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Ever since taking over the role of Chewbacca from the late, great Peter Mayhew, actor Joonas Suotamo has endeared himself to Star Wars fans all across the globe. The 6 foot 11 Finish ex- basketball player played the galaxy’s greatest wookiee in four of the five Disney Star Wars films. But he’s not just a part of the Star Wars ensemble, hes also a huge fan of the franchise. Even the parts of it he’s not in, like The Mandalorian. And Suotamo just congratulated the cast and crew of that series for their multiple Emmy wins via social media. It’s a truly adorable video.

Joonas, who seems to know his way around a guitar, congratulated the crew of The Mandalorian for their five wins with his rendition of the Mando theme music by Ludwig Göransson. Actually, Joonas didn’t perform this little musical tribute all by himself. He had the help of his “family band.” Which seems to consist of himself and his infant daughter (who is wearing a Baby Yoda shirt to boot!) His newborn daughter joined the Suotamo clan earlier this year, alongside her big brother Aatos. Aatos’ family nickname is “Babybacca,” in case you needed some more awwws.

Lucasfilm

The Mandalorian won Emmy awards for Outstanding Special Visual Effects; Outstanding Cinematography for a Single Camera Series; Outstanding Sound Mixing for a Comedy or Drama Series; Outstanding Sound Editing for a Comedy or Drama Series; and Outstanding Production Design for a Narrative Program. Not bad for a show which has only had one season! But that’s what happens when you become a pop culture sensation on the level of Mando and the Child.

We actually hope we see Joonas portray Chewie at some point in The Mandalorian. He’s the only original trilogy character besides the droids who could conceivably cross paths with Mando and company, so why not? We already know the Star Wars galaxy is notoriously small. It would be worth it for the Chewie/Baby Yoda scene alone!

Featured Image: Lucasfilm

The post Chewbacca Actor Adorably Congratulates MANDALORIAN Crew appeared first on Nerdist.

This post contains spoilers for the film La Llorona. 

The Shudder original La Llorona (not to be confused with the recent atrocious Americanized version) exemplifies what an urban legend brought to film and centered in reality can accomplish. The film oozes atmosphere that leaves a weight on viewers throughout its runtime, increasing the pressure until the climactic end. Everything from cinematography to dialogue feels like we are viewing people who have lost something: their humanity, their loved ones, their morality. And yet, what stands out even more are the various women central to the plot and the patriarch that wrought this destruction. Their journey is essential to ending the patriarchal stranglehold and, symbolically, the demise of all patriarchy—particularly Carmen’s, the grandmother and matriarch of the family.

The patriarchal system is meant to circumvent the power of women and subjugate them, lowering them to a submissive position that is often reflected both in the home and in society. White patriarchy—that which has stretched its insidious tentacles globally, along with racism—is used to excuse the enslavement of Black and Brown people for the patriarchy’s capitalistic gains. Even countries that have avoided direct colonization have sought to emulate the economic successes of “first world countries,” believing the toxic systems were the keys to it. This also leads to colorism, which is a staple of racism. Slaves were dark-skinned, so the further away one is from dark-skin, the more privilege they have access to. This is precisely why victims, particularly of large scale atrocities, are often darker-skinned, and the perpetrators are typically white or light-skinned. Few have escaped the grasp of misogyny, racism, and colorism, nor how that mindset determines how we see victims. 

Shudder

The film uses the legend of La Llorona, incorporating the myth into real-life atrocities committed in Guatemala. Paralleling reality, the patriarch of the film, General Monteverde (Enrique), is on trial for the genocide of Indigenous Mayan-Ixil people. La Llorona itself is a legend that centers women and the suffering we experience at the hands of not only unjust men, but a society and culture that propagates patriarchal supremacy and matriarchal subjugation.

From the opening of the film, gender lines are clearly showcased through the pullback shot of the matriarch praying along with her daughter and a group of women. We see, despite her internalized misogyny, the women are united together in a collective to pray and protect. This also highlights the importance of the matriarch, Carmen, in the ghosts’ quest for vengeance.

Next, we see the patriarch and progenitor of violence and trauma, Enrique. And while there are other men in the shot, they are out of focus and in stark contrast to his visibility.  

