deerstalker
https://blackgirlnerds.com/cult-classics-no-slapstick-just-humor-and-pathos-in-men-in-black/
Say what you will about Will Smith, but you can’t deny that the man is really damn charming.
I mean, I’m talking “leading man” charming. “Can never play the bad guy” charming. “Commit battery and still be considered the hero” charming.
Don’t worry, that will be the first and last reference to that whole thing in this article (maybe). We have some great commentary here if you want to revisit that thing that happened, what was it? Two years ago? It feels like two years.
Anyway. You should watch Men in Black. Now. If you’ve been struggling with liking Will Smith recently, this film will remind you why we’ve loved him for over three decades, minus a week or two.
If you need proof of Smith’s endless charisma and magnetic personality, imagine the world where David Schwimmer had played Agent Jay. Sure, the film would’ve been fine, and legions of Friends fans would likely have made it a box office hit. But I don’t know that we’d want to revisit it even five years after its release. All due respect to Schwimmer, but, in that alternate timeline, Men in Black would’ve had the staying power of our universe’s Men in Black II.
Thankfully, we get this film instead, where Smith and co-star Tommy Lee Jones have excellent chemistry as a duo, quiet star power on their own, and comedic timing so perfect that I laughed out loud often.
On its surface, Men in Black is a sci-fi/comedy about an uptight governmental agency tasked with keeping the existence of aliens among us a secret. Beneath that, however, is a story about regret and the changing faces of government and law enforcement.
When it comes to acting and mood, director Barry Sonnenfeld and screenwriter Ed Solomon know that every moment doesn’t need a laugh. They know that to root for these characters, we must actually know who they are. For example, take the scene where Agent Kay shoots Jeebs (Tony Shalhoub).
When Kay first pulls a gun on Jeebs, Jay still believes Kay is a federal agent with a scoop about Jeebs’ illegal arms dealing. Jay even plays Good Cop to Kay’s Bad Cop while the latter menaces Jeebs in an interrogation. Yet, when Kay counts to three and seemingly blows Jeebs’ head off, Jay drops the act and attempts to arrest his fellow law enforcement officer.
Now, imagine this scene played another way. Imagine, instead of caring about the apparent murder he’s just witnessed, Jay just says “Damn” in a humorous, Smithian way. Or he jokes that Jeebs should’ve listened to him when he said Kay was crazy. Or he does any of the other myriad tired tropes we’ve seen in a billion previous scripts.
It might be funny, but it’d make our co-lead and audience surrogate seem like a sociopath. Kay knows Jeebs’ head will reform in a moment, but Jay doesn’t. Instead of easy jokes, we get Jay’s characterization as a cop who’s committed to justice, even when those breaking the law are seemingly on his side of the so-called thin blue line.
Later, when the scene ends with Jay impotently threatening to come back and talk to Jeebs about Jeebs’ collection of stolen goods, the laugh is earned because we know he’s not an idiot or an oblivious jerk; he’s an average person attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy in the face of the extraordinary.
Speaking of Jones’ portrayal of Kay, I know no actor ever wants to be typecast, but please, Hollywood, don’t ever let Jones play anything except the straight man in any comedy duo. I know he has fun hamming it up every now and again, but he knows exactly how to handle being a laid-back foil for his more exuberant co-stars.
Importantly, he never plays these characters as humorless or heartless, but as people with dry wit and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it vulnerability. As far as humor goes, check out the scene where Jay says “I don’t want nobody calling me ‘son’ or ‘kid’ or ‘sport.’” Kay fires back, “Cool. Whatever you say, slick,” then continues his spiel. How do you describe that scene as anything other than perfect comic timing from both leads? You can’t. Only a liar or someone amid of a delusion could.
