If I owned a chain of movie theaters like AMC, I'd spend a lot of time trying to figure out how I could do live screenings of NBA and NFL games and episodes of shows like Love Island with happy hour prices on drinks and snacks. The complaint that people don't go to the movie theaters and support great, original movies is too much of a victim mindset.

The first question should be: how do we get audiences to remember and feel that watching movies in a crowd is a fun behavior they should do more often.

It’s a shame the Civil Rights Era is always discussed like talking point and not like brilliant psychological warfare.

No one has waged a more effective internal insurgency against a global superpower without using material force than African-Americans did from 1950 to 1970. The Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act are such insane accomplishments that will never be duplicated again in scale or scope and will remain unmatched.

Obama's election transferred a lot of power to one person.

The Acts transferred a lot of power to millions.

The psychoanalysis of Sinners is that there's twins inside Coogler and both want to entertain his community.

But, after success and pleasing his ancestors, he fears that vampires have now come to exploit him.

The problem is that his community are entertained by the vampires. It's a big Hollywood film that's currently entertaining his community and the racist, previous owner of the juke joint is named "Hogwood."

I feel like Sinners is a personal, exploration of his uncertainty with becoming an event filmmaker.

What does success invite in?

The thing that keeps fascinating me about Wicked (2024) is that it’s obviously an extremely racial story but many people don’t think it is.

It’s fascinating to see this scale of cognitive dissonance and shows why it’s near impossible to have a meaningful discourse on race. It’s like there’s some great divide between people who understand symbolism, allusions, metaphors, subtext and those who just don’t.

And what’s even stranger is that when you tell people there’s hidden meaning, they almost seem to get mad at you.

This applies everywhere.

Re-watched The Invitation (2015).

It probably should be considered one of the greatest horror movies ever.

A man and his girlfriend are invited to a dinner party hosted by his ex-wife and and attended by their old friends. That movie is such a tense exploration of an extremely important social question:

What is the exact line in polite company which will cause you to become impolite?

It’s easy to say it’s a bright line.

But, most people will let their bright lines get crossed.

One of the more surreal parts of reality is how many people have deeply held beliefs that would completely collapse under minor questioning in a courtroom. I really do think the point of no return for America was when we decided that the opinion of an average person and the opinion of an expert were equally valid.

I get envious of art museums and art installations because their appeal doesn’t seem to be:

“If you come, you will love it.”

But, rather:

“If you come, the experience will be interesting and thought-provoking.”

And it sucks that our culture forces movies into the former. Cultural incuriousness towards weird movies creates a downstream effect where “universal acclaim” becomes the goal.

Part of me wishes people stopped writing whether a movie was good or bad and instead just wrote about a personal memory the movie reminded them of.

I’m realizing that most of my reactions to almost everything can be summed up as follows:

I’m astonished that a human adult would think that’s a reasonable thing to do. If you’re capable of a high level of reading comprehension, logical and predictive reasoning and emotional regulation.

It almost feels like you’re just a different sort of human being.

I’d read an essay on male and female monologues in cinema.

I have a theory that because misogyny is real, the female monologue is an inherently more assertive act.

As in: it’s common to hear a man roar.

But, then you hear Julia Fiona Roberts. An effective monologue occurs when someone (loudly or softly) revokes the ability to be interrupted.

It is a masculine, conversational gesture and, as such, it feels especially strong when the feminine form claims it.

Nicole Mary Kidman.

Okay.

I feel like Kendrick’s and Drake’s battle gave us an extremely high profile case to really consider Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.

Drake finishes his tour on April 5th.

Then, with a verse on Like That.

Kendrick launches a surprise and direct attack on April 6th. Kendrick aside.

It was immediately clear that Drake’s former friends (Metro, Ross, Weeknd, Rocky) were openly attacking him in unison and Like That itself was sanctioned by Drake’s best collaborator (Future).

In a battle of exposing secrets.

This should’ve alarmed Drake.

I do think your ability to look self-possessed at the Met Gala —-

“calm, confident, and in control of one's feelings; composed”

—- is directly correlated to the amount of fame you can achieve.

I think fame is dependent upon the amount of attention you can withstand.





I think looks and talent *increase* the amount of fame you can achieve.

But, I don’t think they’re actually *required* to achieve fame.

Being able to withstand attention is an actual requisite for fame.

Most humans get extremely nervous speaking in front of a crowded room.

If you told Killers from the Osage perspective, the non-Osage audience would directly identify with them.

