Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Blues for Mr. Charlie Should Be a Film
Written as program notes initially for a production of Blues for Mr Charlie at the New Haarlem Arts Theatre at the City College of New York directed by Eugene Nesmith.
James Baldwin notes that he was initially inspired to write “Blues for Mr. Charlie” by the murder of Emmett Till, a 14 year old boy from Chicago who was visiting his grandfather for the summer in Money, Mississippi. Not only was he brutally murdered for a trivial encounter with a young proprietor of a country store, but the culprits were well known locally to have done it, although they were vindicated in a small town Southern court with an entirely white male jury in a proceedings that was recorded by television cameras already hot on the trail of the impending Civil Rights Movement.
The case was news for many reasons, among them that the murderers told their entire story to a journalist, William Bradford Huie, for payment of $40,000 so at least one version of little Emmett Till’s torturous death was published in a magazine and is therefore known in graphic detail. It was the kind of thing that could not help but stir the imagination. As a consequence of it, Northern blacks began to reconsider sending their children to their relatives in the South during the summers. Some people suggested that Till’s murder was part of the backlash of the South in retaliation for the unanimous Supreme Court Decision Brown versus Board of Education the year before overturning Plessys vs. Ferguson and making “separate but equal” public schools illegal.
Of course, there was a lot of action in Alabama as well as early as 1955 when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat in the white section on a local bus, spearheading the Montgomery Bus Boycott and the emergence of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. as a national leader of the Civil Rights Movement.
But another eight years would unfold before Baldwin finally finished Blues for Mr. Charlie. They were crucial years to the nation and to our drama, which he endowed with the distinct flavor of subsequent events--not only the many murders, beatings, arrests, church bombings of a racially integrated brigade of Civil Rights protesters and workers but also the subsequent organization of an important and substantial multiracial student wing best epitomized by the efforts of SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee). In the early 60s, SNCC began significantly compete with an older more conservative, more religion based leadership of the movement as provided by SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference), CORE, and the NAACP. The conflict and the tension was always over the use of nonviolence and the inevitable self-sacrifice and pain such tactics entailed.
As the pressure mounted, so did the random violence. In 1963 NAACP field secretary Medgar Evers (to whom Baldwin dedicated his play), a heroic local figure, was murdered on his own front porch in Jackson, Mississippi with a long range rifle wielded by a White Supremacist fanatic, making Evers the first in a series of major political assassinations relevant to the Civil Rights Movement. His murderer was known as well but not prosecuted until 1994, and Baldwin would not live to see it. The bitterness of these unpunished crimes haunts “Blues for Mr. Charlie.”
In that same year of 1963, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was arrested in Alabama and wrote his famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” in response to the criticism of conservative clergy of his aggressive nonviolent tactics, chastising him to wait on the legal means once favored by the NAACP. Nonetheless, the historic March on Washington, which took place in late August under the organizational leadership of Bayard Rustin and A. Philip Randolph, presented the Movement as a strong United Front. Even as Bull Connor set dogs and waterhoses on student protesters and four black girls lost their lives in the Ku Klux Klan bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham.
Baldwin’s character Richard draws upon an intoxicating masculine brew composed of the innocence of the 14 year old Emmett Till, the ferocity of Malcolm X and the smooth seductive masculinity of a Sam Cooke, author of one of the major Civil Rights anthems, “A Change Is Gonna Come.” Richard’s father the Minister Meridian echoes the dignity and frustration of then current Civil Rights leadership: the Martin Luther Kings, the Fred Shuttleworths, the Wyatt T. Walkers, the Reverend Ralph Abernathys, the James Farmers and the Bayard Rustins.
Parnell, who is the Mr. Charlie of the title, is the Southern Liberal, who has perhaps many real life models but the one that strikes me most deeply is none other than the great Southern writer William Faulkner, who was never really able to bring himself to believe that the time for change on racial issues had finally arrived, whose confusion on such matters was aptly presented in the film version of one his most direct novels on the topic, Intruders in the Dust (1949), which can be thought of as a useful prequel to this play. The sequel then would be Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird.
It's a heady mixture, a blues for Mr. Charlie indeed. We have yet to comprehend the melodic implications of such a dilemma, much less to supercede them. Mr. Charlie, much more so than the Richards or the Meridians or even the Lyles, remains an unresolved connundrum of deceit and politesse blocking the liberation of oppressed peoples all over the world.
