Rize

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

“Then maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.” Jeremiah 31:13

Brought to us by director David LaChapelle (the fashion photographer whose contribution to pop culture includes the Christina Aguilera’s "Dirrty" video), Rize is a documentary chronicling the practice of "Clowning" and "Krumping." Odds are that you’ve never heard of either way of dancing, though you may have seen the hyper-kinetic hip-hop dance stylings in videos (the dance moves are often so frenetic that the film has to assure us that the frames haven’t been sped up).

The movie makes the case that this radical dance form plays an enormous (potential) role in the black communities in South Central Los Angeles. The dancing is important as a serious form of spiritual and artistic expression—and as an alternative to gang participation.

The movie opens by putting the movement in a historical context, tracing the history of South Central from the Civil Rights era riots to the post-Rodney King verdict riots. It was in response to the 1992 riots that “ghetto celebrity” Tommy Johnson (Tommy the Clown) created what he would call Clowning. Tommy, up until then, had been involved in a life of gang-banging and drug dealing. "Living like that," he says, "you either wind up shot dead or in jail. I was lucky. I wound up in jail." Jail afforded him the opportunity to examine his life as he turned to God, asking for another chance to turn his life around. He started his clown group as a way of entertaining at parties, to provide laughs and make people happy. One of his early disciples branched off, developing an alternative style dubbed Krumping (for those keeping score at home, apparently all Clowns “krump”, but not all Krumps “clown”).

The movie builds to the event known as the Battle Zone, an organized competition between clown groups. This speaks to the historical competitive nature of creative expression within the black community (see the rap battles depicted in the movie 8 Mile). This fifth Battle Zone proves so popular that it is held in the Great Western Forum.

“When you’re drowning and you see a board floating by, you’re gonna grab that board.” Dragon

The cauldron that this seemingly strange dance form sprang from is the day-to-day inner city life. When presented with a situation of no money, no hope, no justice, and limited educational resources—combined with the daily reality of drugs and violence—pain and anger need an outlet. As the dancers observe, when one grows up on a steady diet of violence, robbing, and dealing, some people “catch a feel for it.” Others look elsewhere for something positive. And, as it has so often been before, the outlet comes in the form of music and dance, artists creating something useful out of what life has handed them. (It is interesting to note that the dancers resent the fact that the only after-school programs offered to them are sports, as if that was the only way for them to express themselves. Not everyone in black communities plays basketball or football.)

This isn’t the first time that oppressive conditions have spawned musical/cultural movements within the black community; spirituals, the blues, doo-wop and soul are all fueled by the focused pain and anger that gave rise to hip-hop as the dominant form of expression. This “ghetto ballet” appears to be the next evolutionary step of break-dancing. The dancers form their own troupes, much like gang sets, paint their faces like warriors, then meet to combat/outperform rival gangs of dancers and hone their skills. (An oddly surreal moment comes when one of the dancers is painted up like a character from the movie, The Warriors. All of a sudden, it felt like life had come full circle. You almost get the feel that this is a mockumentary, except that the reality of one of the dancers being randomly gunned down reminds us of the desperatel reality of this struggle for beauty in life within the constant shadow of death.)

The allure and draw of gangs is the illusion of family and love that they provide. Well, “illusion” may be harsh; the family in the streets gives “their idea” of love. Gang families, clown families, church families; you have a group of people from families that haven’t been this broken since the days of slavery, searching for respect and belonging. Krump-ness becomes “that closed chapter of your life–the hurt, the anger–that no one knows about.” The secret to surviving, as the older dancers seek to mentor the younger ones, is reduced to one simple rule: show them more love and they’ll overcome this.

“There’s a spirit in the midst of krump-ness.” Dragon

I don’t have to make spiritual connections with this movie because it does it for me. There is a natural connectedness between worship and dance, worship and spirit. This exploration of dance took the dancers back to their roots as they danced from their spirit. “I get my Krump from Jesus,” Miss Prissy says plainly. “God started me on this way,” and she uses the gift that she’s been given.

