The “Key” to Representation
My friend and I stopped off to get a burger at our favorite place in Burbank on our way to get a key at her friend’s house last night and we found ourselves in an interesting conversation - one we’ve had millions of times.
Breaking into the entertainment industry. We know people adjacent to the right people, we send hundreds of applications, we go on awkward coffee meet n’ greets, we aspire to finally write something down and shoot it ourselves - and yet the biggest, most difficult things stands in our way - time and money.
This particular night, we found ourselves discussing being a minority trying to make it in the industry.
A storm of agreeable and passionate conversation ensued.
[FULL DISCLOSURE - I’m a white guy whose minority status as a member of the lgbtq community can be hidden away fairly easily (I understand that), my lovely and closest friend in LA is of Jordanian descent and a woman (she finds it a bit more difficult to hide this).]
She describes how being part of a group built by and for women to take an active role in production is the first place that has given her a chance to get on set. How awesome is that!? I’m incredibly happy for her - after months of dragging her feet, contemplating moving back home and giving up on this big stupid dream, she joined this group by word of a friend and finally started getting work. Yipee!
I recently went on one of my best interviews to date (at a name-brand studio no less!) and didn’t get the show. The culprit: my race and gender.
This has caused an inexorable mix of emotions. I am without doubt a feminist and pro-affirmative action. There’s nothing I want more than for my friends to rise up, and yet when it came to my personal bread and butter, a step up for me, I am met with a bout of depression. I’ve never felt so unwanted because of something I can’t control. In that moment, I believe I caught a tiny glimpse of what it is to be anything but white in America.
It was bound to happen - and I’m happy it did.
What’s a boy to do? At least someone else got the job, someone who mightn’t have had the opportunity in the past - that is progress in our larger social conquest indeed. The expense to my career hurts, but I’ll get over it.
My friend suggests I take advantage of gay-oriented film groups. I’m hesitant to do so and I’m not sure why. It could be any number of irrational things. I’m good at coming up with those and believing them. I’m not gay enough (whatever the hell that means) often bubbles up - insecurities on the rise.
She makes a good point - wouldn’t it be nice to see a gay boy on screen, written and directed by a gay boy? The answer is obvious. I rebut that it’d be nice to see an Arab woman up there too, written and directed by an Arab woman.
Moonlight by Barry Jenkins is by far one of my favorite pieces of cinema. It changed everything for me, it rocked my world-view, threw timber on the flames of my passion - it was a transformative experience.
There have only been two times that I’ve witnessed a film early in it’s run and knew deep inside that it would most certainly win best picture - they were Birdman and Moonlight.
During that first viewing, I became totally consumed. I felt every bit of pain and joy Chiron felt. For the first time in my life I was forced to consider a perspective, a life, that I couldn’t otherwise conjure up in my imagination, and it changed me. I consider it a miraculous achievement. Astounding in all facets of technique. The perfect combination of structure and character, proliferating it’s profound message of tolerance through understanding into the universe.
If supporting people of minority identities results in films like Moonlight (and even if it doesn’t), my support is only strengthened with cooperative passion and new-found understanding.
Here’s what I fear - a new wave of blacksploitation films similar to that of the New Hollywood era of the 1970′s when the entertainment industry realized there was a market for films starring black actors in leading roles. While black consumers were getting some representation on screen, characters were often typified by stereotypes, which makes sense with white men at the helm of their creation. My fear consummated when Shaft was rebooted.
My hope is that in a society more aware of these disparities and past failings, truer works of diversified art are here to stay and in its course a sort of cultural balance becomes of the mainstream entertainment market. A market which I hope in turn continues to fund independent works of art and film designed by minorities for all of the world to enjoy.
To see a piece of oneself on screen, represented for the first time is a powerful thing. To have the feeling of being seen for the first time by everyone is beyond-words-magnificent.
We finished our meals, I leaned comfortably on the pleather cushion back of the booth for a while, taking it all in. Eventually my friend said we must be going. I pleaded for a moment to stay longer, to never leave this comfort. Though, she was right. It was ten already and we still needed to get that key.
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