The Sun Is Also A Star: A Fairytale Teen Romance, A NYC Valentine

The Sun Is Also A Star
directed by Ry Russo-Young, starring Yara Shahidi, Charles Melton

The Sun Is Also A Star is a fairy tale, adapted from the popular YA novel by Nicola Yoon. It's a day in the life of Natasha Kingsley (grown-ish's Yara Shahidi), a high school senior from a Jamaican immigrant family in Brooklyn who makes a last-ditch effort to prevent them all from being deported the very next day. By pure chance, on the way to INS in Federal Plaza, she crosses paths with Daniel Bae (Riverdale's Charles Melton), a high school senior from a Korean immigrant family in Queens who, while on his way to a future he doesn't want as a Dartmouth medical school student, decides that Natasha is his destiny. All of this information is easily gleaned from the many TV promos and theater previews we've seen of the film. To add a twist, Natasha is presented as a smart, data-obsessed realist who doesn't believe in love while Daniel is willing to buck a medical career because of his obsession with poetry.

For reasons that I don't get, and only serve the film, the two are obsessed with the concept of Deus Ex Machina, which as I understand it is a term applied to narratives like this one where an unexplained and totally contrived miracle save the day. There are numerous coincidences in the film, first with Daniel spotting Natasha in Grand Central Station and trying to follow her (stalker), then in randomly seeing her again on the downtown subway and then snatching her back from being hit by a reckless driver on the street. And that's just for starters. For these two lovebirds, the term "Deus Ex Machina" (emblazoned on the back of Natasha's satin jacket) seems to simply mean fate and miracles. But for those who craft narratives, it's a cheap solution for wrapping up a plot that has become way too hairy to resolve in a realistic way. And that's exactly what we get here.

It's a fairy tale to think that love can be achieved in one single day. In this story, though Natasha states early on that she doesn't believe in love, after a few hours with this tall, handsome stranger she is eagerly making out with him (hormones, people.) It's also a distinctly female fantasy to have a gorgeous young man be completely dedicated to making love happen within a day, and Daniel is sexy and persistent without seeming creepy. And only in a fairy tale would a busy immigration lawyer (played by John Leguizamo) turn into a fairy godmother who takes on the case of a last-minute teenaged client. It would also take a fairy tale for a pair of teenagers to spend the night together sleeping outside in the park and not be a. mugged, b. arrested, or c. beaten within an inch of their lives by worried parents.

Like the walking-and-talking-across-the-city film tradition it follows, most notably the Ethan Hawke-Julie Delpy trilogy Before Sunrise/Before Sunset/Before Midnight and even the Chris Rock-Rosario Dawson comedy Top Five, The Sun Is Also A Star has the two leads pose leading questions that pull these two met-cute young folks into thoughtful discussion and instant intimacy while making the rounds of appointments and errands across the city. They encounter some hurdles, most notably when Natasha finally reveals that she's on the verge of leaving the country for good and that they have no viable future. Their only culture clash seems to come from his family; when Natasha comes along as Daniel delivers a bank deposit to his father's business, it turns out to be a black hair care emporium in Harlem (Daniel gives us a history of how Koreans cornered the black hair market). While there, his lunkhead brother makes a racist joke about her being a shoplifter and his father offers her the economy sized jar of relaxer to tame her natural hair. The scene is awkward and mortifying; out on the street again with Daniel, Natasha shrugs it off.

There is no denying the physical beauty and sex appeal of the film's two stars, and the camera lingers lovingly on their faces to make sure that we fall in love with them, too. What's more, they are given interesting and romantic backdrops from the big city in which to fall, adding to the spell the film attempts to weave. The idea of a romance that could occur in one day between two apparently thoughtful and aware young people seemed appealing to my middle-aged sensibilities. Even though I am old enough so that the pillow-lipped Shahidi and dimpled Melton could be my grandchildren. As I watched the film I became deeply and profoundly affected, yea, near tears with sentimental longing and romantic regret. Did my tears well up in response to the burgeoning and rather hasty and oh so unrealistic teen romance beign presented as the film's primary narrative? No. My emotions were pricked by my love of New York City.

Big Apple, I miss you so much! Though we had to break up our love affair, I still treasure our precious memories.

You see, New York City is the town where I was born and raised. I haven't lived there for a few decades now. But glimpsed lovingly through the lens of cinematographer Autumn Durald, as lead characters Natasha and Daniel spend a day wandering, the city today looked as appealing, challenging, beautiful and grimey as ever. In The Sun Is Also A Star, viewers ride the subway along elevated tracks from the boroughs, and underground from Wall Street to 125th Street, from Borough Hall to East 86th Street. We revisit Caffe Reggio, a landmark of Greenwich Village. We glide through the Hayden Planetarium on the upper East Side, watching the sky show. We stroll through Chinatown and SoHo and along the East River. We get to ride the tram to Roosevelt Island. We traverse 125th Street in Harlem. We cross Broadway and Lincoln Center and spend moments in the marble great room at Grand Central Station considering its zodiac-emblazoned ceiling. The camera pans over the city's bridges, Central Park, the Chrysler Building. And I'm swooning.