In their efforts to connect with something higher, the dancers draw on African dance and ritual (a point driven home in the movie with a side-by-side comparison to tribal dancers). The herky-jerky movements remind me of the “riding of spirits” (where people danced until “possessed” by spirits), or ceremonies of worship traditions. One dancer even hits this ecstatic plateau in mid-performance. It’s a flow, it’s a vibe, it’s a connection; or as one dancer proclaims, “once you see the real thing, you will know the real thing.”

For the dancers, Krumping takes on a transcendent purpose, becoming a way of life vital to who they are. At its core is the need to keep things real, placing itself in direct opposition to the bling-bling/commercial mentality of today’s hip-hop culture. The kids want the moral foundation, the realness of things of substance. They want to matter. This search for authenticity has gotten me thinking about the idea of the ancient-future: the idea of re-examining where you are and where you are heading in light of re-connecting to your past traditions.

There has been an on-going conversation within the (postmodern) church about the disconnect from its rich theological and ecclesial traditions. “Ancient” refers to the teachings, doctrines, worship, ethics, morality and practices of the Church, embracing the full traditions and timeless teachings of historic Christianity. “Future” is the re-contextualization of the faith—making the Gospel relevant and able to speak to the new challenges of our culture, without sacrificing our Tradition on the altar of secular, popular, and cultural traditions. Ancient-Future worship has depth, is participatory, and is passionate. Such worship wants to move past performance and get to the real thing: God-directed, genuine worship.

I’ve been concerned that this on-going conversation hasn’t seemed to include African American churches. There is a longing that goes beyond some of the modern tendencies of the church, and the consumer-driven “Gospel” that pervades it, especially in the African American church. There are African and African-American faith practices and traditions that shouldn’t be ignored if the church is to be relevant to all peoples. The movie itself ends with white people and the Asian communities embracing the dance form.

In Rize, you have inner city kids–disenfranchised people that the American society is quick to try and forget–trying to find their way in the world. In the midst of the pathologies that plague their environment, they seek to express themselves. They re-visit the past in the form of ancient African dance, combining it with hip-hop dance, and connecting with God. It makes me want to repeat the passage from Jeremiah (31:13): “Then maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.” Or as Dragon simply puts it “we’re gonna rise no matter what.”

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

Medium

—Review
—Photos

Medium: 1) a person claiming to be in contact with the spirits of the dead; 2) to communicate between the dead and the living; 3) a mid-season replacement television drama on NBC...

A stylish show at that, one that’s well-acted and has witty dialogue. That’s no surprise once you take a look at who’s involved: creator Glenn Caron (Moonlighting, Remington Steele); known genre writers like Rene Echevarria (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and executive producer of The 4400) and Moira Dekker (Dark Angel, The Dead Zone).

Based on real-life clairvoyant Allison DuBois, Patricia Arquette (not new to genre work, acting in Stigmata and A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors) wakes from dreams of the future and speaks with the dead on a far-too-frequent basis. Almost like The Sixth Sense: the Series, except that she’s found a way to let her gift pay the bills. She’s called in to consult with the District Attorney’s (Miguel Sandoval) office.

''I see the truth. It's like a freakin' television show!'' Allison DuBois

One of the things that makes this show different is that the lead character, Allison Dubois, is not always likeable. Almost every scene that takes place in their home has alcohol present, a subtle reminder to a throwaway line from the pilot that she drinks to quiet “the voices.” Her gift crowds her bedroom (the dead are always around her) and thus impacts her marriage, especially her husband, played by Jake Weber: it’s hard to talk to someone who is (or thinks that she is) one step ahead of you.

One of my favorite episodes, starring Reed Diamond (from the great Homicide: Life on the Streets), encapsulates all the things that I like so much about the show. Allison dreams about a man who has come to kidnap her daughter. Upon arriving at her job, she finds the man in the D.A.’s office stepping forward as a “Good Samaritan.” He witnessed a robbery and had come forward to offer his full cooperation. Come to find out that her dream involves what he might become, a horrific serial killer, some ten years down the road. She has to confront true evil, referring to him alternately as the bad Samaritan, the golem, the devil, or simply a monster. One of the more creative depictions on the show has the flashes into the killer’s mind portrayed over a comic book-like illustrated background.