By keeping Burkhart as the protagonist, Scorsese prevents this.

Then, using the old Cowboys-vs-Indians structure, Scorsese indicts us to show who the actual savages are. Scorsese ends Wolf with a similar accusation.

Three hours of a terrible human and here we are still hanging on every word.

Scorsese uses Leo’s charisma in both films not because Scorsese likes the character.

But, because he wants to show how easily we’d go along with it.

Alright.

Last thread.

This one is on the basics of “shot-reverse-shot”, “single shots” and “over-the-shoulder shots”.

If you’re filming a shot of a person and a shot of who they’re engaged with.

That’s called “shot”/“reverse shot”.





When you’re covering dialogue through shot-reverse-shot, you can do it in “single shots”.

Which is what it sounds like.

A single actor in frame at a time.

To me, that can cause some distance between the characters, in part, because we can’t see how close they are.

That other thread went well.

So, this is a thread on the basics of the zoom and the dolly.

A zoom means the lens moved, not the camera.

A dolly means the camera moved smoothly. But, the lens did not move.

To me, zooms change “information”.

But, dollies change “intensity”. Look at an object across the room.

Think with your eyes for a second.

Imagine that you could zoom in on it and see small details.

You’d feel like you were getting “information”, right?

But, what if you floated towards it?

As if summoned by it.

That might look “intense”.

This thread is for people who are curious about some film basics.

This is a low, Dutch angle two-shot.

That probably doesn’t mean much.

But, here’s why this image feels like it does. That image was a “low angle”.

If the camera is placed low and pointed up, it’s a low angle.

If it’s placed high and pointed down, it’s a “high angle”.

Here’s one.

It looks as if we’re high above Bruce and looking down.

As a result, do we feel more powerful than him?

I’m so baffled at how this didn’t get more attention.

But, there is a screwball noir about two young sweethearts that steal from the wrong family.

It features a hysterical Damon Wayans and a ruthless Pam Grier.

It’s fantastic, called Cinnamon (2023) and is available on Tubi. Also.

This feels like it could’ve easily worked as a Netflix series.

That said, I am truly platform agnostic.

So, if a black director makes a great film on a rock, I will find it.

But, for now, Bryian Keith Montgomery Jr. made a fun ass film and it’s on Tubi.

I went to a friend’s inaugural film festival yesterday and saw a few shorts.

There is one docushort about Jalaiah Harmon and her creation of the Renegade dance

that just plainly shows the explosive potential of black creativity when it is surrounded by deep parental love. Also saw Shayla Racquel and Janeen Talbot’s Robyn Hood (2021).

The tone changes are so well done, it felt like a smooth streetcar changing gears.

You’re in a romcom.
Then, an erotic thriller.
Then, a horror comedy.
Then, just a horror.

I loved Nope (2022) and thought it was Peele’s most personal film and felt like him wrestling with the burden of becoming an Event Filmmaker.

A film about the ethics of capturing the horrific, of exploiting one’s trauma for spectacle.

A devil’s deal with a literal Monkey’s Paw. In the film, all of the horrific consequences come from people attempting to exploit for gain.

Reminded me of where Peele got the name for Monkeypaw Productions.

A “three wishes” short story where wishes are granted but with grotesque interpretations.

Each month that goes by, I like really need the Harvard Business School case study on exactly how a small budget, coming-of-age film about a queer, black boy with no stars made $65 million, won Best Picture and set its distributor up for a multi-billion dollar valuation. This morning, I was looking at box office returns (measured against budgets) for films I really liked this year and Moonlight’s marketing and distribution strategies took a perfect film and just absolutely nailed it somehow.

I’ve been trying to understand what honestly makes me like a movie, and I realized that I like a movie when it feels like consciousness.

I’ve had a hard time explaining that. But, I’ve just found “neurocinema.”

That cinema can mimic consciousness and we respond strongly. Here’s another way to put it.

I think what makes a great director great is that they can take any idea from their head, and somehow Frankenstein it.

The film now feels like it’s alive, aware, sentient.

This is mesmerizing on a neurological level.

In 1936, a 20-year-old director received federal funds to stage an all-black adaptation of Macbeth.

The adaptation was set in Haiti and premiered in Harlem.

Thousands attended.

It received rave reviews and launched the director’s career.

His name was Orson Welles. The foundational director of America cinema got his chance at prominence because of his access to black talent.

This is an American story that has repeated itself an infinite amount of times throughout this country’s history.

The end.