I was instantly brought back to the days of my teenage years, when I knew almost every corner and every neighborhood of Manhattan and felt lucky to be there. Because mine was an untraditional school, our gym classes were held in Central Park or Hunter College or at the 14th Street Bowl-Mor Lanes (now demolished) and we had to get ourselves there on time the best way we could, as though we were already in college. We frequented foreign films on East 68th street, and midnight showings at blockbuster cinemas in Times Square or on 96th Street, we went clubbing around the East Side, shopped bargains along Delancey and Canal Streets, went to the Jazzmobile shows outside by Grant's Tomb on Riverside Drive, went roller-skating indoors in the meatpacking district, took dance and music lessons in Harlem, rode the Staten Island ferry back and forth for fun. Living in the outer boroughs, as some of my friends and I did, meant that when we went into The City on the weekends or during the summers, we stayed for the day; we found ways to kill time in department stores, hotel lounge areas, park benches, the museums, the 42nd Street Fifth Avenue Library, neighborhood cafes and luncheonettes, and movie matinees. When carfare was an issue, we walked the city blocks from the east side to the west side, from uptown to midtown and back, particularly in the summers. The food we ate -- the bagels and street cart hotdogs and knishes and hot pretzels and toasted chestnuts and Jamaican meat patties and cuchifritos and Chinese dumplings and pizza -- oh the pizza! We didn't have cars, we didn't go to high school dances, we had no prom, our parents didn't belong to clubs. We were very independent big city kids. And that's what this movie reminded me of, the golden days when New York was my playground.

But I digress. As in most fairy tales, eventually there is a happy ending. Though things looked bleak for our modern-day Romeo and Juliet, and they were lost to one another, coincidence -- nay, Deus-ex-Machina aka an act of God -- puts the erstwhile lovers in the same place at the same time and the film ends with a kiss, as all good love stories should.

The story doesn't make a lot of earthly sense, but it's sweet and a great vehicle for its stars. In the meantime, I'm planning to head back to the Big Apple for a visit quite soon.

Thoughts on "Baby It's Cold Outside": Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go

"Baby It's Cold Outside"
written by Frank Loesser, 1944



These are expanded comments I made about the song during the opening of the Dec. 6 "Words On Flicks" podcast.

There is a current controversy going on about the age-old ditty "Baby It's Cold Outside," a song associated with winter and the holidays because of its references to frosty weather. Many radio stations have decided to pull the song from their holiday broadcast playlists because of complaints that it condones date rape and is triggering to victims of sexual abuse. Others say, Get over it -- it's just a song. I can see both sides of this debate.

CBS This Morning's Gail King spoke out on the program Wednesday defending the song, as have many other newspaper opinion pieces, while the daughter of its writer, Frank Loesser, blamed the kerfuffle on convicted sexual predator Bill Cosby, whose habit of drugging victims brought new attention to the line "say, what's in this drink?"

Why it's pertinent to Words On Flicks is because "Baby It's Cold Outside" was popularized when it appeared in a movie, the 1949 romantic-comedy-with-music cream puff Neptune's Daughter. Starring the then-popular mermaid Esther Williams, an expert swimmer who inspired MGM to build giant tanks and stage elaborate water ballets around her, Neptune's Daughter is a fluffy mistaken-identity comedy with Ricardo Montalban as a smooth, polo-playing Latin lover.

The song "Baby It's Cold Outside" pops up as Montalban's character tries to convince Williams to stay a little longer for romance on a cold night. It's a cute and very clever duet about the cat and mouse romantic flirtation between a man and a woman. During the time it was written, the 1940s, it was a scandal for a woman to spend the whole night with a man, her "reputation" would be ruined. Men who wanted more than a few kisses or casual petting had to ramp up their persuasive techniques to get what they wanted. Women were supposed to draw the line at having sex unless there was a wedding first, or at least a ring on her finger.

According to the alternating lines of the song, the man is doing everything he can not merely to verbally convince but to physically coerce the woman to stay the night. Tp be fair, the movie Neptune's Daughter also shows the song being sung by a woman, Betty Garrett, in the pursuer's role, trying to interest Red Skelton in a romance. So the song shows both sexes as putting pressure on the other, to hilarious effect. But the song is more often heard in the classic style with the man as the aggressor.

