black monday showtime recap episode 7 season 1
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'Black Monday' Plays With Its Conventions And Tackles Race

The heiress to Georgina Jeans has a bachelorette party that could change the course of the show and Keith makes a tough decision that could do the same.

There’s a beautiful sort of symmetry that makes this episode a hallmark of the Black Monday universe. The same way Blair was a mirror for Mo’s life flaws in episode “295,” Tiffany is that for Dawn. Both Mo and Dawn sit adjacent of their respective mirrors at a dinner table in their respective episodes, offering advice that leads them to see the ugly truth of their own lives. Keeping that sort of continuity between two episodes with your two main actors, down to the setting of the dinner table, by leveraging a narrative convention you’ve sewn into the fabric of the show, is impressive storytelling.

Similar to how Mo began seeing the inequities in his life when he derided Blair’s newfound party life, Dawn begins to notice her own relationship’s flaws while dispensing love advice to Tiffany. She even mistakenly refers to Tiffany as “me” before humorously backtracking until she lands on “Tiffa-Me,” a funny and poignant reinforcement of the Dawn mirror.

In the same scene, Dawn also wears this catatonic gaze after Tiffany breaks down how the person you love can change so much one begins to fall out of love. Behind that stare, all of the firewalls and barriers Dawn places around the empathetic part of her brain, in order to work in her emotionally debased profession, broke down and she was deprogramming herself like a machine.

Similarly, Tiffany has an almost identical gaze painted on her face when her socialite friends admit thoughts of her calling off the wedding before she awkwardly repeats “call off the wedding” like a robot malfunctioning. She’s not only a reflection of every main character’s emotional instability but also a reflection of Dawn herself, in this episode.

Tiffany Comes Out

It may have taken seven episodes and 300 days in the Black Monday universe, but it was bound to happen. Tiffany Georgina had a vice-grip on viewers’ attention tighter than the one she gave Blair’s testicles in the series premiere, and for the first time, she is the main focus of an episode.

In this episode, Tiffany’s bachelorette party turns into a therapy session and is the perfect moment for Casey Wilson to showcase a bit of her acting range. She goes from pleading with Dawn to stay at the empty party with her face quivering in desperation to fully oblivious joy in a matter of a few facial contortions. Her cartoonish laughter turns into uncontrollable crying without changing the tone of her voice. Tiffany Georgina is a walking example of how easily the characters in this show can waver between emotional extremes.

Tiffany’s bachelorette party story arc is the finest use of Black Monday narrative conventions in the series, so far, in an episode that uses the 1980s the best.

1980s Tackle Race

‘80s pop culture stories like New York Giants legend Lawrence Taylor’s crack addiction and Nicole Brown’s fatal marriage to O.J. Simpson are fair game for ridicule on Black Monday. This week’s episode also utilizes the ethos of the decade to discuss race in the way only Black Monday can: by eviscerating the pop culture of the time.

The victim this time is 1984 romantic comedy Sixteen Candles. In Sixteen Candles, Jake Ryan offers high school freshman Ted the opportunity to have sex with his drunk girlfriend so Ted can lose his virginity. To Tiffany, Jake has a “heart of gold.” Rightfully so, Dawn responds, “That was in movie theaters and white people were just like…’cool‘?”

The writers drive home the racial divide that Sixteen Candles represents when Mo asks who Ted and Jake are, and Tiffany and Blair reflexively respond Sixteen Candles. Mo’s also the only person who mentions how the film was a “minstrel show” due to the stereotypical Asian character Long Duk Dong.

Black Monday doesn’t appear to make sweeping generalizations about the character of white and Black people. But instead, through the lens of pop culture criticism, it highlights certain questionable behavior, such as staged date rape, which certain cultures accepted as entertainment that others would not. That’s the sort of engrossing breaking of the fourth wall that will add to Black Monday’s first season’s replay value.

The Truth Might Set You Free

Episode “243” had the Black Monday cast racing towards its inevitable collapse. This episode shows the truths that could be their undoing.

