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https://blackgirlnerds.com/new-trailer-for-the-own-series-the-kings-of-napa/
OWN: Oprah Winfrey Network debuts the trailer and key art to the juicy new drama, The Kings of Napa from acclaimed writer and executive producer Janine Sherman Barrois (Claws, Self-Made: Inspired by the Life of Madam C.J. Walker) and Warner Bros. Television, to premiere on OWN Tuesday, January 11, 2022, at 8 p.m. ET/PT.
The series features Ebonée Noel (FBI, Wrecked) who plays August King, the middle sibling and the family’s brilliant marketing whiz who’s passionate about wine and always looking for new ways to expand the business. Rance Nix (Zero Issue, Amsterdam Ave) plays Dana King, the older brother and the savvy CFO of the winery. Karen LeBlanc (Ransom, Jack Ryan) plays Vanessa King, the matriarch of the family who gave up her career to help run the winery in Napa with her husband Reginald King, played by Isiah Whitlock Jr. (The Wire, Da 5 Bloods). Yaani King Mondschein (The Prince & Me, Saving Grace) plays Bridgette Pierce, the cousin of the King siblings who works as the vineyard manager for House of Kings wine. Ashlee Brian (The Forty-Year-Old Version, Family Reunion) plays Christian King, the youngest brother with swag who manages the winery’s bottling facility but knows little about growing grapes. And Devika Parikh (Grey’s Anatomy, Aquaman) plays Melanie Pierce, August’s aunt who is now back in the States with a firestorm that threatens to change the King family forever.
The Kings of Napa is produced for OWN by Harpo Films in association with Warner Bros. Television. Sherman Barrois serves as showrunner and executive producer alongside Michelle Listenbee Brown (Love Is__, Real Husbands of Hollywood) and Oprah Winfrey. Academy Award® winner Matthew A. Cherry (Hair Love) directs the first two episodes of the series.
The Kings of Napa is centered on a gorgeous and picturesque Napa Valley, California vineyard owned by the Kings, an aspirational African American family whose wealth and status land them on the pages of design magazines and society pages. The wine business has brought the family success and acclaim, but following the patriarch’s sudden exit from the company, his three children must grapple for the reins to the kingdom — to their own power, wealth, and legacy.
While it’s been exactly a year since the last time we witnessed the battle for the karate soul of the Valley, all of maybe two seconds have passed between Cobra Kai season 3 and season 4. Our very first scene features the vague profile of an aged Terry Silver getting the call to action from John Kreese, and the second scene picks up from Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang’s joint practice with a simple “Ready / Let’s begin” (appropriately, the title of the first episode).
The promise of the fourth season of Cobra Kai is the much-anticipated team up between Johnny Lawrence and Daniel LaRusso as they recognize that their feud means nothing in the grand scheme of John Kreese resurrecting his brutal pedagogy and cultivating a cult of personality with a bunch of teenagers…again. After the absolutely brutal home invasion that capstoned last season, the dojos have agreed to a super tentative truce with the agreement to hash everything out at the All-Valley. To the victor, goes the spoils. To the loser, their dojo must shut down.
And thus sets the stage for what I will continue to argue is the best high school martial arts drama series that has absolutely no right being as entertaining as it is. I’ve been advocating for this series since the YouTubeRed era in 2018 and once they were handed off to Netflix, I have made it a point to proselytize to everyone on the good show that is Cobra Kai. After watching season 4, my position has not swayed me. If you can willingly suspend some disbelief over community reaction to karate-based gang violence (which I’m assuming if you’re three seasons deep, you’re reconciled with this already), you’re gonna enjoy the ride.
Cobra Kai season 4 feels like the narrative parallel to The Karate Kid, Part III. Season 1 was a modern recreation of the first Karate Kid, and season 2 and 3 acted as a prolonged narrative interlude that featured much higher stakes and a trip to Okinawa (albeit much shorter than the one The Karate Kid, Part II). With the All-Valley Under 18 Karate Tournament (gotta use the full name as a matter of respect) as the focal point for the season and the physical return of Terry Silver into the fray, season 4 is about new training regimes in preparation and grappling with a bunch of turbulent emotions in a way that hits all sorts of nostalgic notes.