We can surmise that Carmen has gone through a lot of travails with her husband Enrique, including an affair that resulted in an illegitimate child. While not a likable character, she is certainly a relatable one. She internalizes misogyny and colorism. She hates dark-skinned Indigenous women, particularly the ones who testified against her husband, referring to them as “whores.” This doesn’t gel with her sentiments that she treats her servants well (though Carmen and women like her would disagree), expecting gratitude for all those free tortillas. She is the woman who would rather keep a position in society that favors men and lighter skin because at least she is not on the bottom. But in order to end the reign of vicious men, a united effort is required. This mirrors the divide we have between women who stand in opposition to the patriarchal system—which includes capitalism and oppressive systems used to sustain the patriarchy—and those who are abettors to the system. 

Shudder

We cannot appeal to the humanity of the patriarchy, a system that only sees women and girls as empty vessels for male use. Inevitably, as shown in the film, its perpetrators will believe their lies and rationalizations. Enrique is a symbol and microcosm of the patriarchal system. He runs around trying to murder a ghost he sees as a guerrilla terrorist, who was in actuality a woman trying to survive with her children. He is unable to acknowledge what he has done; lies become truth when they are repeated enough. 

What we need is a matriarch brought into the fold. But how does one accomplish that when the matriarch in question won’t acknowledge her husband’s actions (and projects his transgressions onto the Indigenous women) and does not speak the language of her marginalized sisters? The method is two-pronged: send her dreams where she experiences the suffering, murder, and trauma that whittles away at her militant stance beside her husband. 

Enter Alma, a victim of Enrique’s, unbeknownst to everyone. Granted, Enrique slaughtered so many people he probably can’t remember them all. Upon her arrival, Carmen starts to have dreams where she is running with two children, trying to evade soldiers. In dreams, Carmen is vulnerable and those rationalizations of dark-skinned women tempting her man won’t infiltrate because she is in a situation where her class and lighter skin won’t save her. Carmen isn’t solely meant to sympathize with Alma, but to live her experience, to breathe it in. And at that moment, she craves what Alma does: vengeance. 

The second approach is that Alma, a beautiful young woman, inspires jealousy in Carmen when she discovers Enrique with an erection, spying on Alma in the bath. Naturally, that anger should be solely directed at Enrique, but Carmen is unable to fully break free of the vise of internalized misogyny. While her daughter adamantly apologizes to Alma, Carmen orders Alma to stop wearing the maid uniform; thus, she lays the blame for her elderly husband’s predatory actions on Alma and what she wears. However, she doesn’t let Enrique off scot-free. We all know the saying: “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Shudder

In the end, Carmen has to be the one to kill Enrique. It’s her atonement and her punishment. She strangles him because that is what the system has done to us. It constricts, limiting out free will, our ability to even breathe and exist without fear when simply rejecting a man is grounds—in their minds—for them to harm us. Enrique and the patriarchy had to die, and it had to be done by a woman in the manner it’s done in La Llorona. 

This is also why, in the end, the women and girl in the house are the only ones standing. Even the male bodyguard, Letona, disappears when two ghost children lead him away. The point was to punish evil men. While there is a discussion to be had regarding whether silence or complicity rival such atrocities, here the judgment is for the guilty and the culpable’s judgment is to carry out the execution. After all, the author of all is white supremacist patriarchy. It is hard to break free of a system that is meant to cow you while doing it so seamlessly at every turn that your suspicions are rarely aroused. A system so pervasive that there is little opportunity to step fully outside the system. 

But in the end, vengeance is still incomplete as it’s never just one man responsible. There are those who give the orders, those who act it out, and those who protect. And it’s clear from the final scene that Alma is not done. Her screams are chilling because, in this world, we don’t have to imagine women raped and killed, their children butchered. We live in it and any of us can be next. 

There can be no demise of the patriarchy until women, both those who have been culpable in uplifting patriarchy and those who actively resist, come together. But unfortunately, life isn’t a film and, there is no opportunity to have a woman who aids the oppression of women with darker skin experience what their silence, their rationalizations, their jealousy, have fostered. Perhaps more vengeful spirits are needed out here in the world. But we all know that’s not possible. Or is it?

Featured Image: Shudder

The post La Llorona and a Death Knell To The Patriarchy appeared first on Nerdist.

David Oyelowo makes his directorial debut in this fantastical and whimsical tale about a boy searching for hope and immortality to save his dying mother. Oyelowo stars as Amos Boone, the father of Gunner (Lonnie Chavis), who is doing his best to keep his family together in spite of the dire circumstances ahead of them. Amos has a fractured relationship with Gunner, and it’s clear that it’s the mother Mary (Rosario Dawson) who is the glue that keeps them together. When Gunner’s mother’s illness takes a turn for the worst, Gunner is determined to find the cure to keep her alive through a mythic creature referred to as the Water Man. 