So many bombs of truth are dropped at the end of this episode that it’s impossible for anyone involved to leave unscathed by the end of the first season. The plot-shifting truth Mo shares with Blair could crumble the entire Georgina Play. It also seems to have cost Tiffany her freedom. Dawn’s truth could liberate her, but crush her husband. In this episode, the truth doesn’t set anyone free as much as it makes them feel free, if even for a moment. But, it’s Keith’s truth that could potentially destroy the entire operation.

In a perversely touching sequence of events, we discover Keith is more comfortable with having his son implicated in his crimes than he is his boyfriend Miike. So, when Keith meets up with Mike at the end of the episode -- after seemingly being compromised by the SEC -- he tells him “no matter what goes down, I’ll always love you.”

On the surface, that is a sweet gesture but, Black Monday’s penchant for misdirection imbues that scene with an extra layer of mystery. Did Keith say that because he decided to become an informant? Did he say it because he chose money over love and actually implicated Mike?

Add in the fact Keith gives Mike the infamous tie pin worn by the person who will fall to their death at some point in the series, and the Black Monday writers have put the dominoes in place for something dramatic to go down in the last two episodes of the first season.

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Issa Rae And Kumail Nanjiani Talk Their Black And Brown Dynamic In 'The Lovebirds'

As our latest op-ed points out, black romance films are having a moment, and The Lovebirds is adding a comedic twist to the matter. Ahead of the MRC/Paramount Pictures' premiere on streaming platform Netflix, VIBE correspondent Jazzie Belle sat down with the film's lead actors Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani to discuss the refreshing black and brown dynamic between their characters.

"I think it was just more exciting to me [to take part in a different romantic dynamic]. It was just that, and I didn't realize until later," said Rae. "Obviously with working with Kumail, it just like 'Oh, I haven't seen an on-screen pairing like this' and [I] was excited to play with him cosmetically. But yes, it's exciting to see a new and fresh dynamic in movies like this."

"When you see a portrayal of Pakistanis in American pop culture, generally, you're seeing certain lanes. You don't see us being light or funny or fun that often," said Nanjiani. "My family is very, very funny. My friends are very funny, so it wasn't even an attempt to try and show that [brown characters can be portrayed differently]. I just wanted to show how the people I know are. My mom and my dad are some of the funniest people I've ever met."

Watch the full interview above. The Lovebirds is streaming on Netflix now.

Interview's music bed provided by Gus.

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Lakeith Stanfield and Issa Rae in 'The Photograph'.
Courtesy of Universal Pictures

Opinion: Black Romance Films Are Having A Moment

It began with a kiss. Just one decade after the birth of cinema, vaudeville actors and dancers Gertie Brown and Saint Suttle gleefully embraced one another on film. They held hands and locked lips, giving the world its very first image of Black romance and intimacy on-screen. 1898's Something Good-Negro Kiss proved that love and affection was at the center of Black life. More than that, intimacy has always been essential to the survival of our people. Now, some 120 plus years later— cinema has finally reached the point where it has expanded to allow complex images of Black love, across time periods, between same-sex couples, and more recently, without being bogged down in trauma and pain.

Before Good-Negro Kiss was discovered in 2018, one of the earliest versions of Black romance in cinema was 1954's Carmen Jones starring Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge. Filmed in sweeping cinemascope, Carmen Jones follows a soldier named Joe (Belafonte) who gets so enamored with Carmen (Dandridge) that he becomes obsessive, even going AWOL to be with her. Though the film is sexy, and the tension between the actors is palpable — the romance in Carmen Jones is stilted to make white audiences comfortable. Hollywood was only willing to see Black intimacy through the lens of a renowned musical, wrapped in what ultimately becomes a tragedy. By the end of the film, Joe murders Carmen out of obsession and jealousy. Despite Belafonte and Dandridge's determination to showcase their sensuality, the material only allowed them to go so far. This sort of restraint would become the blueprint for generations of Black romance films.

Considering the utter chaos of the 1960s, it's a wonder that 1964's Nothing But A Man was ever made. A decade after Carmen Jones, Hollywood felt it was time to roll the dice on something different. Starring Ivan Dixon and Abbey Lincoln as Duff Anderson, a railroad worker, and Josie Dawson, a Birmingham school teacher, respectively, Nothing But A Man isn't packaged for white audiences like the musicals of the previous decades. However, the burdens and pains of the couple's relationship, namely Duff's flakiness about commitment and the rage he feels as a Black man living in the South, fall on Josie's shoulders. Moving into the 1970s with films like Claudine and Mahogany, and certainly, in the 1990s and early 2000s, Black romance on-screen would either be shrouded in comedic relief, or the relationships became the sole burden of the Black woman to bear. Often, both tropes were present.

