moonlight,” a film based on New York Times’ darling, playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney’s “In the Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue,” which is slated for a Fall 2016 release. The back story alone makes for good press…but I have yet to see a trailer, magazine spot, or nada.
Let me say for the record — what I’m talking about, Terence Nance being a household name — may be the furthest thing from his mind. He’s from a different generation and may have no desire to be turned into the spokesperson for all Black people or made the angry Black man; the only two options for the “famous” Black man.
My sole purpose in writing this is that I feel that “Oversimplification of Her Beauty” should be seen by as many Black folk as possible. That’s it.
And it’s not a conventional film by any stretch of the word. A mix between a film short, animation, live footage, home movies, additional work (that compliments the short), steady narration, and limited dialogue, “Oversimplification…” might be a challege for the attention impaired.
But it shouldn’t be.
Because of all that I mentioned above, “Oversimplification…” is totally engaging. I alway maintain that no matter how unconventional a film may be, structure wise, the good movies still deliver the goods in a certain time frame. This is no exception.
If you are intrigued by the first ten minutes, you’ll likely stick around for the rest of the movie, feeling like you are in good hands. “Oversimplification…” after that enjoyable intro that I mentioned above, lays out a question, “How would you feel” and returns to that question at least three times, after providing the viewers with more detail between each question. The repetitiveness reminds me of a technique used in churches and many other forms of African expression, by the time the question was asked for the third time, I was thoroughly entertained.
A filmmaker needs to simply keep your interest those first thirty minutes and if you are still involved, then the story can be laid out. In this case, Nance walks us through the character’s previous love interest and why nothing ever became of those relationships.
Quick shots and a name tag reveal these women, and what women! It’s clear that Nance is a lover of Black women, not one particular kind or type either, but a wide spans of them. This is totally refreshing. Sometimes, for “good measure,” a joke, or pandering, a filmmaker would throw either a white or Asian woman in, you know, to break up all that Blackness. But not Nance.
Even the lead actress, Namik Minter, is indicative of the Black women that I know and love. Her hair shifts from being straightened to curly, she has full lips, dark skin, incredibly articulate and observant, and not easily catergorized. These are the type of women I want to see on the screen.
Despite all the tricks and razzle dazzle, “Oversimplification of Her Beauty” develops it’s story, is forward moving, and entertaining from opening to end credits. But most importantly for me, as a lover of cinema, what I admire the most about Terence Nance’s debut is we see that Nance has what most filmmakers struggle their whole career to find — Nance has a voice. What that translates into is unique and original art, something that should definitely be promoted and celebrated.
When we’re told about the Ava DuVernays or the Ryan Cooglers the stories are always the overnight success stories, rarely is there any depth provided to how they got their start and the struggles they went through to become filmmakers.
Before DuVernay was the highly acclaimed, award winning dynamo of “Selma” fame, she was a publicist who developed her chops making the seminal documentary, “This is the Life,” a film about the Good Life Cafe rap scene of the early to mid 90s. DuVernay’s self-financed first feature, “I Will Follow,” was released in 2011, played in 21 theaters, and was gone in seven weeks. Her next feature, “Middle of Nowhere,” followed a similar route. “Middle..” played in 25 theaters and likely was out on DVD in nine weeks.
By the time “Selma” rolls around, Duvernay is 42 years old and an experienced filmmaker — hardly an overnight success.
While Coogler’s story is closer to convention — film school, student film winning awards, gaining backing at a festival, making a small film before going on to make a major feature — when it comes to Black filmmakers nothing is a given.
There was more press denigrating the fact that Coogler humanized Oscar Grant in his debut “Fruitvale Station,” than press describing his subtle, deft directing. There was very little if any celebratory coverage on this young writer, director handling such an explosive topic with great maturity.
It was Coogler’s handling of Sylvester Stallone and the “Rocky” series in “Creed” that garnered that critical regard. But like “Selma,” ain’t no young, aspiring filmmaker gonna see “Creed” and think, “I can do that.” Certainly no one will think that after they see “Black Panther,” Coogler’s next film.
The reality of it is, unless you’re making a sequel or comic movie, it’s hard for anyone to make a movie. But you add being Black to that equation and it’s an almost impossible task.
John Singleton caught flack for speaking out on it recently, where he said:
They want black people [to be] what they want them to be. And nobody is man enough to go and say that. They want black people to be who they want them to be, as opposed to what they are. The black films now — so-called black films now — they’re great. They’re great films. But they’re just product. They’re not moving the bar forward creatively. … When you try to make it homogenized, when you try to make it appeal to everybody, then you don’t have anything that’s special. John Singleton
and in a revealing interview, Theodore Witcher had this to say:
The underlying systemic challenges still persist: 1) the international market, because most non-studio films are financed by foreign presales, which is connected to 2) the appalling lack of stars. And by “star” I mean an actor whose participation alone achieves or greatly assists in getting the movie financed, either at a studio or independently. The pool is still very small, embarrassingly small. At the elite level of global distribution, there remain the same two gentlemen — Will Smith and Denzel Washington — that we’ve had for twenty years. And no women. Theodore Witcher
Add to that Gina Prince-Bythewood’s criticism of Netflix propensity to lump any film with a majority Black cast together despite subject matter, setting, or genre and it becomes that more clear why we don’t hear about “random Black director” making an “art film.”
My brother, Elpadaro Allah will tell you, “He don’t like nothing.” So me championing something is a rarity. But who am I? If the involvement of Wyatt Cenac, dream hampton, Questlove and the arbiter of cool, Jay Z ain’t make more Black folk know Terence Nance what will my little Medium post do? If you haven’t stumbled on Nance on one of your TED talk binges, what kind of exposure am I giving?
Hopefully I’ll encourage my friends and their friends friends to have an open mind and take in the art that is “Oversimplification of Her Beauty” and if you’re Flying Lotus fans your bonus is you can hear music of his that you never heard before.
As a people we celebrate the latest hood story, live tweet reality shows and then get upset when Hollywood depicts us stereotypically.
Unlike when “She’s Gotta Have It” became a calling card that propelled Spike Lee from indy to institution, too often Black filmmakers are one and done and the likelihood of seeing a cover like this, during the summer no less, may never happen again…unless we back our own. But that’s another post for another day.