“I will set my face against the person who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute himself by following them, and I will cut him off from his people.” Leviticus 20:6

Of course, the immediate response in terms of finding a spiritual connection might be to dismiss this show as another sign of our culture trying to mainstream the occult. It’s a knee-jerk response that’s intellectually simple and accomplishes little in terms of wrestling with people and the art that they produce where they are. Still, I can't out-of-hand dismiss such critics.

Now the passage from Leviticus may fall under the category of Old Testament rules, but the point of the passage remains that consulting practitioners of the occult (mediums and spiritists) was no less a sin that being one. This was a sin because only God was to be consulted (through either a priest or prophet, back in the day). [In terms of context, this also sheds a special light on the story of the time when King Saul—the ruler before King David—knowing the laws that he was under, turned around and consulted a medium (the Witch of Endor) in I Samuel 28.]

Allison DuBois is not a religious person though she recognizes that she has a spiritual gift, given from a higher power. What needs to be remembered is that the Bible, from beginning to end, is a supernatural book where magic is treated as real: from the sorcerers that competed against Moses before Pharaoh to the diviners, magicians, and sorcerers of the Babylonian court to the sorcerer who followed the apostles around trying to bribe them to show him how to do miracles.

The occult, unseen spirits, are serious business, so I understand the need for vigilance. Shows like Medium remind us of their reality. We don’t like to be reminded of the spiritual battles waged around us—or we do the other extreme and see the Devil behind every bush. This unseen realm is a mystery to us. However, many critics cross the line from vigilance into hypersensitivity, becoming guilty of fanning the flames of hysteria in order to pursue their own agendas. Before we start casting judgments, we have to remember that the practicing and consulting of mediums was condemned, not the depiction, even as entertainment, of them.

This is an issue that I’m especially sensitive to since I catch similar flak as a horror writer. I’m accused of inviting in evil, playing with supernatural trivia via stories, or making the supernatural alluring or intriguing. It’s one thing to argue that the Harry Potter films and books have the context of make-believe or present the occult as allegorical cautionary tales, but there’s nothing allegorical about Medium. She is what she is and doesn’t care if you believe her. There is real evil in the world, real spiritual forces around us; but creating fear-mongering over television, movies, and books is not the source of it.

Medium is stocked with great characters walking through well-written stories. Knowing that the show is based on an actual woman makes the show all the more interesting. It has enough twists and turns, some creepy moments, to be truly engaging. All delivered with a deft hand and generous dashes of humor.

—Review
—Photos

Fantastic Four

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

I wasn’t asking for much, I just didn’t want this movie to suck. A few years ago, there was this cinematic travesty that I bore witness to: the Roger Corman adaptation of the Fantastic Four. There was a battle going back and forth over the rights for the comic book (and Chris Columbus was interesting in making a big budget version). Made for a few million dollars, the movie was a quickie release made solely to force the studio to buy back the rights, because they’d never want a stinker of a movie to be floating around while trying to put together a big budget production (though a few copies ended up in circulation).

Do you remember how enjoyable a movie The Incredibles was? It was basically an animated version of the Fantastic Four, with the members being a family. In fact, an early script draft of the Fantastic Four portrayed the members as a family, to the cries of protests from the purists. Instead, what we get is an ersatz family, that puts the ‘F’ in dysfunction.

You’ll have to excuse the muddled tirade of my thoughts. I have collected the Fantastic Four comic book on and off for years. Though it was the book that essentially launched Marvel Comics, it has languished in the shadows, not getting the attention of Spider-man, the Hulk, or the X-men. Part of my frustration lies in the fact that in the right hands, there is potential for a breezy action adventure movie centered around the chemistry of four compatriots. In the wrong hands–and as I feared, these were those hands–it would be a lackluster, uninspired exercise in cinematic mediocrity.

