Whiplash. My boyfriend made me watch it. I didn’t even know what the effing movie was about. I almost missed it. The movie of the century and I almost missed it. (Slaps self in the forehead but not too hard). But Whiplash isn’t the movie of the century for conventional reasons of film analysis. It’s the movie of the century because in 2016 people just don’t give a f*ck about art.
F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck. The new word on the street. (I’m such a lady that I can’t even spell the word out without blushing…lol). But as I told you guys in a previous post, one of my new obsessions is Survivor’s Remorse. If you can’t handle a few…well, a million f*cks, then you can’t handle this show.
Let’s just face it; Networks have a hard time with African-American programming. There is a thin line between comedy and shucking-and-jiving. The line becomes even thinner between drama and gospel stage plays. Black folks also love to live in the past. For some reason, a generation of people who were barely alive are infatuated with A Different World. Modern day African-American artists are obsessed with Martin themes, especially those damn shapes from the maintitle sequence. And of course, since the Obamas got into the White House, black folks just can’t let go of The Cosby Show. (Well, many are due to other unrelated Bill Cosby factors that I shall not name…). With that being said, Networks and Showrunners get stuck in a cycle of failing nostalgia because face it, it’s 2016 and multi-camera comedies with soft music during the emotional climaxes just aren’t going to cut it. Let it go.
Shannan E. Johnson, CEO