blackface-nelson george

“Spike lived across Myrtle on Adelphi in a cluttered two-room hotel dominated by an editing board, a bed, a stereo, and an early Michael Jordan poster. In piles along the floor and in shelves were tapes, records, papers, photographs, you name it. Now when folks complain that Spike’s films seem scattered and stuffed with too many themes, I often reflect on that apartment. Just as with his best work, there was ambition manifest in that room that held the seeming chaos together.” (79)

i really liked this one. i guess i put it on hold some time back, and decided to call it in. i still hear the love in nelson‘s voice in this one, which is not to say that i don’t in his more recent work, it just seems more present here. the true, vulnerable, honest love. i appreciated the context and the history, and the love of cinema.

“With time the scarlet carpet turned crimson with ground-in dirt. Broken seats proliferated. Ticket prices rose. But most vivid to me is that smell, that smell that said management didn’t care, the smell that said we weren’t as important as the customers who’d come before.” (10)

but this is the real gem:

“I wasn’t self-aware enough to realize how much I wanted Pryor to acknowledge me.” (40)

now that’s a black boy fly moment if i ever heard one.

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