Still, Black romance stories were always evolving. The 1980s sparked something new for Black sensuality in the movies. Though these were still heteronormative depictions, (aside from 1984's The Color Purple), films made significant steps forward in terms of diverse images of Black people. However, they still held on to sexist ideals. 1986's She's Gotta Have It used a Black woman's rape as a form of character development while 1988's Coming to America — billed as a comedy, rewarded its protagonist for lying to his love interest. This would become the formula for the many Black romance movies that came to fruition in the 1990s. Cheating, lies, abandonment, lack of accountability, and trauma are all very present in some of our most beloved films. Poetic Justice, Love Jones, Jason's Lyric, The Best Man, and Love & Basketball, all have some form of struggle love embedded within the narrative — typically leaving Black women wielding the shorter end of the stick.

Poetic Justice is riddled in misogyny, The Best Man has a serial cheater as a leading man, and in Love Jones, the lack of communication and accountability from both partners is dizzying. Moreover, women are often asked to overlook cheating, lying, manipulation, or being friend-zoned to present themselves as worthy of their male partner by the film's conclusion. Yet, in our quest to connect and see brown bodies sensually and romantically in cinema, we hold these films close to our hearts, overlooking many of the toxic traits of the characters.

Despite the mega success of Black films in the 1990s— following the debut of Gina Prince-Bythewood's Love & Basketball in 2000, Black stories in cinema, aside from a few here and there, were all but erased in Hollywood. Throughout this near decade-long drought, prolific director Tyler Perry was one of the only voices in the game. However, the quality of Perry's storylines, as well as the portrayal of his female characters, have proven to be problematic. These characters are often emotionally broken, angry, and at times unhinged. If and when they do find love in movies like 2005's Diary of An Angry Black Woman, 2008's The Family That Preys and 2009's I Can Do Bad All By Myself, it's after they suffer some dire consequence or horrific punishment. This was particularly jarring during a time when there were hardly any other mainstream film images of Black people on-screen.

Thankfully, as we pressed forward into the second decade of the 21st century, Black filmmakers, writers, and producers were knocking down doors in Hollywood once again. In 2012, Ava DuVernay stepped onto the scene with her stellar film, Middle of Nowhere. The film follows Ruby (Emayatzy Corinealdi) grappling with the choice to leave her incarcerated husband, Derek (Omari Hardwick), to follow her dreams and possibly find new love with a bus driver named Brian (David Oyelowo). Though this was a significant shift in the way Black intimacy, sensuality, and romance was depicted in movies, the real transformation happened in 2016, with Barry Jenkins' Academy Award-winning, Moonlight.

Loosely based on screenwriter Tarell Alvin McCraney's real life, Moonlight puts the Black male coming-of-age story center stage. However, instead of honing in on the violence and despair of the inner city, like the hood homeboy films of the 1990s — Moonlight focuses on Black love between Black men. First, there is the relationship protagonist Chiron (Alex R. Hibbert) has with his father-figure, Juan (Mahershala Ali). Later, Chiron explores his queer identity with his classmate Kevin (Jharrel Jerome). The film is a sumptuous duality of hypermasculinity against lush sensuality. With this film, Jenkins effectively shattered our expectations regarding Black intimacy on-screen, while unraveling why Black love in all of its varied prisms deserves a spotlight in cinema.

Moonlight would pave the way for 2019's Queen & Slim and 2020's The Photograph. Two vastly different films, one— a harrowing dramatic thriller, centering Queen (Joe Turner-Smith ) and Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) who are forced together by circumstance. A dull Tinder date paves the way for a standoff with a racist police officer who eventually lays dead, prompting our leads to run for their lives.

