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As news comes in of Lil Boosie’s murder conviction, the message boards are lighting up with cries of sympathy and solidarity. “Free Boosie” becomes the refrain; heartfelt posts of sorrow and sympathy are pouring in, along with rants about the injustice of the legal system and the conspiracy to keep black men down. There will undoubtedly be a slew of “Free Boosie” T-shirts making their debut in the hood, if it hasn’t happened already.
This review will feature spoilers…because I care nothing about your movie-going experience. ~ m.d.s.
Forget that it’s a remake. Forget about the fact that Jaden Smith, heir to the Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith throne, gets top-billing over the “world’s biggest movie star” Jackie Chan. Forget about the fact it’s called “The Karate Kid” but is set in China (not Japan, where Karate was developed) and there is no karate, but rather kung-fu. Forget, forget, forget. Why?
Because this movie is so fucking dope.
Few photographers these days can resist the urge to shock and scandalize us with the grit and bloodiness of the wider world’s state of constant jeopardy. Where do you look if you want to pull your eyes away from that or from your television, with its own well of blood and surreal interstitials in the form of Real-Housewives-of-God-Knows-Why-We-Care? If a mine collapses in Virginia, or a well explodes in the Gulf, or a mountain slides down onto a village, we see it in as much gratifyingly hideous detail as possible. We gaze at photos of grieving widows and starving or displaced children. We press our ears to our televisions to listen for sounds of survivors. Still, I wonder if we recognize ourselves in these people caught in tragic dust, grime, and blood-covered images.
I love old people, really I do. I want to grow old one day. Senior discounts, casino trips and Medicare benefits aside, I just want to be able to say whatever the hell I want and then look at people like, “What?! Say something! I’m 80, bitches!” *high kick and extended pose*
I’m putting up this disclaimer now: this review is not going to attempt objectivity. I’m not a professional music critic. I don’t get paid to be objective. In fact, I’m broke. I need someone to come pay my car insurance…wait, what was I doing? – m.d.s
On Drake’s Thank Me Later. I’ll pass.
In case you haven’t heard…
ThunderCats will Return 2011
The new “ThunderCats” will appeal to viewers who have loved the characters all their lives as well as young newcomers to the franchise. A sweeping tale combining swords and science and boasting ferocious battles with the highest of stakes, the grand origin story of Prince Lion-O’s ascension to the throne – and of those who would thwart his destiny at any cost – takes on epic dimensions in this sharp new telling. As the forces of good and evil battle each other in the quest for the fabled Stones of Power, Lion-O and his champions learn valuable lessons of loyalty, honor and mortality in every episode.
In a manner of speaking. Black Snob’s Danielle Belton offers a measured and insightful review of the much pre-maligned Helena Andrews memoir, Bitch is the New Black.
I’ll be the first to say that I am not a fan of Lil’ Wayne. I don’t get his appeal. He wasn’t very good in The Hot Boyz and his solo albums are okay at its very, VERY best. Hundreds of other rappers and hip hop artists smash Weezy, but he still enjoys a huge fan base and has more awards thrown at him than Obama. But when he started mixing rock into his brand of auto-tuned talk-hop, that’s where I have to draw the f’ing line. Listen to the new song and video “Knockout” with Nicki Minaj, another person that makes me consider quitting music and living in a cave somewhere.
I suppose that title was too long for VH1. So let’s forget accuracy and just call it Basketball “wives”. At this point, I might put basketball in quotes as well because I only recognize one of the baller’s names. The other ones teeth? If I ever saw them, I’d remember–either on the court or trying to destroy Tokyo. I would remember them like a missed dental appointment. I don’t want to go in on this man’s mouth area because I don’t want his mouth area to go in on me. I bet you Jeffrey Dahmer is somewhere going, “Damn… If only…”
UPDATE: Original Link was removed. New link added.
His Yeezy-ness seems to have dropped (read: leaked) the lead single from his upcoming album “Good Ass Job.” Good news: 0 auto-tune. The hook seeming to be a homage to the Spike Lee joint “Malcom X.” Things you might notice immediately? Lines like:
“They say I was the abomination of Obama’s Nation. Well thats a pretty bad way to start a conversation.”
Which is followed up pretty fast with
“I don’t need your pussy, bitch I’m on my own dick.”
Take a listen for yourself.