Elsewhere, Jones evokes all of our pity for him in a sequence where he uses satellite imagery to look in on a former lover and think about what could’ve been. When Smith’s Jay catches him in the act and jokes that it’s better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all, an exasperated Kay rubs his brow, holds his tongue, then simply says, “Try it,” before walking away. When Jones’ character later ends up with this woman, it doesn’t feel like an overly-sentimental ending but more like a well-deserved character arc.
Of course, the film has its problems and lapses of logic.
It’s surely been joked about before, but, seriously, are we to accept that there can only be 26 agents in the English-speaking Men in Black divisions? Because they apparently only use single-letter designators without numerical qualifiers.
Then there’s the idea that the MiB must be covert at all times, yet they will do things like shooting a UFO down over Shea Stadium or zip through the Midtown Tunnel in a rocket car. There’s the question of whether the Bug (Vincent D’Onofrio) also took Edgar’s vocal cords along with his skin because he could only speak inside the suit. And, even then, his actual head was tucked somewhere deep down in Edgar’s torso, so how was he seeing or hearing anything that was going on?
Tommy Lee Jones allegedly told writer Ed Solomon that the screenplay had to either be a comedy or a science-fiction. He clearly didn’t know that the mind behind Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure can make sci-fi/comedy hybrids so spectacular and funny that we largely eschew such nagging questions.
In the end, the film quietly becomes about the changing face of government and law enforcement. Yes, we can have a conversation about police abolition and the efficacy of putting marginalized peoples in charge of institutions founded on white supremacy.
But, as an allegory, this 1997 film makes the argument that the times are changing, and soon men of color and (white) women would take the places previously held by old white men. And it does this without ever mentioning a word about it. While this was probably not the intended nor primary message (I’m not sure Schwimmer’s casting would have quite gotten that point across), it’s still an interesting theme one can discover within the film.
Men in Black is just damn fun. The cast is perfect, Rick Baker’s alien effects are chef’s kiss, and the movie’s runtime makes sure the film doesn’t overstay its welcome.
If you’re still feeling some type of way about Will Smith and his infamous slap, investigate why this incident has you so pressed, boil some tea, then put on this movie.
If his performance in this still doesn’t win you back, you’re either dumb, dead inside, or Chris Rock.
Say what you will about Will Smith, but you can’t deny that the man is really damn charming.
I mean, I’m talking “leading man” charming. “Can never play the bad guy” charming. “Commit battery and still be considered the hero” charming.
Don’t worry, that will be the first and last reference to that whole thing in this article (maybe). We have some great commentary here if you want to revisit that thing that happened, what was it? Two years ago? It feels like two years.
Anyway. You should watch Men in Black. Now. If you’ve been struggling with liking Will Smith recently, this film will remind you why we’ve loved him for over three decades, minus a week or two.
If you need proof of Smith’s endless charisma and magnetic personality, imagine the world where David Schwimmer had played Agent Jay. Sure, the film would’ve been fine, and legions of Friends fans would likely have made it a box office hit. But I don’t know that we’d want to revisit it even five years after its release. All due respect to Schwimmer, but, in that alternate timeline, Men in Black would’ve had the staying power of our universe’s Men in Black II.
Thankfully, we get this film instead, where Smith and co-star Tommy Lee Jones have excellent chemistry as a duo, quiet star power on their own, and comedic timing so perfect that I laughed out loud often.
On its surface, Men in Black is a sci-fi/comedy about an uptight governmental agency tasked with keeping the existence of aliens among us a secret. Beneath that, however, is a story about regret and the changing faces of government and law enforcement.
When it comes to acting and mood, director Barry Sonnenfeld and screenwriter Ed Solomon know that every moment doesn’t need a laugh. They know that to root for these characters, we must actually know who they are. For example, take the scene where Agent Kay shoots Jeebs (Tony Shalhoub).
When Kay first pulls a gun on Jeebs, Jay still believes Kay is a federal agent with a scoop about Jeebs’ illegal arms dealing. Jay even plays Good Cop to Kay’s Bad Cop while the latter menaces Jeebs in an interrogation. Yet, when Kay counts to three and seemingly blows Jeebs’ head off, Jay drops the act and attempts to arrest his fellow law enforcement officer.