There were changes from the comic book which is to be expected in any translation from one medium to another. Victor Von Doom is a smarmy businessman originally from Latveria but now thoroughly enmeshed in American capitalism. In fact, he and Reed Richards seem to be more business rivals than scientific ones. There are interesting role reversals, as Susan Storm starts off working for Victor and is his love interest while Reed is a bankrupt scientist looking for another chance. Speaking of reversals, Johnny Storm apparently started off as the junior officer trained by Ben Grimm who ends up his commanding officer.

Thin is the word that best describes this movie. The acting is thin. Jessica Alba (fresh from Sin City) demonstrates why her physique is the best part of her acting repertoire as she veers between nag and object to be ogled. Nothing about her character or her portrayal says lead geneticist. Julian McMahon plays a variation of Christian Troy, his character from Nip/Tuck, attempting to chew scenery but not being able to convey anything close to charismatic arch-villain. Michael Chiklis (The Shield) is a marvel as The Thing. Despite being under layers of latex, he brings out Ben Grimm’s humanity. But Chris Evans’ one-note performances of the Human Torch matches Ioan Gruffudd’s one-note performance of Mr. Fantastic. Basically, we’re told about the characters and we’re supposed to accept that and move on.

The dialogue is thin, the spouted lines ending up sounding more corny than anything else. That is, when the dialogue wasn’t tipping its heavy hand trying to foreshadow future (lack of) action. The fun is thin. The movie tries too hard to have a sense of whimsey which then comes across a little forced. The direction of the movie made me long for the intensity of The Incredibles. The Fantastic Four is fairly slow-moving. Well, maybe not slow, but a lot of time seems to be wasted in the audience getting to know the characters, even for an origins film. Plus the movie seems impressed with its CGI budget and wanting the audience to revel in every instance of the movie-makers’ use of effects.

“What if we got this power for a higher calling?” Johnny Storm (The Human Torch)

This movie is about perceptions: who we are and our need to fill certain roles in life. The quartet of heroes gains its powers due to an accident of hubris as they were in pursuit of learning the origins of life. Each of them gains powers based on personality: Reed Richards was always stretching, reaching for new possibilities; Johnny Storm was a bit of a hothead, impetuous and often unthinking; Ben Grimm did the heavy lifting of the group; Sue Storm simply wanted to be seen and no longer ignored.

“Being different isn’t always a bad thing.” Alicia Masters

However, they all have trouble seeing themselves. Johnny enjoys celebrity and the trappings of popularity, seeing himself through the adulation of others. Reed is not able to see himself for who he is, a hero, a leader. Ben sees himself as a monster, though a new acquaintance (Alicia Masters, portrayed by Kerry Washington) sees the man inside. Susan isn’t seen by the man that she loves.

“If there’s a God, he hates me.” Ben Grimm (The Thing)

It’s like they were all trapped by these false ideas of themselves. These false selves, these false ways that we see ourselves, start developing when we’re young. How our family shape us, how we let our friends define us. We derive our self-worth from what we do, we’re of value because of how we behave or what we have. And yet some part of us is miserable under this definition of who we are and longs to find a way out from under it.

“This is what a man looks like who embraces his destiny.” Victor Von Doom (Dr. Doom)

“I’m good as is.” Ben Grimm (The Thing)

So we need a better definition, a new identity, one that we can find in God. A true self, coming as a result of loving and being loved by God. Once we have our identity in Him and in loving others, we can start building this true self. Understanding and living this truth is what brings true freedom. Once the Four refused to define themselves by what they had (or didn’t have) or what people said about them, they were on the road to being the heroes they were called to be.

Aimed at the PG-13 crowd, the Fantastic Four is a weak and wildly uneven movie at worst, a light hearted romp not meant to be taken too seriously, at best. You can see the diamond in the rough of something that could be great, which is essentially what we all are. But only if it, like us, pursues what it was created to be.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

Review by Kevin Miller
Review by Maurice Broaddus
Review by Jacob Sahms