If you listen to the whole song, at the end it seems that the woman gives in -- seemingly of her own free will -- or at least she gives up. But in a scenario like this, what could have happened if she said no? If, in fact, she insisted on leaving?

A gentleman would open the door, express regret, and graciously say goodnight. A sexual abuser would lock the door, block all exits, and attack. How do I know? Because it has happened, to me and to many others.

And that is what is triggering about this song for many. These are the same coercive lines and maneuvers that many sexual predators use to trap their targets physically and emotionally so that they cannot escape, and that place of isolation is where they feel emboldened to harass, grope and/or rape. It's all fun and games, lightness and flirtation -- until it isn't. Abusers count on the fact that women expect men to follow the rules of chivalry and courteousness in every situation; it's the benefit-of-the-doubt rule, the innocent-until-proven-guilty rule. Predators use this against victims. Their target often can't tell a good guy from a bad guy until it's too late.

Although the song ends on an upbeat note, with both parties making an informed choice, one could interpret this song as encouragement to men to press their advantage whenever and however and for as long as they can until they get the answer they want and feel entitled to.

"Baby It's Cold Outside" is a song strictly of its time, certainly a more innocent era with stricter societal mores, courtly traditions and lighthearted intent. The trouble is that the song continues to be recorded, year after year, by more contemporary artists. New generations are listening, generations for whom the year 1949 may as well be the Pleistocene Era and Esther Williams doesn't spark any glimmer of recognition, generations for whom the idea of a mother waiting by the door or a maiden aunt spreading gossip (as it says in the song) is laughable. The original intent and source of the song is lost, and all that is left are its words -- which today's listeners take on face value. And just as we know better now on other issues -- blackface and minstrelsy, stereotyping, gay bashing -- we should do better by letting questionable Hollywood fare fade into the background. To riff on another popular holiday weather tune: Let it go, let it go, let it go.

If radio stations are responding to the needs of listeners by taking this antiquated song off the air, I think that's a responsible response. And if there are people who can listen to "Baby It's Cold Outside" and hear only a playful teasing exchange between equals who are already fond of each other, then that's great too.

But I don't think those who find no problem with the song should shame or dismiss the concerns of those who do. That's just another way the very real experiences and concerns of #MeToo victims get pushed into the cold outside.

Thoughts on "Green Book": Dueling Tropes & Hijacked History, Well Executed

Green Book
directed by Peter Farrelly

These are expanded, but essentially the same comments I made about the film during the opening of Nov. 29's "Words On Flicks" podcast.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend I saw the Peter Farrelly-directed movie Green Book, starring Viggo Mortenson as Tony "Lip" Vallelonga, who finds himself employed as a driver by Mahershala Ali's Dr. Don Shirley, a noted concert pianist, on a tour through the deep south in 1960, four years before the Civil Rights Act was passed. The film is based on Vallelonga's reminiscences of their true-life friendship; however, the family of the late Don Shirley vehemently disputes its details.

Though Green Book has gotten mostly good reviews, its controversies made me a bit trepidatious about the movie before going in. I'm sure you've heard them, but I'll reiterate here:

First, the title hijacks history.

I would have preferred that a movie with this title be much more directly related to the history of this pivotal guidebook. "The Negro Motorist Green Book" was an actual publication used by African Americans during road trips across America, and particularly in the south, during segregation and Jim Crow. An African American mailman named Victor Hugo Green from New York City came up with the idea for the book in an attempt to make road travel safer for black people, and originally published it only in the NYC metro area until demand made it national.

It was published for 30 years, from 1936 to 1966. It was, unfortunately, much-needed. Though black folks were purchasing cars so they wouldn’t have to face discrimination on public transportation, they were still subjected to humiliations in terms of where they could stop, get gas, eat, get a hotel room, or even go to the bathroom – which is shown in the film. (I saw the movie Ragtime again recently, and the major conflict of the story turns on the vandalization of an automobile owned by a black piano player (Howard Rollins) by a group of white volunteer firemen in the early 1900s.)

Though Hollywood has attempted from time to time to tackle stories about key events in black history, too often the main character is a white person and the story is told through their perspective. And so it is with Green Book, a key piece of African American history reduced to an incidental part of the narrative.

Because of this history, titling the movie Green Book is misleading, as it is the story of an initially racist white man's view of one exceptional (magical) black man. Said white man has limited experience with the Green Book, makes offhand comments about its existence, and never questions its necessity with his passenger. However briefly, the Green Book itself, which is only shown a couple of times in the film that I can remember, is a symbol for the disparity between the lives of the two men. One white, with limited education, scuffling to make ends meet, but who can freely go anywhere, and the other, a multilingual, multitalented, educated black man who faces discrimination everywhere.

