Showing posts with label Abdul Ali. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abdul Ali. Show all posts
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Monday, November 29, 2010
Playwright Marcus Gardley Talks About New Play
Hailed by critics as the next August Wilson, Gardley has a new play starring Phylicia Rashad and a promising career ahead of him.
Playwright Marcus Gardley Talks About New Play
by Abdul Ali | The Root.com
At the young age of 32, playwright Marcus Gardley has racked up several awards for his plays and is already drawing comparisons to the legendary August Wilson. A sought-after playwright in the regional theater circuit, the Oakland, Calif., native was named one of Dramatists magazine's 50 playwrights to watch.
Gardley's latest foray onto the regional stage is Every Tongue Confess, running at Washington, D.C.'s Arena Stage until Jan. 2, 2011. The play, starring Phylicia Rashad, is a moving response to an almost forgotten racial inferno of the mid-1990s, when hundreds of black churches in the South were mysteriously burned.
Gardley spoke to The Root about being a young playwright, how he got started and how he really feels about being compared to August Wilson.
The Root: I first heard of you when you were compared to August Wilson in the New York Times. How do you feel about that?
Marcus Gardley: I struggled with that a lot. I love August Wilson, but I don't want to be the second coming of anyone. It's definitely a compliment. But I think in the theater, we tend to put people in boxes. He [Wilson] was more interested in naturalism and realism. And I am not. I appreciate and love naturalism, but I don't do it well. So my fear was, if people came to my play expecting to see a naturalistic play, they'd be turned off by the magic realism that I'm very much in the school of. I hope that the work I create can be in dialogue with his. And I hope more young writers can be a part of this conversation. There's a tendency to pick one. August Wilson was "one" for so many years. He fought to not be the only one. There's a way to celebrate the diversity.
TR: As a storyteller, what are your thoughts about contemporary film and theater?
MG: I see a lot of movies and feel like I can do a better job. It's all about opportunity. Theater has become so expensive, and my audience is young and they can't afford it. My job is to write to all people. Sometimes I think, why am I wasting my time? I honestly don't know why I haven't left [to work in TV or film]. It's just that I'm called to do this. I have had a lot of older people come up to me and say they don't get it. They say my play is too loud. There's too much going on. Subscribers tend to be older and white; I want to find a way to bring more young people and diverse groups into theater.
Read the Full Interview @ The Root
Playwright Marcus Gardley Talks About New Play
by Abdul Ali | The Root.com
At the young age of 32, playwright Marcus Gardley has racked up several awards for his plays and is already drawing comparisons to the legendary August Wilson. A sought-after playwright in the regional theater circuit, the Oakland, Calif., native was named one of Dramatists magazine's 50 playwrights to watch.
Gardley's latest foray onto the regional stage is Every Tongue Confess, running at Washington, D.C.'s Arena Stage until Jan. 2, 2011. The play, starring Phylicia Rashad, is a moving response to an almost forgotten racial inferno of the mid-1990s, when hundreds of black churches in the South were mysteriously burned.
Gardley spoke to The Root about being a young playwright, how he got started and how he really feels about being compared to August Wilson.
The Root: I first heard of you when you were compared to August Wilson in the New York Times. How do you feel about that?
Marcus Gardley: I struggled with that a lot. I love August Wilson, but I don't want to be the second coming of anyone. It's definitely a compliment. But I think in the theater, we tend to put people in boxes. He [Wilson] was more interested in naturalism and realism. And I am not. I appreciate and love naturalism, but I don't do it well. So my fear was, if people came to my play expecting to see a naturalistic play, they'd be turned off by the magic realism that I'm very much in the school of. I hope that the work I create can be in dialogue with his. And I hope more young writers can be a part of this conversation. There's a tendency to pick one. August Wilson was "one" for so many years. He fought to not be the only one. There's a way to celebrate the diversity.
TR: As a storyteller, what are your thoughts about contemporary film and theater?
MG: I see a lot of movies and feel like I can do a better job. It's all about opportunity. Theater has become so expensive, and my audience is young and they can't afford it. My job is to write to all people. Sometimes I think, why am I wasting my time? I honestly don't know why I haven't left [to work in TV or film]. It's just that I'm called to do this. I have had a lot of older people come up to me and say they don't get it. They say my play is too loud. There's too much going on. Subscribers tend to be older and white; I want to find a way to bring more young people and diverse groups into theater.
Read the Full Interview @ The Root
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
New 'Zine on Black Film: NeoBlack Cinema
by Alan W. King
As a self-described “movie buff,” Crystyn C. Wright loves films, especially those reflecting the lives of African Americans. At one time, the Bronx-native, going by mainstream’s offerings, settled on the assumption that not enough black filmmakers were producing those films.
That assumption was corrected after she traveled to various film festivals. But Wright, a journalist active in various genres of the arts, figured if someone as film savvy as her initially had a hard time finding good black films, it showed her what the media thinks of independent black filmmakers.