Now, imagine this scene played another way. Imagine, instead of caring about the apparent murder he’s just witnessed, Jay just says “Damn” in a humorous, Smithian way. Or he jokes that Jeebs should’ve listened to him when he said Kay was crazy. Or he does any of the other myriad tired tropes we’ve seen in a billion previous scripts.
It might be funny, but it’d make our co-lead and audience surrogate seem like a sociopath. Kay knows Jeebs’ head will reform in a moment, but Jay doesn’t. Instead of easy jokes, we get Jay’s characterization as a cop who’s committed to justice, even when those breaking the law are seemingly on his side of the so-called thin blue line.
Later, when the scene ends with Jay impotently threatening to come back and talk to Jeebs about Jeebs’ collection of stolen goods, the laugh is earned because we know he’s not an idiot or an oblivious jerk; he’s an average person attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy in the face of the extraordinary.
Speaking of Jones’ portrayal of Kay, I know no actor ever wants to be typecast, but please, Hollywood, don’t ever let Jones play anything except the straight man in any comedy duo. I know he has fun hamming it up every now and again, but he knows exactly how to handle being a laid-back foil for his more exuberant co-stars.
Importantly, he never plays these characters as humorless or heartless, but as people with dry wit and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it vulnerability. As far as humor goes, check out the scene where Jay says “I don’t want nobody calling me ‘son’ or ‘kid’ or ‘sport.’” Kay fires back, “Cool. Whatever you say, slick,” then continues his spiel. How do you describe that scene as anything other than perfect comic timing from both leads? You can’t. Only a liar or someone amid of a delusion could.
Elsewhere, Jones evokes all of our pity for him in a sequence where he uses satellite imagery to look in on a former lover and think about what could’ve been. When Smith’s Jay catches him in the act and jokes that it’s better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all, an exasperated Kay rubs his brow, holds his tongue, then simply says, “Try it,” before walking away. When Jones’ character later ends up with this woman, it doesn’t feel like an overly-sentimental ending but more like a well-deserved character arc.
Of course, the film has its problems and lapses of logic.
It’s surely been joked about before, but, seriously, are we to accept that there can only be 26 agents in the English-speaking Men in Black divisions? Because they apparently only use single-letter designators without numerical qualifiers.
Then there’s the idea that the MiB must be covert at all times, yet they will do things like shooting a UFO down over Shea Stadium or zip through the Midtown Tunnel in a rocket car. There’s the question of whether the Bug (Vincent D’Onofrio) also took Edgar’s vocal cords along with his skin because he could only speak inside the suit. And, even then, his actual head was tucked somewhere deep down in Edgar’s torso, so how was he seeing or hearing anything that was going on?
Tommy Lee Jones allegedly told writer Ed Solomon that the screenplay had to either be a comedy or a science-fiction. He clearly didn’t know that the mind behind Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure can make sci-fi/comedy hybrids so spectacular and funny that we largely eschew such nagging questions.
In the end, the film quietly becomes about the changing face of government and law enforcement. Yes, we can have a conversation about police abolition and the efficacy of putting marginalized peoples in charge of institutions founded on white supremacy.
But, as an allegory, this 1997 film makes the argument that the times are changing, and soon men of color and (white) women would take the places previously held by old white men. And it does this without ever mentioning a word about it. While this was probably not the intended nor primary message (I’m not sure Schwimmer’s casting would have quite gotten that point across), it’s still an interesting theme one can discover within the film.
Men in Black is just damn fun. The cast is perfect, Rick Baker’s alien effects are chef’s kiss, and the movie’s runtime makes sure the film doesn’t overstay its welcome.
If you’re still feeling some type of way about Will Smith and his infamous slap, investigate why this incident has you so pressed, boil some tea, then put on this movie.