Labels:
Blues for Mr. Charlie,
Intruders in the Dust,
James Baldwin,
Medgar Evers,
To Kill a Mockingbird
I am a writer and a professor of English at the City College of New York, and the CUNY Graduate Center. My books include Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman (1979), Invisibility Blues (1990), Black Popular Culture (1992), and Dark Designs and Visual Culture (2005). I write cultural criticism frequently and am currently working on a project on creativity and feminism among the women in my family, some of which is posted on the Soul Pictures blog.
The Help: Black Women and Hollywood
Viola Davis, the real star of The Help (2009) |
The novel The Help by Kathryn Stockett, a bestseller and a big favorite with black women’s book clubs this year, is appearing as a film this month with Viola Davis (Oscar nominated for Best Supporting Actress in Doubt 2009), featured in the role of Abilene, the child-loving and conscientious black maid and nanny in 1960s Mississippi who risks life and limb to tell her story.
If there were, in fact, lots of other opportunities for black women (of every hue) to strut their wares in the marketplace of American films, I would affirm The Help in its addition to the spectrum, providing a deeper resonance of an experience (working class black women) ordinarily underrepresented. But black female acting talent rarely gets attention these days.
In contrast to the stunning accomplishments of black men as actors and directors in the last decade, there continue to be only three variations on black female participation in American film. The more common of these is a “colorblind” role in which a black woman is cast in a part that would ordinarily be played by someone who was white, and in a story in which there is no attention to racial issues. The second kind is the black cast film in which pretty much everybody is black, the most recent prominent examples of this type are the films of Tyler Perry. The third kind of film (the category to which The Help belongs), which has always been the rarest, is one in which race is an issue or a problem, and the black woman plays a specifically black role, usually not the leading role.
In the history of feature films, black maids have had a long and distinguished history: beginning significantly with Louise Beavers in Imitation of LIfe (nominated for an Academy Award as a Supporting Actress in 1934) and Hattie McDaniels in Gone With The Wind (Oscar Award Winner of Best Supporting Actress in 1939), both of whom had to struggle valiantly on set for every shred of dignity mustered on screen.
In an era in which black female employment was primarily confined to domestic or acgricultural labor, black actresses were most frequently excluded from the silver screen entirely or forced to play maids regardless of abilities. Thanks to interventions by NAACP President Walter White with the Hollywood studios, singer and actress Lena Horne never played a maid. Still her major appearances were confined to leads in two black cast films in 1943--Cabin in the Sky and Stormy Weather. Billie Holiday even played a maid in New Orleans (1947).
Viola Davis, who is stunningly gifted, has had an important and promising career thus far on stage and on screen but The Help isn’t likely to bring her any closer to breaking with the other less talked about Hollywood convention of not featuring dark skinned black women in dramatic (romantic) leads. The role this part is positioned to play in Davis’s career is to show her capacity for serious dramatic roles. Would that the role weren’t so entirely sexless as well, but rarely are black maids in the movies allowed to be sexual. There were some notable exceptions in the heydays of the 60s and the 70s (such as Diahann Carroll in Claudine and Abbey Lincoln For Love of Ivy) but The Help isn’t one of them.
Davis's role in Help (Disney 2011) fails to break with the past in any respect. Featured in a supporting role as a maid in 1960s Jackson, Mississippi, Davis is dressed down without makeup, to age her by a decade or so, and in order to disguise her striking good looks and fabulous figure. Her work as Abilene, and that of the equally stellar Octavia Spenser in the role of her best friend as the rambunctious Minny, pivots around the central part which goes to the white actress Emma Stone as the young and spunky Squeeter (Emma Stone), the recent Ole Miss grad. Squeeter, who is home for the summer, has the bright idea of secretly interviewing black maids in town about their work conditions under their white mistresses, who also happen to be her best friends.
The film significantly mutes the dangers inherent to this plan for the black women in Mississippi in 1962, where James Meridith had just broken segregation by registering for law school at Ole Miss, touching off a riot which required the intervention of President John Kennedy and U.S. Marshalls, and in which two people were killed.
