“blogging is not writing. it’s graffiti with punctuation.”
i’ve been wondering what soderbergh has been up to. way to pull out some great performances for an ensemble cast, and also to make me think even more that the hand sanitizer is killing us. greaaaat-like i need any help with conspiracy theories. it’s too bad he didn’t cast uma thurman , as stanley crouch waxes poetic just shy of calling her the greatest american actress-shit, she’s not meryl streep. i’m pretty sure toure‘s latest book (the liner credits) is why i decided to read the man that his neighbor deems curmudgeon. i must say i was a bit surprised at the points he argued on authenticity:
“This gesture connects the worst of blaxploitation to the worst of rap, something no other screenwriter realized at that point.
As expressions of the most pernicious side of black popular culture, blaxploitation and rap are the declared enemies of love and romance. The Mack is an example of the blaxploitation films that celebrated pimps for being pure rebels who made their own rules, choosing to live outside of the white man’s laws and beyond his versions of good and evil. Their basic sense of glamour was so boldly overstated that one was supposed to look with awe at the brightly dyed fur hats and coats, the absurd, king-size jewelry, and the rest of the expensive buffoon outfits.
Blaxploitation films told us that we should take the pimp’s code seriously, which was pure, unrestrained worship of material acquisition founded in the cunning manipulation of masochistic women. If life had an alpha and an omega, they were fused in money, which the chumps never picked up on because they were too busy falling in love and working for a living, Pimps did not work, they hustled. The only ones who truly understood the facts of life were the players, the gentlemen of leisure, the runners of bitches and the manhandlers of hos. The pimp had a heart as cold as a meat locker and pockets as deep as the Grand Canyon. He was free of all sentimentality. That was why the white man was always trying to fuck with him. That cracker was nothing but a jealous lame. Hell, he wished he could pimp, but he wasn’t nothing but a flat-backed lame; papa redneck didn’t have no game.
Tarantino takes off the rose-colored pop glasses. His perspective carries some harsh facts about the national life. There is no vitality to the rebel if he is merely a narcissistic criminal whose only power arrives through lying, cheating, and savage disregard for the humanity of others. Pure crime has no relation to rebellion of the sort that improved American life by working against the limitations and prejudices of society.” (149-50, Blues in More Than One Color)
“The Nation of Islam had no serious religious impact on black Americans, but its sustained attacks on the pig were felt as a good number of blacks, even hit men like Jules, ceased to eat pork, which meant beef ribs started to take their place in the Negro world of barbeque. Tarantino’s use of that detail in the character of Jules supplies us with another example of how well he knows the worlds from which his characters emerge.” (175, Blues in More Than One Color)
but then, i become increasingly more suspicious of such claims, as they always come from the mouths of born-again anybodies…