Directed by: RaMell Ross
Screenwriters: RaMell Ross, Joslyn Barnes, Colson Whitehead (what IMDB says)
Starring: Ethan Herisse, Brandon Wilson, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor (what IMDB says)
Dear RaMell Ross & Co.,
Your movie makes me sad. At first, it made me angry. Do you want to know why? Because I wanted to love the young men in the film, and feel my heart open—but instead, I felt like your camera got in the way of me seeing them and feeling them.
I’m being honest with you. I know it’s not popular to be honest. I know that I am a white woman, and the story or theory or thesis can be, “A white woman can’t really know the experience of a young black man, and who is she to suggest she knows how to view a film, because she is viewing it from her lens of privilege.”
Mm-hmm. I get the politics of academia, and the politics of conservatives, and the politics of liberals, and the yadda yadda yadda.
The thing about me, is I am also—first and foremost, actually—a human being.
I am a person.
I have taught a lot of classes, and I’m not interested in my name being in some journal because I came up with a good theory that got me a name, and a ticket on a plane to a university, so I could speak about my “theory” and make some extra cash and see some sights, and have a few fancy dinners.
I actually care about people. I actually really care about kids. And I care about kids who are of all ethnicities and nationalities. I look at them, and my mother’s heart is pure, and I want them to live a life of vitality, and fulfillment, and joy. And I want to honor their light.
And your film didn’t do this, in my opinion. Your film was more about you. It was about the concept of the film, rather than seeing and feeling if it actually works as a film.
There are some beautiful shots. I started watching and was so excited about the beauty of the shots. But the film is about young men, right? And it just felt theoretical rather than true.
And we need truth right now. We need loving, humble, truth that is so true.
Trooooooo. Treeeeewwwwww.
Anyway, I figured it was some academic experiment, and you wanted us to feel uncomfortable while watching. My perspective is mine, and perhaps other people had/have different perspectives.
I was at this film screening of amateur filmmakers recently, because I wanted to show one of my strange films, and I put my name on the list, and I almost never get picked. I don’t know the right people in charge, or my name is too pretty, or I’m to pretty—I don’t know the reason I don’t get picked. My point is, I watched a bunch of stuff that just bothered me so much, and I wanted to just stand up and tell people, “Why are you trying to make film? You’re not good at it. This story isn’t relevant, or it’s not told well. Do you just want to play with your camera and your technology? Are you just drunk and high and watching a lot of pornography, and creating this series of images that makes you feel like a god?”
I didn’t say any of that. I smiled and met a couple of nice women, and moved on. I probably won’t go back to that event, because my time is worth something. Which is why I walked out of your movie, too. I paid $14 to see that stuff you made, and I see young people every day in person who need love and support and good art, and I couldn’t get you out of the way of me experiencing a story by what is supposed to be a great American author—Colson Whitehead. I haven’t read his books, but my friend who went with me—and walked out with me—did read his book, and she liked it. She didn’t like your movie, either.
Now, I have been in a few situations where I am judged by the color of my skin, and not by the content of my character. I am judged also because of what I wear, or the art I create. I have experienced that, and I know that sometimes people just have a different point of view, and they can either respect my point of view, or they can tell me I’m garbage. So I am not telling anyone that their art is garbage, but I do think that the art gives a significant clue into the interior space of the maker. And if the maker can’t get out of the way and become invisible, so that the art speaks for itself—well then I tell the maker, you’re not the one I am going to listen to.
I made a little movie like yours, too. When I began watching Nickel Boys, I remembered my little movie. I had sent it to a guy who was a film guy, and I thought maybe he’d give me some feedback, but he never did. And then I wondered if what he was really going to do, was take my idea, and share it with his friends, and make money on it, and never give me any credit. Who knows. You really don’t know if someone is going to steal from you, or honor you, or just ignore you, until you know.
Anyway, here is my movie, if you or anyone else would like to watch. It is less than 5 minutes, and it is called Rose Avenue. It is free to watch. I made it in Venice Beach, Los Angeles, California—before the recent wildfires tore through the county.
Also, I made a musical playlist for this week, using my vinyl records. This is a big big week. We are called to hold space for the truth—all the truth. And we are made to become free and heal and offer light, and realize who we are, and inspire others to become true to themselves, too.
I love you, which is why I am writing you this message. I do not know you, but I know love. Here is some of love love and I hope it feels like it.
(I used to title my mix-tapes with a line from one of the songs, which is what I have done here.)
Get in touch if you want to talk more about how we can make kids feel seen and heard and rise up through their challenges, and help adults love better.
Blessings,
Ms. Wonderful
P.S. Writing this film blog doesn’t earn me any money and it doesn’t always make me feel good. I still do it.