So she decided to do something about it and teamed up with Abdul Ali, a NY-native-turned-D.C. resident, to found NeoBlack Cinema, an online independent film magazine for people of color. With a Mt.Vernon, NY-based operation and a staff of more than 35 writers nationwide, the magazine highlights films and the people, production and politics involved in the filmmaking process. “We like to call it a one-stop shop,” the editor and CEO said Wednesday in a conference call with Ali.
Read the Full Essay @ alan w. king's blog
...Back to the Music
All the attention has been on her video strip act, but the neo-soul diva's latest album has some pretty good tunes.
by Abdul Ali
With New Amerykah Part Two: The Return of the Ankh, Erykah Badu has secured her status as the bonafide Afro-Hippie of the neo-soul generation. Five albums into the music game, her work is still fresh, and gives listeners an occasional throwback to jazz artists like Miles Davis (who reinvented himself countless times) and Billie Holiday, who created a signature style.
Return of the Ankh differs in cohesion alone from World War 4, part one of her NewAmerykah trilogy. The melodies complement each other; she creates a thread that ties all the songs together. Ever the consummate artist, Badu shows her versatility as a contemporary artist by mixing styles and aesthetics on this album. She gives a nod to Biggie's Junior Mafia in "Turn Me Away (Get Munny);" she represents her R&B following beautifully in "Umm Hmm;" and she doesn't skimp on her love for hip-hop in her collaboration with Lil Wayne and Bilal on "Jump Up in the Air and Stay There." She pays homage to Billie Holiday in the song "Out My Mind (Just in Time)." She sings: "I'm a recovering, undercover over lover/ recovering from a love I can't get over/ And now my common law lover thinks he wants another."
Of late, it seems Badu has become a victim of her success. In doing something different, she's become self-indulgent. She's stitched a career around a persona that once was shy and is now outsized and rebellious. Recently, we've witnessed less of the colorfully wrapped Erykah and more of a new Badu that's free-loving, who changes wigs with each song, is more costume-conscious, more mutable. It's not that this is a bad thing, as artists should evolve but the thing is--evolutions are slow changes.
In a 2008 New York Times article, Badu rejected the title of queen of neo soul, "I hated that because what if I don't do that anymore? What if I change? Then that puts me in a penitentiary."
What we are seeing is less evolution than a revolving door: rapid changes in style and temperament that, in the minds of many, are affecting the work. The recent video snafu is a good example of how Badu's political rhetoric is half-baked, disjointed, not clearly communicating her artistic vision. There's even a naïveté on Badu's part that's shocking: It appears she believes that by merely saying her work is radical, that makes it so. As if her fans won't ask her to prove it.
Read the Full Essay @ The Root
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Still Got a 'Love Jones'
There hasn’t been a great film about black romance since Love Jones.
by Abdul Ali
Forget that it was released thirteen years ago. Forget the striking cinematography, the star cast, and the bomb-ass soundtrack. Forget that this was an artsy film that was accessible. Forget memorable scenes like when Darius tells Nina, “I just want to come up and talk.” Even if you forget all that, you still have to admit that no film in recent memory has come close to showcasing the struggles of black love – a film that’s unsentimental and breathtaking all the same.
So much is right with this movie. The chemistry of Nia Long and Lorentz Tate is remarkable. So much that we watch this film and begrudge the fact that this film represented the zenith of her career (and Lorentz Tate’s for that matter). We even forgive the fact that Lorentz Tate needs a haircut in this film. The characters hang out in smoky airy spots where men and women dress up and wear nice clothes. Not one gun in the entire film.
And when was the last time you saw a black film where the main characters quote George Bernard Shaw, invoke Gordon Parks, and play Charlie Parker? And whether you liked the poetry or not, you have to admit, it was sexy: ”Who am I? It doesn’t matter. I’m the blues in your left thigh, trying to be the funk in your right.”
Read the Full Essay @ The Root
Saturday, December 5, 2009
A Young Father Thinks About 'Precious'
Thinking about Precious, Talking about Black Cinema
by Abdul Ali
I’m not sure if there’s been a film in my generation that has been the object of so much mixed emotion, and perhaps vitriol, drawing a line in the sand along gender lines. Almost all of the guys that I know have talked about Precious at arm’s length. Some of us have even said “I’m not ready to see that film.” Yet my female friends have almost unanimously said “I got to go see it”, etc.
The movie’s been out for a few weeks now. Granted, I’ve been busy but I know I could have seen it sooner. There was almost an instant retreat when I saw the extra large darkskinned black women featured prominently on film—a rarity for contemporary film. And this is unfortunate as the darkskinned black woman is a part of all of us, so why the hesitation? I suppose it’s because the big-boned black women aren’t framed in a flattering way and this is a part of a larger narrative. Remember growing up we’d call the fat black girl in class “fat and ugly?” Seeing this film made me confront the inherent self-loathing that so many of us have inherited.