There are many central themes surrounding Cobra Kai. Don’t let the past grudges define who you are in the present. Being aggressive doesn’t mean you need to be an asshole. Bullying is still a fundamental problem in society because children can be needlessly cruel, and adults don’t always know the best way to intervene. Balance is key. And all of these messages appear throughout the ten episodes, although I think that some of these points are belabored considering we’ve gone over them in thirty past prior episodes and three movies (five movies? You get the idea).
The keystone dynamic of Daniel LaRusso and Johnny Lawrence not seeing eye to eye on things at this point is beginning to run out of novel narrative space. Given that is the foundation of the series, it’s understandable if the folks behind the camera are worried about straying from what endeared us in the first place, but at times it’s almost as if they’re afraid to move past that and keep rehashing the same conflict over and over and over. But thankfully there are plenty of other character dynamics in play that open up the story to keep things interesting.
The extended Karate Kid universe has an impressively deep roster, and it’s clear that the ensemble have grown and matured together. However, it’s nice to know that the cast is still growing. In the interest of keeping things spoiler-free, I can’t explain exactly how these new characters complicate things, but I can at least be appreciative that the cast is slowly (very, very slowly) becoming a little more diverse. This increase in cast size though does come at the expense of some character development and much like Eli Moskowitz’s/Hawk’s sudden redemption in the season 3 finale, there are some…leaps that just happen. Nothing that feels like a dramatic departure, but it’s clear that some payoffs feel a lot better than others.
Throughout the ten episodes, some things that happen are incredibly predictable, but are exceedingly well executed. The twists that happen are perfectly placed and had me picking up my jaw off the floor in shock. The performances are fantastic, the fight quality is sublime, and the music soundtrack still on point.
There is so much to love about the series, and everyone involved has gone to great lengths to make sure that we’ll be able to spend ample time in the extended Karate Kid universe for a long time to come. I think season 4 does suffer a little from a slow start and repetitive arc, but the culmination of the All Valley Tournament is some of the finest sports drama you could ask for and the promise of Season 5 has me chanting “COBRA KAI NEVER DIES.”
Check out the reviews of previous seasons here.
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The post ‘Cobra Kai’ Season 4 Continues to Vie for “Best Martial Arts Drama” appeared first on Black Nerd Problems.
“This feels so familiar,” Bugs (Jessica Henwick) says as The Matrix Resurrections opens on an almost identical scene to the original Matrix film. Agents surround the same Heart O’ the City Hotel where Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) first blew our minds with her slow-motion leap back in 1999. Just as the audience is familiar with these visual cues, so is Bugs, and we all know something is off. Agent Smith is Black (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s first appearance on screen) and Trinity (not Carrie-Anne) gets caught, rather than flying through the air into an impossibly small window and escaping back into the Real World.
For the next chunk of The Matrix Resurrections, the visual echoes back to the original trilogy taking place in what appears to be an entirely new timeline where The Matrix is a global blockbuster video game trilogy and Keanu Reeves’ Thomas Anderson is the nerdy rockstar designer who changed the narrative. Thomas is shocked when his business partner (Jonathan Groff, who doubles as Agent Smith) says their distribution company wants a fourth Matrix, not the new game he’s been designing. Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) is now Tiffany, a disgruntled housewife with three children and a cameo husband fans will chuckle to recognize. Thomas is secretly fascinated with her but too shy to make a move.
Also, this version of Thomas clearly has severe anxiety issues, barely able to contain his nerves, and seeking out his analyst (Neil Patrick Harris) for more of the blue pills he must take daily after his near-death after trying to fly off a building, believing he was Neo from his video game. That is until Bugs finds “Thomas,” shows him her white rabbit tattoo, and tries to convince him that he is, in fact, Neo, and he’s been plugged back into the Matrix for almost 60 years since his supposed death. To make matters worse, the “new” Morpheus (Yahya’s true role in this film) is like the “new” Oracle in The Matrix Revolutions, just different enough to make Neo continue to doubt his reality.