At the very point at which the story begins, the cooperation of the Ku Klux Klan and the White Citizen’s Council are making life in Jackson frequently harrowing for black people. Hundreds of Freedom Riders, arrested in Jackson in 1961 for the temerity of integrating the waiting rooms in the bus terminal, were sentenced to hard time at the notorious Parchman Penitentiary.
While events in The Help revolve around the sometimes humorous, sometimes ghastly interactions between the white women and their maids, the fatal shooting of NAACP Field Coordinator Medgar Evers on his front porch by the infamous Byron De La Beckwith (finally convicted in 1994) takes place off camera and in the distant background of the film.
For white women in Mississippi in the 1960s it could be as dangerous to be perceived as sympathetic to blacks as it was for blacks to be perceived as hostile to whites. Legal segregation was still in effect and crossing the boundaries could and did cost many people their lives. Nonetheless by the early 60s, Mississippi was the scene of a major Civil Rights Movement initiative spearheaded by Bob Moses and SNCC that would culminate in the Freedom Summer of 1964.
Kathryn Stockett's fictional work casts this interaction between black maids and Skeeter as a minor yet significant chapter in the history of the Civil Rights Movement. Yet no such chapter exists in the annals of the Movement, now extensively documented. Stockett, who is herself only 40 years old, may be reflecting unintentionally on more recent working conditions for domestic help in Jackson, Mississippi.
Stockett has a brother who has for many years employed a nanny for his children named Abilene, currently 60 years old, who complains that the character Stockett created is based on her (same name and they both have a gold tooth), causing her great personal discomfort and embarrassment. Fully supported by her employers, she is suing the author for damages in the amount of $75,000, an seemingly intentionally symbolic amount given that the book has already sold nearly half a million copies and is sure to sell even more upon the release of the film in August. I can well imagine that it might be uncomfortable for Abilene Clark to consider the prospect of thousands of readers confusing her life as a 60 year old woman (I, myself, am 59) in 2010 as a cipher for that of the character Abilene, a total victim of the Jim Crow South half a century ago.
ENDIT
Labels:
Gone With the Wind,
Hattie McDaniels,
Imitation of Life,
Lena Horne,
Louise Beavers,
Medgar Evers,
The Help,
Viola Davis
I am a writer and a professor of English at the City College of New York, and the CUNY Graduate Center. My books include Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman (1979), Invisibility Blues (1990), Black Popular Culture (1992), and Dark Designs and Visual Culture (2005). I write cultural criticism frequently and am currently working on a project on creativity and feminism among the women in my family, some of which is posted on the Soul Pictures blog.
The Birth of a Nation: Michele and Others on the Film
I am a writer and a professor of English at the City College of New York, and the CUNY Graduate Center. My books include Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman (1979), Invisibility Blues (1990), Black Popular Culture (1992), and Dark Designs and Visual Culture (2005). I write cultural criticism frequently and am currently working on a project on creativity and feminism among the women in my family, some of which is posted on the Soul Pictures blog.
Uncle Tom's Cabin by Michele Wallace
Publicity for 1927 Silent Version of Uncle Tom's Cabin |
http://blackandbluespeople.blogspot.com/search/label/Slavery
This is a link to my commentary on David Blight's wonderful series of lectures on the Civil War and Reconstruction in itunes university via his classroom at Yale. We must have courses like this at the City College of New York. In the meanwhile this one is available to everyone who has a computer.
Uncle Tom's Cabin: Before and After the Jim Crow Era
This is my article on the topic particularly of Uncle Tom's Cabin on stage and in film printed in TDR in 2000. Great stuff.
I am a writer and a professor of English at the City College of New York, and the CUNY Graduate Center. My books include Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman (1979), Invisibility Blues (1990), Black Popular Culture (1992), and Dark Designs and Visual Culture (2005). I write cultural criticism frequently and am currently working on a project on creativity and feminism among the women in my family, some of which is posted on the Soul Pictures blog.
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About Me
- Michele Wallace
- I am a writer and a professor of English at the City College of New York, and the CUNY Graduate Center. My books include Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman (1979), Invisibility Blues (1990), Black Popular Culture (1992), and Dark Designs and Visual Culture (2005). I write cultural criticism frequently and am currently working on a project on creativity and feminism among the women in my family, some of which is posted on the Soul Pictures blog.