1 Magical Negro + 1 White Savior = ?
Secondly, the film has been criticized for being part of a long tradition in Hollywood of movies about Magical Negroes and White Saviors. (sorry if these terms offend people).

In movies about Magical Negroes, a black character selflessly helps a white person with aspects of their life out of the goodness of their hearts. Movies like The Green Mile where falsely imprisoned Michael Clarke Duncan can literally make magical miracles for everybody on Death Row but can't get himself out of prison. I saw the film once and while many people adore it, I can't stomach it. Or The Legend of Bagger Vance with Will Smith as a wise and mystical caddy to struggling golfer Matt Damon.

White Savior movies include many narratives about people of color whose circumstances can only improve by having a white person swoop in and rescue them: Avatar, The Blind Side, The Help, Dances with Wolves, Conrack, etc. "If you've been to the movies in the last half-century, you know the White Savior genre well," notes writer David Sirota in a 2013 Salon piece. "It's the catalog of films that features white people single-handedly rescuing people of color from their plight. These story lines insinuate that people of color have no ability to rescue themselves. This both makes white audiences feel good about themselves by portraying them as benevolent messiahs (rather than hegemonic conquerors), and also depicts people of color as helpless weaklings -- all while wrapping such tripe in the cinematic argot of liberation." In other words, whether ethnic tribespeople, urban dwellers, or inner-city students, these folks cannot help themselves. While many of these films are intended to show cross-cultural acceptance, what they actually portray is that only the superior ingenuity and resourcefulness of a white person -- abetted by white privilege -- can fix the problems of people of color.

In Green Book, these two tropes of Magical Negro Meets White Savior coexist -- but do they cancel each other out? Tony Lip is the White Savior: hired to be Dr. Shirley’s driver and muscle, to literally save him from any danger, but in this story Tony feels he has to teach Dr. Shirley how to be black, i.e. teaching him how to eat fried chicken, how to identify Chubby Checker and Aretha Franklin songs -- even how to throw trash onto the highway.

Meanwhile, Dr. Shirley is a Magical Negro – an amazing and highly trained pianist, able to speak multiple languages (including the Italian Tony thinks he doesn’t understand), a sensitive writer who helps Tony compose lush love letters to his wife, and ultimately – if this film is to be believed – helping Tony overcome his innate racism. Dr. Shirley's string players help Tony see that the pianist's tour through the South is not just a musical exchange, it is a crusade of courage against long-embedded racial hatred. He is not only an exceptional person of color, he's an exceptional person of ANY color. Unfortunately, movies about exceptional people of color perpetrate the idea that they are somehow not really a member of that race and exist in a universe unto themselves.

The Racialized Awkward Road Trip Movie
But movie tropes aside, I couldn't help but like the film. It falls easily into other much-beloved movie types -- the buddy film and the road picture combined, where two opposite numbers slowly come to grudging respect for the other over the course of the forced trip. As such, Green Book provides two juicy roles for these actors to dig into, and Viggo and Mahershala are fantastic. My resistance to the racial tropes of the movie began to fade in the face of their lived-in performances. I believed the situations and their growing relationship as the road trip progressed. Dr. Shirley's personal struggles in the face of racism and loneliness were palpable, thanks to Mahershala's regal portrayal; I couldn't stop thinking about the lithe, swashbuckling version of Viggo in The Lord of the Rings trilogy of a decade ago as compared to his embodiment of this beer-bellied Bronx bouncer. There was much about their journey via car across the country that felt true in both its beauty and its ugliness.

Green Book is a film with a flawed premise that is nonetheless well-executed. Your reaction to it will no doubt be related to how well you can swallow down another major movie about black history from the perspective of a non-black protagonist.

The Music Grounds It
The film has a strong sense of place and time about it – you really feel that you are back in 1960. One of the strongest elements that made the film feel so rooted in its time period is the music. Mahershala does a great job at tickling the ivories (or at least appearing to), performing unique arrangements of popular tunes like "Tea for Two" or "Happy Talk" (from South Pacific). But it’s the incidental music with great tracks from a range of artists that helped bring the flick alive, from Little Richard, Aretha Franklin and Chubby Checker to "One Mint Julep" by the Clovers, Professor Longhair’s "Go to the Mardi Gras," and many classic Christmas recordings. Toward the end of the film, when the duo are headed back to New York City, a track that I’d never heard before was played: called “Goodbye, My Lover, Goodbye” by Robert Mosely, that I instantly fell in love with and can't get out of my head. The soundtrack also has a version of the real Don Shirley playing “The Lonesome Road,” which I believe is played over the end credits.

Listen to this clip of the real Don Shirley performing "Lullaby of Birdland" and you will get a glimmer of how astounding a musician he actually was. Though the images are not of Shirley, it's the performance (starts classical, shifts to jazz) that wows.


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