The Lebanexican

Ever since I saw the first advertisements for Green Book, I was turned off. My reaction was visceral. In the year 2018, a movie where a white man learns that African-Americans are a-okay, who stops being racist because of his friendship with a black man, feels very outdated. And yet rave reviews poured in for this movie.

I was puzzled. Was I not giving it a fair shot? Green Book stars two talented actors, Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali. But it was directed by Peter Farrelly, of Dumb and Dumber fame. The movie was written by the son of the real-life white protagonist. When I learned this, it confirmed my suspicions that Green Book is more about a white man’s transformation than a gifted black musician, who mostly serves, it seems, as a vehicle for his chauffeur’s redemption. Black characters at the service of a white story.

And then I watched the Golden Globes, where Green Book won for Best Screenplay and Best Comedy. I was bewildered. Ann Hornaday of the Washington Post helped to articulate what feels so wrong about this throwback tale receiving so much praise: because it is happening in a year when Black Kkklansman by Spike Lee, Blindspotting by Daveed Diggs, Sorry to Bother You by Boots Riley, If Beale Street Could Talk by Barry Jenkins and Black Panther by Ryan Coogler were all released. So many films were made by black filmmakers with black people at the heart of the story, with fresh, original takes on race and racism. And yet Green Book gets all the praise? It feels strange, and unfair.

Needless to say, I will not be seeing Green Book. But I look forward to seeing If Beale Street Could Talk this weekend.

Progressive women of color

Standing tall,

They rise

One by one

With the winds of change at their backs.

Determined

From across the land they rise:

Minnesota

Michigan

Kansas

Boston

Atlanta

New Mexico

The Bronx

The labor of a century,

To vote,

To advocate,

To represent,

Realized.

The women of this nation are rising.

While dutifully working from home today, I watched Birdbox on Netflix (I’d seen the memes). Watching a tense thriller with the blinds open, sun shining through, is the only way for me to do it (though I discovered that when I turned away from the screen, I faced the mirror closet in our entryway. Still saw everything!).

I was hesitant to watch it, not only because it promised to be scary, but because I’ve had my fill of post-apocalyptic hellscapes. I read Parable of the Sower and Station Eleven last year. I’m very familiar with The Hunger Games. The genre has kind of jumped the shark. What does Birdbox add to this overcrowded genre? Is it a fable about global warming? A prophecy that women and people of color will inherit the earth? Does it tell its survival story in new and interesting ways?

No, as far as I can tell, Birdbox doesn’t say much, nor does it add much to the post-apocalypse genre. And although I watched some scenes from behind a pillow, what I did see was impressive turns by John Malkovich, Trevante Rhodes, and of course Sandra Bullock. I love a good survival story against faceless foes. Despite its flaws, I liked Birdbox. You should see it with eyes wide open.

I started the day off with a first date, a breakfast date. A bold move for a new year. It’s comforting, as I get older, to embark on a date and call it that, to not act like we have something extremely casual with zero pressure, just two buddies meeting. So while it’s refreshing to jump right into the important stuff, I still stumble when asked “What are you looking for”?

My instinct, as always, is to answer with humor. To deflect. But what am I looking for? It’s certainly not what I was looking for ten years ago. Also, I’m not looking, at least not actively. I’m waiting for love to show up, announce itself, ready, easy (though it’s never easy). I told my companion that I’m looking for a man with whom I’m compatible. Compatible is one of those words that’s hard to define. I think of it as comfort. Comfort in someone’s presence. Feeling at ease, sharing a worldview. Not having to explain yourself, being able to just be. Now put that in a dating profile.

Were the gentleman from this morning’s coffee date and I compatible? Somewhat. It’s hard to say. Another date is in order. With him, and with others. And the beat goes on.