If his performance in this still doesn’t win you back, you’re either dumb, dead inside, or Chris Rock.
As a teenage girl in the early 2010s, I was the prime target audience for the teen vampire romance mania. I loved everything Twilight, devoured the Vampire Academy books, and secretly watched True Blood when I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to. So, when The Vampire Diaries premiered, you know I was a loyal weekly watcher — especially because of the promise that teenage witch Bonnie Bennett (Kat Graham) held for me.
I thought: finally, a Black girl in the main cast of a supernatural romance series! Before the show premiered, I wondered which guy Bonnie would get and how exciting her adventures would be. Unfortunately, I, along with everyone else, realized soon enough how disappointing Bonnie’s storylines and those of the other characters of color were.
The Vampire Diaries or TVD continued the tradition of TV shows and movies tokenizing their Black and minority characters. TVD is one in a long line of shows that are notorious for the way they treat their minorities as one-dimensional, as jokes, or as scapegoats, or for just plain killing them off when the writers no longer know what to use them for, with them doing Bonnie Bennett the dirtiest.
TVD ran from 2009 to 2017 on the CW. The CW has made a name for itself in the teen drama genre providing us with such pop-culture classics as Gilmore Girls, Gossip Girl, and One Tree Hill. TVD‘s neglect of their Black characters speaks to a larger problem with how the CW represented minorities as a whole in the early 2000s and 2010s.
TVD opens with 17-year old Elena (Nina Dobrev) on the first day of school, dealing with the grief of losing her parents in a car crash the year before. In true 2010s vampire romance fashion, new student and 100+-year-old vampire Stefen (Paul Wesley) falls for her gloomy and morbid disposition. So begins the 8-year-long story of love, danger, and vampires in the town of Mystic Falls. In similar 2010s fashion, among the main cast there is only one person of color: Bonnie Bennett.
The Missed Opportunity of Bonnie Bennett
TVD had a large cast of main characters, within which was the core girl group that consisted of Bonnie, Elena, and Caroline (Candice King). Bonnie’s relationship with these girls was one of the high points of the entire show. However, it was made clear from the first few episodes which two branches of this three-person friend group would be favored by the story.
The first thing I noticed about Bonnie’s character that made it clear that she was not favored by the writers compared to the rest of the cast was just how often she disappeared from the story entirely. Most often, the reason for her absence is brushed off with a brief line about her visiting family we’ve never seen or heard about. One would think that this was due to the actor having scheduling issues or other obligations conflicting with filming, but no. She comes in and out of the plot as needed because the writers just didn’t know what to do with her.
Bonnie is a powerful witch, you might even say overpowered too quickly, and is used primarily as a scapegoat whenever the writers back themselves into a corner. If a problem or villain cannot be defeated within the logic of the episode, here comes Bonnie, back from her mysterious extended family retreat to save the day with powers we didn’t know she had and never saw developed.
Not only were her powers muddled and poorly thought through, but her personal life was as well. One could argue that a major part of the appeal of TVD is to live vicariously through the girls who are dating these hot Halloween monsters. And, I’m not going to lie, that was a big draw for me at 14.
In that vein, Elana has three love interests and Caroline has a total of six, all of which are main characters with their own full storylines apart from their involvement with the girls. On the other hand, Bonnie gets five love interests over the series, most of which are introduced solely as being a boyfriend for Bonnie. One of them is even her stepbrother! These guys would always get inexplicably killed off soon after they were introduced. Bonnie gets left with underdeveloped characters who die episodes after we meet them.
We could have had many more interesting storylines with Bonnie’s training as a young witch, her turmoil about going against her nature in helping or fighting the vampires of the town, and her dealing with actually intriguing relationship drama. Instead, her character was a huge wasted opportunity.
At Least They Tried…Right?
