Monday, July 29, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Fruitvale Station
I've been shooting an indie for the last fifteen days under grueling conditions. The bulk of my action takes place in a camping site, at night. Between the elements (critters, bugs, poison oak) in a forrest and the radical change of climate between the hours of 4PM and 2 AM, I've been off the radar. I wake up most days not sure of the exact date.
Friday was my first day off in awhile and I decided to catch a movie in the middle of the day. I don't do well in crowds so a weekday matinee is ideal. I am sometimes one of five people in a vast theatre and it feels like a private screening of sorts.
I'd been hearing a lot of buzz about Fruitvale Station. I had no idea what the subject matter was or what to expect until I got to the ticket line. While standing in line, I felt a gentle tap on my right shoulder followed by an "Excuse me". Standing next to me was an African-American young woman, her dress style was hippie-chic and her hair was wrapped à la Erika Badu.
"What are you going to watch?" She inquired in whisper.
"What do you think?" I replied, with a slight playful grin with the subtext of WTF! Just in case this was a setup to get "jumped". Ya' can take the girl outta Brooklyn, but...
She reacted with a slight shift in her body that seems to question her decision to approach me. I decided to keep this conversation going by answering her question with an answer:
"Fruitvale Station!"
"Bring tissues with you." she offered as her eyes welled up with tears. She just as quickly walked away before I had a chance to say anything more.
I wasn't sure if I was in the mood for anything heavy. The role I am shooting is emotionally demanding and I frankly was hopping that a movie with the word "Fruit" in it would be FUNNY!
I decided that she was just highly sensitive and while she may have been moved to tears even after the movie ended, I may not be as moved in the end. I selected my seat, payed the whopping $14 fee for "my semi-private" screening and skipped the popcorn for once.
I will not review the movie "Fruitvale Station" because I want to encourage as many people from all walks of life to go see it. Especially after the verdict on the Trayvon Martin case in Florida. I will simply say that it is based on the true story of 22 year-old Oscar Grant who was shot while handcuffed by a BART police officer. Ryan Coogler, the writer and director of the piece, brilliantly gives us an insight into the last day of Oscar Grant's life. By the way, I have never seen silence used so brilliantly in a film before.
It is what happened once I walked out of the theater that I was well worth my $14.
The stranger who forewarned me was correct. I made a detour into the ladies room to soak my entire face in cold water. Standing against the wall on my way into the ladies room, was a thin African- American young man about 6 feet tall, he was on crutches and holding a yellow cushion. He was obviously waiting for someone and the cushion was probably for his broken leg. I wondered if he'd just come out of "Fruitvale Station". One look into his eyes, the answer was a resounding YES.
When I stepped out, I found a woman in her late forties holding the same cushion in the place where the young man was. I approached her purposefully:
"Did you just come out of Fruitvale station?"
"Yes, I came with my son and I've gotta tell ya, I am scared for him every single time he leaves the house. He's only 18." she replied, she'd been dying to share this but knows better to tell him probabbly.
"I can imagine and I am so sorry that our sons and brothers are an endangered species", I offer earnestly.
"I know, and no one seems to get that. In fact just last week, I was dropping my son off at baseball camp while on my way to the gym. I got pulled over for no apparent reason. When the officer approached my car, he asked my son:"Are you on probation?" I said, excuse me officer, I am his mother. He is NOT on probation! "Oh sorry, the office replied, it's just that he looks like someone we are looking for."
Her son hopped over in his crutches to join us and to include him, she said :
"I was telling her about last week when we got pulled over and the officer asked you if you were on probation."
"Oh, yeah" he replied shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
I can't bear to look at him. I wanted to hear his thoughts about what his experience was like about the film, getting pulled over, being a target just because of what he seems to represent in the eyes of those who are supposed to "Serve and Protect".
Part of what helped Oscar Grant's family get some justice was the fact that so many witnesses pulled out their cell phones and recorded the officers beating him and the one shooting him point blank. What about all of those instances where no one is around to bear witness? What if this young man whose mother divulged so much to me at the movie theatre was not alone when the cops decided that he looked like a fugitive.
"Do you have a son?" she asks me.
"No, I answer" weakly.
