‘97 Opens a New Frame of Reference

If film in 1997 will be remembered for anything other than the Big Boat, it might be remembered as a year when films by, about and starring blacks made some quiet strides.

Consider such breakout hits as “Soul Food,” a family drama starring some of the hottest black actors in Hollywood, and “Eve’s Bayou,” the most commercially successful independent film of 1997. Consider the broadening of themes in such films as “Rosewood,” “Hoodlum” and “Love Jones.” Consider a year that started out with “Booty Call” and “B.A.P.S.” and ended with “Amistad” and “Jackie Brown.”

None of these films appealed to everyone. But for all their individual faults, they offer encouraging evidence that the definition of a mainstream “black film” is expanding beyond urban action pictures or sex comedies. And the year’s biggest successes--”Soul Food” and “Eve’s Bayou”--prove that if a more complete picture of black life is going to be drawn on screen, it will be because black artists have taken charge of their own celluloid destiny.

Charles Richardson, president of Triad Communications, an entertainment marketing, advertising and public-relations firm, links what happened on the big screen with President Clinton’s dialogue on race.

“The opportunity that 1997 allowed was not only for dialogue to take place but for the visual imagery to present more than a one-dimensional dynamic of who we are,” he says. “I mean, you look at the kinds of things that happened in 1997 with Cuba Gooding winning [the Oscar for best supporting actor], with Will Smith beating the aliens and saving the world two years in a row, it suggests that there’s at least an opportunity to have a box-office presence. That the power structure will say--if not, ‘Let’s put these actors in these roles’--then ‘It can’t hurt to have these actors in these roles.’ ”

Pam Grier, who stars in Quentin Tarantino’s “Jackie Brown,” agrees. “I think it’s better,” says Grier, a cult star of the 1970s “blaxploitation” genre, which created black heroes and heroines in films laden with sex and violence. “They’re doing more character-driven stories, fleshing out the action characters more. I think filmmakers realize there’s a thirst and a demand for a good story with characters, whether it’s a comedy or drama or musical. They can’t be lazy anymore.”

Byron Lewis, chairman of UniWorld Group Inc., a New York City-based advertising agency, and a co-founder of the Acapulco Film Festival, points out that in 1997 black artists took up the production reins of some films. He points to Kenny “Babyface” Edmonds, who produced “Soul Food,” as well as writing and performing the musical score. And he mentions “Eve’s Bayou,” which Samuel L. Jackson offered to produce after he read the script.

“The fact that [“Eve’s Bayou”] was basically financed by Sam is really the beginning of cooperative efforts that go along with the ascension of stars that have box-office appeal,” Lewis says, adding that as black actors continue to collaborate with filmmakers they will broaden the scope of the black experience.

Black stars piggybacking as producers may be the stopgap solution to making more diverse films about the black experience, at least as long as corporate Hollywood remains predominantly white. There are still no black studio executives who have the power to “greenlight”--meaning release the money to produce--a film. Blacks are still underrepresented in the writing and directing ranks as well. Fewer than 200 of the more than 5,000 members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences are black; the Directors Guild of America has 365 black members out of more than 10,000.

One gauge of how well blacks are faring in the movies is the National Assn. for the Advancement of Colored People’s Image Awards, which were founded 30 years ago to recognize black achievement in the arts and entertainment. Image Awards producer Hamilton Cloud calls 1997 a breakthrough year “in terms of breadth, not so much in terms of depth.”

Cloud points out that 31 movies were submitted to the Image Awards in 1996, compared with 22 movies this year; 107 roles were submitted for consideration in the lead and supporting actor categories in 1996. In 1997, the number was 89. Actresses’ roles went from 45 to 41.

“There wasn’t as much product released,” Cloud says, explaining the dip in submissions. “But the good news is that the product that was released was broader in scope and starting to move away from the stereotypical roles.”

Jeff Lee, president of BET Networks, said: “The myths that there aren’t good black films being made has been shattered. The question is, how do you get those films in the hype machine?”

Lee is one who takes issue with 1997 being called a breakthrough year. “It’s changing a little, but it hasn’t been a consistent, year-after-year-after-year change. It’s just as easy for 1998 to go back to 1996 or 1995.”

Two films of 1997--”Rosewood” and “Love Jones”--did not attract the audiences that many critics thought they deserved. Although some black observers have criticized black audiences for flocking to exploitation comedies like “B.A.P.S.” and “Booty Call” instead (a similar argument was raised when audiences ignored Spike Lee’s 1996 ensemble drama “Get on the Bus”), others point out that neither was shrewdly marketed.

Richardson points out that blacks account for 25% of total box-office revenue. “We know they’re not just going to black movies. So if I’m going to appeal to them opening weekend, I need to do something in particular to appeal to them.”

What is rarely mentioned in discussions of why these films didn’t find their audiences is the fact that white filmgoers didn’t go to them, either, even though the historical interest of “Rosewood” is easily as high as that of “Amistad” (which is garnering a mixed audience, thanks to the imprimatur of Steven Spielberg), and the stylish romance of “Love Jones” should have appealed to young romantics of any color.

Perhaps, in addition to integrating the studios and production crews, the next frontier in black films is for white audiences to recognize themselves in black stories just as blacks have been forced to recognize themselves in white narratives for generations.

Still, there’s progress even in baby steps. Consider the integrated audiences of “Eve’s Bayou,” “Amistad,” “Jackie Brown” and films featuring such leading men as Will Smith, Samuel L. Jackson, Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman (who will appear as no less than the president of the United States in the action thriller “Deep Impact,” due out in May).

Not only are the young people who make up most of the black audience getting a wider and more accurate portrait of their own culture and possibilities, but whites may be learning something as well.

“It doesn’t go in one ear and out the other, it goes in one ear and stays,” Richardson says. “We look at film as entertainment on the surface and, secondarily, as food for our subconscious. It’s important and great that the opportunities that seem to be showing up are varied. Because all these people going to movies are getting this input.

“And the next time they interact with someone of a different race, they might have a frame of reference that will be positively drawn from these kinds of films.”