Penned by Lena Waithe and directed by Melina Matsoukas — the film is almost an antithesis of what we've seen before when it comes to Black romance in the movies. Instead of the tried and true formula of a meet-cute, conflict, and resolution, Queen & Slim unites a Black man and a Black woman through Black radicalism. They come to lean on one another, inadvertently building a foundation when there is no one else either of them can trust or turn to. The weight of their relationship rests equally on both of their shoulders, as they become each other’s ride or die.

In contrast to Queen & Slim, writer/director Stella Meghie's The Photograph, is a much-deserved presentation of soft Black romance, without the trauma or brutality. The film follows Mae (Issa Rae), an art curator grappling with the death of her estranged mother, and Michael (Lakeith Stanfield) — a journalist who crosses paths with Mae's late mother's work. The film follows the typical romance formula, but the conflict and resolution aren't gut-wrenching or emotionally tumultuous. Mae and Micheal deal with real-life issues without being battered or broken. Both parties —like the lead characters in Queen & Slim, share the weight of their missteps and miscommunication. The Photograph is a recognition of straight-forward Black sensuality and love without the heaviness of Black pain. Despite all of this, the film has garnered mixed reviews. Since there isn’t any toxicity between the main characters or much comedy in The Photograph, it appears foreign to us. As a community, we’ve been conditioned to only recognize Black Love shrouded in chaos. Presently, Black women in particular, are asking Black people to look beyond archaic examples of love that are rooted in sexism, misogynoir, and rigid gender roles. Instead, Meghie presents two grown people who must hold themselves and each other accountable to have a chance at a loving and modern relationship.

Black women are also getting the opportunity to be seen as romantic leading women, in the broader scope of cinema alongside leading men from different cultures. Following the footsteps of the 2006 film Something New, where Sanaa Lathan's leading man was Australian actor Simon Baker, Issa Rae will become a leading lady once more in Netflix's The Lovebirds. The Insecure actress stars as Leilani, opposite Pakistani-American actor Kumail Nanjiani. Rae is a woman who is grappling with her strained relationship with her boyfriend, Jibran (Nanjiani). The couple's commitment to one another is hilariously put to the test when they suddenly find themselves in the middle of a chaotic murder mystery.

Black film, and undoubtedly Black romance film, has come a long way since that very first kiss was captured on-screen in 1898. With more women filmmakers at the helm, diverse projects, and the current wave of Black cinema in Hollywood, Black romance movies have the opportunity to give the next generations more nuanced depictions of connection, sensuality, sex, and intimacy. With films like Queen & Slim, Moonlight, The Photograph, and The Lovebirds — we have witnessed Black people from all walks of life and sexualities dive into romantic relationships with love, accountability, and self-awareness, which are truly the ultimate relationship goals.

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Black Thought And Questlove Secure First-Look Deal With Universal

Amir “Questlove” Thompson and Tarik “Black Thought” Trotter landed a three-year first-look deal with Universal. According to the Hollywood Reporter, the founders of the Legendary Roots Crew will create scripted and unscripted content for Universal Television Alternative Studio and Universal TV under the duo's Two One Five Entertainment imprint.

“This deal is very important to us as we've been content producers and storytellers for our entire career,” Questlove said in a statement on Wednesday (May 13). “A significant investment from Universal Television Alternative Studio and Universal Television in our vision allows us to share these stories on a much larger scale. Tarik and I see this as the next chapter to our careers, and we are very involved in the entire process. I'm directing, Tarik is writing and we both are producing.”

The deal extends the Roots decade-long relationship with NBC, first on Jimmy Fallon’s Late Night talk show in 2009, and serving as the house band for NBC’s Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon, which premiered in 2014. Questlove is also music director for the Tonight Show.

“Many of our initial projects have been music-centric content, and one of our goals is to become the premiere hub for music storytelling — a safe space for these stories to be shared across a variety of platforms,” added Black Thought. “Eventually we will expand outside of music with our stories. However, as we all know, every story has a rhythm and Two One Five Entertainment will harness that rhythm and create well-produced, compelling content.”

Two One Five Entertainment's roster of projects include the AMC docuseries, Hip Hop Songs that Shook America, along with Black Woodstock, chronicling the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival. The company has also had a hand in the Broadway productions, Black No More and Soul Train the Musical.

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