This was the moment where I started to get as stressed and upset as “Thomas,” wondering whether director Lana Wachowski had created this new chapter just to mess with us. Even when Neo is brought back into the Real (albeit very different from the original) World, I wrote this note: “But is any of this ‘real’ or is it the video game part four? How can we know for sure?” The past two years of pandemica have blue-pilled me into knee-jerk cynicism. But then I remembered that Wachowski actually likes her fans, considers us a part of her extended community, and wouldn’t have revived this franchise to cause us pain. So, I chose the red pill and settled into the beauty of this fourth and most fabulous Matrix film, and it was a homecoming in so many ways.
“Nothing comforts anxiety like a little nostalgia,” and Resurrections leans right into Alice’s looking glass with easter eggs aplenty from the first three movies, some in your face, and others cleverly tucked into the corners of rooms. But what is markedly different in Resurrections is the openly celebrated queerness that dominates the entire film, where the cishet actors (as well as white ones) in the cast are in the minority.
Once upon a time, The Matrix trilogy was a secret allegory of the transgender experience since its creators were both closeted trans women. It’s only recently Lilly Wachowski revealed this to be an intentional fact of the film. So with this information out of the closet, the open critique of the binary — from code to gender — in Resurrections is truly a wonder to behold. As Lilly and Lana Wachowski have become de facto moms/aunties to generations of queer folks as we (myself included) found our real selves with the help of The Matrix‘s metaphors, in Resurrections we see how Neo and Trinity have similarly become imaginary parents in this regard, raising several generations of Real Worlders through the memory of their heroic acts of martyrdom that did fundamentally change that world.
In our nonfiction world, it wasn’t until Resurrections that I realized how much my heart was broken that Revolutions ended with Neo and Trinity dead. To see them brought back in Resurrections in such a thoughtful, meaningful, and beautiful way was a healing experience — a concrete step toward wholeness and with it hope for a potentially magical new future, not the hellscape we’ve all been imagining as we enter the third season of pandemica. I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the drips off my chin; I was fully immersed in this strange world I have loved since opening weekend 1999.
Resurrections tackles a lot in its 148 minutes, including introducing an entirely new inclusive cast (racial representation gets an A+) with the bonus of several familiar characters, some with their original faces. The same philosophical questions of identity and self of course arise, as well as important critiques of commercialism, consumerism, and that wicked force of capitalism that treats human bodies like coppertop batteries. It also manages to lovingly touch on themes of grief, loss, and trauma in compassionate ways, reminding me of the Sense8 clusters that are marked by shared empathy. “Why does this story feel like a memory?” Trinity asks Neo, and this one line resonates on multiple layers. All the motifs in Resurrections touch on the very essence of being human, but arguably the most important is the transformative power of love. It’s easy to forget that at its core code, The Matrix has always been a powerful love story. But in Resurrections, this fact takes on an entirely new meaning.
The Matrix Resurrections isn’t just a badass revival of a beloved sci-fi franchise, it also has impeccable comedic timing that hits exactly the right notes to bring us deeper into this exquisite new worldbuilding while also honoring all the storytelling that came before. Even better, I love how Keanu Reeves and especially Carrie-Anne Moss were given permission to age on screen and they weren’t CGI’d into creepy youngface oblivion. Representation in this movie helps reinforce an entirely new bar for Hollywood.
“That’s the thing about stories. They never really end, do they? We’re still telling the same stories we’ve always told, just with different names, different faces,” Agent Smith says. The Matrix Resurrections is both a trip down memory lane as well as an entirely new take on the franchise. Even if future films only revolve around Trinity and Neo painting the sky with rainbows, I am joyfully and unconditionally along for that ride.