To continue with the theme of Bonnie being neglected by the TVD team, the actor who played her, Kat Graham, has even said in a vlog for Vogue that she asked if her character could wear her hair naturally, but the idea was shot down by producers. This is the reason for the seemingly endless amount of busted wigs Bonnie wears. To add insult to injury, her costar Nina Dobrev got hair extensions and good wig installations whenever she was tasked with playing Elana’s evil doppelganger, Katherine. So why couldn’t Bonnie have gotten the same treatment?
On top of all of this, the majority of the show is set in Virginia in the fictional town of Mystic Falls — a town that has historically deep ties to the Confederacy and regularly throws Antebellum parties and balls.
All of the Black characters are either related (see again Bonnie dating her step-brother!), witches, or slaves (called “handmaidens” and “footmen” to make their presence in the flashbacks more palatable).
I’m not saying that TVD is high art that deeply fleshes out its other main characters with nuance and thoughtfulness. It’s the CW. But, the characters of color, Bonnie in particular, are treated as one-dimensional, whereas her white counterparts are paid much more attention.
The hardest part is that most of Bonnie’s storylines are the most compelling in the series. In later seasons her personality shines through more, and I wish she would have gotten the attention she deserved.
April 7, 2022.
This date may not mean much to many Americans, but it is significant for one key demographic: Black women.
It was the first time since the Supreme Court was first assembled in 1790, that a Black woman stepped into a role that only 115 other people in our history had the honor of serving. It was the first time a Black woman would become only the 6th woman to pick up the mantle as an Associate Justice.
It was the first time in American history when women were a mere seat away from holding the majority in our Supreme Court. It was the first time that Black women across America would see a woman who mirrored their complexion, hair texture, and beautiful features in the highest court of the land.
It was indeed a historic day for all Americans, and it was an especially tender moment for Black women.
In a society where Black women are still discriminated against for their hairstyles, I think it is safe to say that this was ALL of us when Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson was officially confirmed…
At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel like this was me at work…
I was disappointed by the lack of acknowledgment and discussion regarding this historic decision as the day progressed.
Was it just me?? This was a HUGE DAY, RIGHT?!
But then I looked around my office and was quickly reminded that it really was JUST ME.
Tragic.
This should have been a day of celebration! Yet, yesterday felt a little underwhelming. It was as if Black women’s achievements and contributions were, once again, being undervalued. Jackson’s appointment meant that our Supreme Court would be represented by more people who could relate and speak to the everyday experiences faced by America’s most vulnerable.
To quote Judith Browne Davis, Executive Director of the Advancement Project: “The highest court in the land now will have a firsthand perspective of how the law impacts communities of color — via voting rights, police misconduct, abortion access, housing discrimination, or the criminal legal system, among other issues,” she said. “This will ultimately benefit all Americans.”
Finally!
Although her journey with SCOTUS has just begun, it’s encouraging to know Jackson could bring more diverse perspectives to a court that remains the second least diverse branch of government (no shade, but all the shade to the executive branch).
Let’s explore one of the incredible opportunities that have opened up for Black women now that Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson has been confirmed: THE CROWN ACT!
The CROWN Act was inspired by decades, if not centuries, of discrimination that women of the African diaspora have experienced in Western societies. What started as a multigenerational, cultural movement evolved into the fruition of a law that would be responsible for “creating a respectful and open world for natural hair” — from which the acronym “CROWN” is derived.
This law “prohibits race-based hair discrimination, which is the denial of employment and educational opportunities because of hair texture or protective hairstyles including braids, locs, twists or bantu knots.” Now, pause and take a moment to think about what Jackson’s appointment symbolizes for millions of Black girls and women across the country and what it means for you.
For all the queens who have been told that their hair was “unfit” for the classroom or “unprofessional” for the workplace — those days are OVER! The next time someone approaches you and says your hair is unacceptable, you look them straight in the eye and say this WITH YOUR CHEST:
“You can take it up with the Supreme Court. If natural hair is acceptable there, it should certainly be here!” If they don’t like that response, they can take it up with Supreme Court JUSTICE Ketanji Brown Jackson. Put some respect on her name, please.