Gunner meets a young girl Jo (Amiah Miller), who is bold, fearless and has enough bravado to join Gunner’s quest to find the elusive Water Man. The two are willing to risk their lives going into the deep Wild Horse forest to meet the terrifying man notably known from ghost stories and horror folklore. As they meander through the terrain of this forest, which by day looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting and by night feels like a creepy Edgar Allen Poe poem, the two discover strange happenings all around them.

In a statement about The Water Man, David Oyelowo says, “I grew up loving family films that have adventure, fantasy, and jeopardy whilst never patronizing their young protagonists. As a father to four children, I want to share films with my kids that both entertain and equip them for the highs and lows that lie ahead. I relish watching films with them that both transport our family to a different world and then leave us having meaningful conversations. I love films that do that, so I set out to make one for them, other families, and hopefully, the whole world!”

The Water Man delivers in its execution of a story and film that can allow you to escape for a couple of hours. The cinematography is gorgeous with bright hues to illustrate the grandiose forest Gunner and Jo escape to, but also candidly depicts the beautiful tiny town of Pine Mills where this family resides. The gorgeous set design inside of the home of Jim (Alfred Molina) is impressive and reveals the character of this man and his unorthodox beliefs. Gunner confides in Jim shortly after he learns about the history of the Water Man, and when Gunner finds out from Jim that the Water Man cheated death, not only does it pique his interest, but he believes it is destiny that he must seek this mysterious man. 

When Amos discovers his child has gone missing, he seeks help from law enforcement through the aid of Sheriff Goodwin (Maria Bello), who begins to track both Gunner and Jo, but knows that time is not on their side as the clock is ticking. 

Lonnie Chavis gives a beautiful and brilliant performance in this film as Gunner the lead protagonist who takes us on this journey. David Oyelowo also delivers an incredible performance, dropping his British accent to play Amos, a father who is struggling to reconnect with his son and come to terms with his wife’s mortality.

The Water Man is also a Harpo Films production, which means Oprah Winfrey served as an executive producer on this picture. There are some parallels of fantasy between what The Water Man has and another film Oprah Winfrey was involved with — A Wrinkle in Time: searching and longing for something beyond the bounds of reality and experiencing that in the supernatural. Growth and character development in this story with respect to Gunner’s character and a little of Jo’s is what makes The Water Man such a fully fleshed out, entertaining, and impactful narrative.

Oyelowo’s directorial debut hits the mark, and he’s definitely found his place in this tough genre. To give credit to the writing, The Water Man is based on a script by Emma Needell that was featured in the 2015 Black List. 

This is a movie that sticks with you and a story that gives a lesson of coming to terms with death that so many of us (and not by choice) are learning more each and every day.  The film is entertaining but also gives an opportunity for children to understand and learn about life and death in fantastical terms that may be hard to explain in more traditional ways. 

The Water Man made its premiere at the 2020 Toronto International Film Festival.

Source: Paras Griffin / Getty

Kenya Moore has put on a few pounds (okay, maybe a little bit more than a few) in quarantine, and she’s not afraid to show them off.

The 49-year-old Real Housewives of Atlanta star revealed the weight gain while sharing a glamorous image of herself during a photo shoot. She said she’s now more than 180 pounds.

“183 lbs!!! The Quarantine has added 25lbs to my 5’10” frame,” she wrote on Instagram. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

Notice any difference?

Moore has always been about her fitness. After birthing daughter Brooklyn, a pregnancy she gained more than 70 pounds with, she quickly bounced back to her original weight. She cited her diet and exercise habits before baby as the reason for the accelerated snapback.

“A lot of it, to be honest, because of the preeclampsia, was water weight gain,” she said in 2019 of the 75 pounds she put on. “So a week after I had given birth, I lost 40 pounds. But I had a C-section so I couldn’t really stand up, I obviously couldn’t work out or do anything like that. But I was a workout person before. I took care of my body. I, what we call just ‘snapped back’ after two weeks. I thought, ‘Wow! My tummy is flat again,’ or nearly flat. I didn’t think that would happen.”

She admitted she was worried that because of her age, she wouldn’t be able to get back to her old self.

“I’m 47 years old. I was worried too,” she said. at the time. “The young girls get to snap back but what about me? [laughs] And so, you take care of your body and you eat well.”

The stress of quarantine has caused many people to pack on the pounds, so Moore’s weight gain is not a shock. We’re sure that with her love of training and regularly eating clean though, Moore will shed those 25 pounds soon enough. If she doesn’t, that’s perfectly fine, too.