Anyone who knows me, knows I can be silly–and a bit random. So, Fridays will be that day of the week when I can freely speak nonsense about all the random stuff that I encounter throughout the week.
The kids are sick.
Lawd, give me strength. It seems like every three weeks or so, Daughter #1 comes home from school with some kind of plague. Daughter #2 is pretty hardy, so she manages sickness well, but the oldest?
She is on par with man sickness.
Which is thisclose to death.
I was hoping for a fun weekend, but I will probably be cleaning mucus.
Get the Vicks and vests out!
This week in Black movies and TV
I enjoy stories, whether they are written or filmed. The kids take up a lot of time, so I don’t get to read as much as I would like. When they are asleep and I have some energy, I am binge-watching TV shows or watching movies.
Hubby, a friend and I watched two horribly bad (or horribly good) independent movies on Netflix: The Man in 3B, based on a book by Carl Weber, starring Lamann Rucker, Christian Keyes (the star of almost EVERY Black independent film) and a host of C-list actors; and Boy Bye starring Wendy Raquel Robinson and Shondrella Avery.
I enjoyed The Man in 3B because I watched it for what it was: a wannabe drama that had nufty plot holes and crazy connections. Hubby was watching it with a critical film eye.
Really, hun? This is not the movie.
The premise is that Daryl (Lamann Rucker) moves into an apartment building that is filled with gossiping folks, including Jackée Harry. Of course, everyone is enamored by the new dude–including his neighbour across the hall, Connie (Brely Evans) who is going through hard times with her husband, Avery (Anthony Montgomery). Also in the building is Benny (Robert Ri’chard), who becomes friends with Daryl; Benny’s bestie Krystal (Nafeesa Edwards) and independent Black film superstar Christian Keyes who plays Slim.
Lots of characters, lots of drama, and lots of foolishness that leads to the murder of the man in 3B and a police investigation.
It was so bad that it was good. We stayed engrossed in the film, discussing it or laughing at some foolishness.
I must say, the scene with Avery and his bosses at the furniture store is classic. The language is strong–very strong in that scene–but, I think, many people would appreciate the situation and maybe, just maybe, want to do the same thing and then pray profusely for forgiveness.
If you don’t have anything to do Saturday night, you’ll have fun watching it.
Now, Boy Bye. Sigh. You know when a movie has no real tension? It’s just happening and you’re yawning, talking to the people around you about their week and the news–Harvey Weinstein, damn–then all of a sudden, BAM! The drama starts and you’re like, “huh? What happened there? Why is this happening?”
The movie was a big ‘why?’, like ‘why was this film even made?’ The lead character, Love (Wendy Raquel Robinson), is a self-made woman who has no time for, you guessed it, love. She wrote a book, Boy Bye, which, I guess, is some kind of self-help manual for women. She is also a very successful real estate agent. About 10 minutes into the movie, we see that she’s crushing on a colleague, Lance (Ross Fleming). We go from “I don’t need or want a man” to “that Lance is the one!”
Love, her bestfriend, Charity (Shondrella Avery), who is recovering from breaking up with her husband, and another friend, Beverly (Tammy Townsend), go to a retreat–led by Love’s therapist–at a winery that is for sale. Love invites Lance, who brings his boys (including Omar Gooding) to check out the property and five minutes later they are in love.
Like, literally, FIVE MINUTES LATER.
Now, maybe I’m expecting too much, but if you’re a woman who has written a book, which you named Boy Bye, I’d think that you’d need more than two dates, a run around a park, and some wine to fall in love. Now, Lance is attractive, but he isn’t Blair Underwood or Kofi Siriboe.
Then the ‘drama’ starts and I rolled my eyes.
It was all played out. I know that many of these films are based on stereotypes, but it was done in such a boring way without much creativity.
And Love’s weave was annoying my spirit. Why did they need to put 10 packs in Wendy’s head? C’mon, y’all.
Personally, I think the cast was just looking for a cheque–including Valarie Pettiford, who got top billing for appearing for 10 minutes and doing nothing to advance the plot. I’m still wondering what her purpose was. More power to them, but you don’t need to subject yourself to this on a quiet Saturday night.
Anyhow, I’m out, lovely people. Enjoy your weekend and see you on Monday!