As I walk away, unable to come up with anything encouraging or polite to say to a mother who is rightfully fearful every time her son is not with her. I wonder if I would want to raise a Black son in a country where he would be assumed guilty just because of the color of his skin.
Friday was my first day off in awhile and I decided to catch a movie in the middle of the day. I don't do well in crowds so a weekday matinee is ideal. I am sometimes one of five people in a vast theatre and it feels like a private screening of sorts.
I'd been hearing a lot of buzz about Fruitvale Station. I had no idea what the subject matter was or what to expect until I got to the ticket line. While standing in line, I felt a gentle tap on my right shoulder followed by an "Excuse me". Standing next to me was an African-American young woman, her dress style was hippie-chic and her hair was wrapped à la Erika Badu.
"What are you going to watch?" She inquired in whisper.
"What do you think?" I replied, with a slight playful grin with the subtext of WTF! Just in case this was a setup to get "jumped". Ya' can take the girl outta Brooklyn, but...
She reacted with a slight shift in her body that seems to question her decision to approach me. I decided to keep this conversation going by answering her question with an answer:
"Fruitvale Station!"
"Bring tissues with you." she offered as her eyes welled up with tears. She just as quickly walked away before I had a chance to say anything more.
I wasn't sure if I was in the mood for anything heavy. The role I am shooting is emotionally demanding and I frankly was hopping that a movie with the word "Fruit" in it would be FUNNY!
I decided that she was just highly sensitive and while she may have been moved to tears even after the movie ended, I may not be as moved in the end. I selected my seat, payed the whopping $14 fee for "my semi-private" screening and skipped the popcorn for once.
I will not review the movie "Fruitvale Station" because I want to encourage as many people from all walks of life to go see it. Especially after the verdict on the Trayvon Martin case in Florida. I will simply say that it is based on the true story of 22 year-old Oscar Grant who was shot while handcuffed by a BART police officer. Ryan Coogler, the writer and director of the piece, brilliantly gives us an insight into the last day of Oscar Grant's life. By the way, I have never seen silence used so brilliantly in a film before.
It is what happened once I walked out of the theater that I was well worth my $14.
The stranger who forewarned me was correct. I made a detour into the ladies room to soak my entire face in cold water. Standing against the wall on my way into the ladies room, was a thin African- American young man about 6 feet tall, he was on crutches and holding a yellow cushion. He was obviously waiting for someone and the cushion was probably for his broken leg. I wondered if he'd just come out of "Fruitvale Station". One look into his eyes, the answer was a resounding YES.
When I stepped out, I found a woman in her late forties holding the same cushion in the place where the young man was. I approached her purposefully:
"Did you just come out of Fruitvale station?"
"Yes, I came with my son and I've gotta tell ya, I am scared for him every single time he leaves the house. He's only 18." she replied, she'd been dying to share this but knows better to tell him probabbly.
"I can imagine and I am so sorry that our sons and brothers are an endangered species", I offer earnestly.
"I know, and no one seems to get that. In fact just last week, I was dropping my son off at baseball camp while on my way to the gym. I got pulled over for no apparent reason. When the officer approached my car, he asked my son:"Are you on probation?" I said, excuse me officer, I am his mother. He is NOT on probation! "Oh sorry, the office replied, it's just that he looks like someone we are looking for."
Her son hopped over in his crutches to join us and to include him, she said :
"I was telling her about last week when we got pulled over and the officer asked you if you were on probation."
"Oh, yeah" he replied shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
I can't bear to look at him. I wanted to hear his thoughts about what his experience was like about the film, getting pulled over, being a target just because of what he seems to represent in the eyes of those who are supposed to "Serve and Protect".
Part of what helped Oscar Grant's family get some justice was the fact that so many witnesses pulled out their cell phones and recorded the officers beating him and the one shooting him point blank. What about all of those instances where no one is around to bear witness? What if this young man whose mother divulged so much to me at the movie theatre was not alone when the cops decided that he looked like a fugitive.
"Do you have a son?" she asks me.
"No, I answer" weakly.
As I walk away, unable to come up with anything encouraging or polite to say to a mother who is rightfully fearful every time her son is not with her. I wonder if I would want to raise a Black son in a country where he would be assumed guilty just because of the color of his skin.
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