For starters, I’ve always felt that American film, Black American cinema in particular, was lacking in so many ways. It didn’t have the pacing of indie films that I so love. I didn’t treat its viewers as intelligent. There wasn’t much poetry or going on with the cinematography—as these are all things I look for in films, as well as literature. And of course, most black characters are written as flat, stereotypes, never truly inhabiting that space that we all know is human and difficult to categorize.
Add to that, in my entire twenty years of movie going there may have been only ten films worthy of discussion on an intelligent level. The rest of them seem to embarrass the race rather than illuminate audiences about black life.
Considering all of that, I said “what the hell” and went to see a 9:30 showing yesterday evening and I was instantly surprised. Surprised because I knew angry black women back home in New York who were that cruel to their children, who were that mentally ill, and who were that invisible to society at large. Then all of a sudden, I didn’t think much about all of the “stereotyping rhetoric” that has been programmed from reading Donald Bogle and taking literary criticism in college.
Instead, what I saw was a young woman-child who was curious, fierce, and longing to be more fully human.
Read the Full Essay @ WORDS MATTER
by Abdul Ali
I’m not sure if there’s been a film in my generation that has been the object of so much mixed emotion, and perhaps vitriol, drawing a line in the sand along gender lines. Almost all of the guys that I know have talked about Precious at arm’s length. Some of us have even said “I’m not ready to see that film.” Yet my female friends have almost unanimously said “I got to go see it”, etc.
The movie’s been out for a few weeks now. Granted, I’ve been busy but I know I could have seen it sooner. There was almost an instant retreat when I saw the extra large darkskinned black women featured prominently on film—a rarity for contemporary film. And this is unfortunate as the darkskinned black woman is a part of all of us, so why the hesitation? I suppose it’s because the big-boned black women aren’t framed in a flattering way and this is a part of a larger narrative. Remember growing up we’d call the fat black girl in class “fat and ugly?” Seeing this film made me confront the inherent self-loathing that so many of us have inherited.
For starters, I’ve always felt that American film, Black American cinema in particular, was lacking in so many ways. It didn’t have the pacing of indie films that I so love. I didn’t treat its viewers as intelligent. There wasn’t much poetry or going on with the cinematography—as these are all things I look for in films, as well as literature. And of course, most black characters are written as flat, stereotypes, never truly inhabiting that space that we all know is human and difficult to categorize.
Add to that, in my entire twenty years of movie going there may have been only ten films worthy of discussion on an intelligent level. The rest of them seem to embarrass the race rather than illuminate audiences about black life.
Considering all of that, I said “what the hell” and went to see a 9:30 showing yesterday evening and I was instantly surprised. Surprised because I knew angry black women back home in New York who were that cruel to their children, who were that mentally ill, and who were that invisible to society at large. Then all of a sudden, I didn’t think much about all of the “stereotyping rhetoric” that has been programmed from reading Donald Bogle and taking literary criticism in college.
Instead, what I saw was a young woman-child who was curious, fierce, and longing to be more fully human.
Read the Full Essay @ WORDS MATTER
Friday, June 19, 2009
Chatting Up (Black) Fatherhood
"Fatherhood" (2000) by Ruth Bloch/Weinstein Gallery
REINVENTING DAD
Pacifica Radio 99.5 FM WBAI
Women, Body & Soul
Hosted by Nathalie Thandiwe
Interview with guests Professor Mark Anthony Neal, father and author of New Black Man, along with hip hop musician, educator and father, Bomani Armah (Peek-a-Boo, Read a Book, Grown Ass Man), as the discuss how men and families can benefit from the reinvention of fatherhood.
Listen to the Interview @
WOMAN, BODY & SOUL
***
HOW DID YOU LEARN TO BE A FATHER?
NPR's Talk of the Nation with Neal Conan
Talk of the Nation, June 18, 2009 · Men who become fathers learn quite suddenly that the learning curve is steep and kids don't come with a user's manual. The curve can be more dramatic for men who grew up without dads.
Author Abdul Ali and Duke University professor Mark Anthony Neal talk about how they learned fatherhood.
Listen to the Interview @
REINVENTING DAD
Pacifica Radio 99.5 FM WBAI
Women, Body & Soul
Hosted by Nathalie Thandiwe
Interview with guests Professor Mark Anthony Neal, father and author of New Black Man, along with hip hop musician, educator and father, Bomani Armah (Peek-a-Boo, Read a Book, Grown Ass Man), as the discuss how men and families can benefit from the reinvention of fatherhood.
Listen to the Interview @
WOMAN, BODY & SOUL
***
HOW DID YOU LEARN TO BE A FATHER?
NPR's Talk of the Nation with Neal Conan
Talk of the Nation, June 18, 2009 · Men who become fathers learn quite suddenly that the learning curve is steep and kids don't come with a user's manual. The curve can be more dramatic for men who grew up without dads.
Author Abdul Ali and Duke University professor Mark Anthony Neal talk about how they learned fatherhood.
Listen to the Interview @
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