I’ve had a quiet anger just under my surface ever since ABC’s LOST took 2.5 hours of my life and crapped on my intelligence. I know, I know “It’s about the characters!” And to that I say “burn in hell.” If I wanted “characters” I’d watch Grey’s Anatomy. I watched #Lost because there was a magical island with smoker monsters and evil scientists. Oh, there were some characters that I found very entertaining while they were fighting the smoke monster and evil scientists, but that wasn’t what I signed up for. Check this awesome video that I reenacted almost verbatim at 11:37pm Sunday night. (H/T Fahnon Bennett )
I am on a one man mission to save black cinema.
Ambitious, I know, but I feel it is my duty as a black person of conscience to tackle the big issues. For far too long, Hollywood has, at best, misrepresented and, at worst, neglected portrayals of black life on the big screen. I’ve complained. I’ve tweeted. I’ve sent dead fish to Paul Haggis’ house (allegedly). It hasn’t worked. It’s time for a new course of action.
My plan: to pay (legally!) to see as many films featuring majority black casts as humanly possible. But no Tyler Perry flicks. I have standards.
My intent: to show Hollywood that, yes, movies with black people in them are indeed commercially viable and they should invest more in them. Just not Tyler Perry flicks. Seriously.
My hope: that if films with black casts are successful financially, big studios will be more apt to shell out cash for films that offer more varied representations of black film.
The bottom line is that money talks and it’s the only language Hollywood responds to. Look at Judd Apatow. If he wanted to, he could get the green light to shoot a 3D animated biopic about the life of Jim Carrey. Why? Because his movies make money. His audience goes to the theater, faithfully, regardless of how bad his last movie may have been. He’s bankable. Black people aren’t.
The problem, as I’ve come to understand it, is that when a film that does feature black people at the helm is released, those of us with the disposable income to partake simply don’t. We complain about the reliance on damaging stereotypes for entertainment purposes and the effect that will have on the collective psyche. This is a legitimate concern. In turn, however, Hollywood, responds to our lack of support by not backing any movies featuring black people at all.
So my thinking is, if I spend enough money to see Our Family Wedding style movies, in the future, studios will be more open to greenlighting films like Medicine for Melancholy or Something is Killing Tate. Then these films will no longer be relegated to indie obscurity, only to be mentioned in conversation by people trying to prove how much cooler they are than everyone else; they’ll get the budget and audience they deserve.
Essentially what I’m saying is that in order to get more quality black films made, we’re going have to sit through a lot of mediocre bullshit. And not just sit through, but actually pay for.
That is, unless we finance the production of our own films. Seeing as how I don’t have $30 million in my sock drawer begging to be turned into an Ida B. Wells picture, though, it looks as if I’m stuck watching less than thrilling fare such as Chris Rock’s Death at a Funeral remake or Common’s less than stellar acting chops in Just Wright.
And if that’s what it’s going to take, dammit, I’m going to try. Will it work? I have no idea. It’s only a theory and I’m only one man who refuses to pay anything over matinee prices. For the sake of black cinema, this is a risk I’m willing to take.
But seriously, no Tyler Perry flicks. I have standards.
This has got to be the worst theme song ever. They should stop letting Ray J write songs… they should stop letting Ray J sing songs… you know what, actually, Ray J should be stopped.
So apparently it’s Brandy’s birthday and Ray J took time out of his busy schedule as West Cost Party King (401K… is a drink) to plan a lavish 31st birthday in Miami. And by plan, I mean, he made two phone calls and requested half naked men. Wait… I think I skipped a part. No matter.
Wale, the oft-described savior of “real” hip-hop is in all sorts of hot water right now. After being booked and then cancelling an appearance at the DC Black Pride event.
MetroWeekly
Earl Fowlkes, the DC Black Pride board member acting as spokesperson for the nonprofit organization, cited homophobia for the rapper’s decision.”Basically we had an agreement, and we were very clear to the different parties and agents involved that this was an LGBT event,” Fowlkes says.
”What happened is that when the first blast went out that Wale was going to be at Black Pride he got cold feet, and his agent first said Wale wasn’t available because he had to do family stuff. Then we got another e-mail saying he didn’t know what kind of event this was when he agreed to it.”
But Wale sounded off on his Twitter account…
This song came out about a week ago. I’ve been meaning to say something about it but my mind kept blocking out the fact that it existed. Before I continue…please, watch/listen for yourself…
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