As of today, The CROWN Act has been enacted and influenced legislation in 14 states: California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Illinois, Maryland, Nebraska, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Oregon, Virginia, and Washington.
Progress has begun but is slowly churning in 29 other states where the legislation has been filed or pre-filed. Yet in the 7 remaining states, the legislation has not begun at all including: Alaska, Hawaii, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Ohio, and Wyoming. My hope is that Jackson’s confirmation was the final chess piece we needed to checkmate this outrageous, discriminating behavior that has hindered Black women for far too long.
I’ll never forget being in 6th grade when my school’s vice principal took me aside after lunch and told me that I would have to have my braids removed ENTIRELY due to a few streaks of blonde in my hair.
Strangely, my braids had never caused an issue with any faculty before. I had worn braids, twists, and several hairstyles for years. The only thing that changed that year was that we had a new vice-principal.
By chastising me in front of other classmates, I was made to feel like I was the problem even though other non-Black girls at school had dyed or added color to their hair before. Never mind the hundreds of dollars my mother spent to have my hair styled. Personally, braids helped me manage my hair during basketball or track practices after school.
You see — styling my hair wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity. A necessity to adapt and survive in exclusive environments that lack understanding about Black women’s hair, which is exactly why we need more Black female professors.
My hair was relaxed when I was a child, and if you’ve ever seen relaxed hair after an extremely sweaty workout….you understand. When I went home that day and told my mother about the vice principal’s complaint, she responded as any Nigerian mother would:
“And who is she again? Is she going to refund me my money? Would she like to style your hair for me? Is she — ”
Yeah, so 11-year-old me took that as a “no.”
Gosh, I was so anxious! I couldn’t fathom what excuse I could give the next day if I ran into the vice-principal with no visible changes to my hairstyle. The next day I made it a mission to avoid making eye contact with the vice principal if she popped up again. But, with so many teachers and adults running around, it happened by accident!
Yet, something odd happened.
When we eventually locked eyes, I didn’t get a look of reproach. Instead, a weird smile appeared across her face. Actually, she looked kind of nervous…even a little guilty.
Whatever the reason was, I looked away as quickly as I could and dashed for my homeroom once lunch was over. When my mother picked me up from school, she asked if the vice-principal had mentioned anything about my hair again.
Me: “No.
”
Her: *insert deadly Nigerian accent* “Good. She heard me very clearly.”
Well, that was that!
Aren’t moms the best?!
As relieved as I was, it never sat right with me that my mother and I had to deal with such demands in the first place. Growing up, I always wished there could’ve been more Black women I saw rocking natural hair in the media.
There was only a handful at the time: the Williams sisters, India Arie, Brandy, and Whoopi Goldberg. In retrospect, I know it would’ve meant the WORLD to me to see someone like Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson as a little girl.
I can’t count how many times I was pre-judged or discouraged from activities because of my hair’s “limitations”. From dance to swimming to theater auditions, it was only a matter of time before someone said, “Sorry, Christine. We’ll have to do something different with your hair.” Or, “Sorry, we don’t know how to work with your hair.”
That “sorry” always got to me because my hair was never something that someone should have to apologize for. I never apologized for it, why the heck should they? That’s why I’m so excited to share some good news with you today.
As of April 7, 2022, young Black girls and women everywhere will never have to accept another apology about our hair.
More importantly, the next generation of Black girls will be able to rest assured knowing that there are Black women in high places who are accepted for who they were, regardless of their hairstyles.
Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation as our next Supreme Court Justice has proven that we are more than acceptable — we are WORTHY.
We are worthy because of our character, our intellect, our merit, and our values. NOT because of our hair.
Therefore, let’s use this momentum to spur our policymakers to action and finally enact The CROWN Act into law across all 50 states.
The highest court of the land clearly doesn’t deem natural hair as unfit or as a hindrance to professional success. Why should anyone else? Ladies, our time is now.