American Realism in Cinema: A Homage to Art’s Influence on Film and the Masters Who Bring It to Life.

A still from the final scene from 'The Equalizer' (2014), Sony Pictures.

Earlier this week I recently found myself re-watching ‘The Equalizer’ (2014) and noticed in the final scene of Antoine Fuqua’s film, Robert McCall, portrayed by Denzel Washington, sits alone in a diner. As the camera slowly zooms out, the setting becomes unmistakably reminiscent of Edward Hopper’s 1942, iconic oil canvas painting ‘Nighthawks.’ It’s my belief that this choice by Farqua is more than a simple homage; it is a deliberate blending of American realism in both cinema and art, a powerful visual statement that speaks to the themes of isolation, moral clarity, and the vigilant spirit that permeates both the film and the broader landscape of American cinema.

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, 1942

Hopper’s Nighthawks has long been regarded as a quintessential representation of American urban isolation. Its depiction of four individuals in a stark, fluorescent-lit diner—each absorbed in their solitude despite their physical proximity—captures the existential loneliness that has become a hallmark of modern life. Fuqua’s use of this imagery at the conclusion of The Equalizer serves as a visual metaphor for McCall’s own journey: a solitary figure in a vast, indifferent world, quietly enforcing justice where society has failed.

This fusion of visual art and film is not unique to The Equalizer. Throughout the history of cinema, directors and cinematographers have drawn upon the rich tradition of American realism to infuse their narratives with a deeper sense of place, mood, and thematic resonance. The influence of visual art on film, particularly in the world of American realism, is a testament to the enduring power of these two mediums to reflect and shape our understanding of the world.

John Ford and the Mythic American West

Anyone who knows me or reads my blog regularly knows I cannot discuss American realism in cinema (or cinema in general) without acknowledging the monumental influence of John Ford. Ford’s The Searchers (1956) stands as a cornerstone of American film, capturing the mythic essence of the American West while simultaneously deconstructing it. The film’s sweeping vistas, captured by cinematographer Winton C. Hoch, evoke the rugged beauty of the American frontier, but it is the film’s exploration of moral ambiguity and cultural identity that cements its place in the canon of American realism.

The Searchers tells the story of Ethan Edwards (John Wayne), a Confederate veteran on a relentless quest to rescue his niece from Comanche captors. Ford, known for his mastery of visual storytelling, uses the vast, desolate landscapes of Monument Valley to mirror Ethan’s internal struggle—a man caught between the past and an uncertain future. The film’s final shot, where Ethan stands framed in a doorway, silhouetted against the open plains, is a haunting reminder of the solitary path chosen by those who, like Robert McCall, seek justice or at the very least their own form of justice, in a world that often resists it.

Frederic S. Remington's 'A Dash for the Timber' (1889)

The original painting can be found at Amon Carter Museum of American Art, Fort Worth, Texas

Ford’s work was heavily influenced by the paintings of Frederic Remington, whose depictions of the American West were both romanticised and brutally realistic. Remington’s art, much like Ford’s films, captures the tension between civilization and the untamed wilderness—a tension that lies at the heart of the American experience. As stated in my previous blog entitled ‘A Love Letter to My Favourite Genre’: “... But a great Western doesn't just showcase this myth; it delves into our fascination with it through the actions of its characters. A Western is not a historical drama; it's a reflection of the era in which it's born.”

A still from John Ford's 'The Searchers' (1956). The influence of Frederick Remington is undeniable.

The cinematography in ‘The Searchers’, like Remington’s art, encapsulates this duality by juxtaposing the vast, untamed landscapes with the smallness of the human figures within them. Cinematographer Winton C. Hoch’s use of wide, sweeping shots of Monument Valley captures the awe-inspiring beauty and harshness of the frontier, echoing Remington’s ability to depict the grandeur and danger of the West. The towering rock formations and endless horizons are not just backdrops; they are characters in themselves, representing the unforgiving and often lawless nature of the world in which the film’s characters exist.

In ‘The Searchers’, the interplay of light and shadow, particularly in the film’s interior scenes, reflects the moral complexities of the characters, much like Remington’s use of light to highlight the tension between the civilised and the wild. Ethan Edwards (John Wayne), the film’s protagonist, is often framed against the stark landscape, emphasising his isolation and the internal conflict that drives his relentless pursuit. The contrast between the bright, open skies and the dark, confined spaces of the characters’ homes serves as a visual metaphor for the struggle between the ideals of civilization and the reality of a brutal, often lawless existence.

Through Hoch’s lens, Ford creates a visual narrative that mirrors Remington’s artistic exploration of the West—a place where myth and reality collide, where the beauty of the landscape is matched only by its inherent danger, and where the characters are as much a part of the land as the mountains and deserts that surround them. This cinematographic approach not only reinforces the themes of the film but also pays homage to the enduring influence of Remington’s art on the Western genre, capturing the essence of an America that is both idealised and unforgiving.

Akira Kurosawa: The Japanese Master’s Influence on American Cinema

Takashi Shimura in Ikiru (1952) by Akira Kurosawa

This approach to cinematography, with its emphasis on visual storytelling and the exploration of complex themes, can also be seen in Akira Kurosawa’s ‘Ikiru’ (1952). While ‘The Searchers’ delves into the mythos of the American West, ‘Ikiru’ tackles the existential crisis of modern life. Kurosawa’s film, through its meticulous composition and evocative use of light and shadow, confronts the viewer with the harsh realities of life, death, and the search for meaning. Cinematographer Asakazu Nakai employs a sombre, almost claustrophobic framing, especially in scenes depicting the protagonist, Kanji Watanabe, in his office or home—spaces that symbolise the monotony and despair of his existence.

Just as ‘The Searchers’ uses the vastness of the landscape to reflect Ethan Edwards’ isolation and internal struggle, ‘Ikiru’ uses confined spaces and muted tones to evoke a deep sense of sadness and introspection. The film’s exploration of existentialism is visually articulated through long, unbroken takes that force the audience to sit with Watanabe’s despair, compelling them to face the stark truths of life’s fleeting nature and the inevitability of death.

Both ‘The Searchers’ and ‘Ikiru’ use their cinematography not merely as a tool for visual spectacle, but as a means to deepen the narrative’s emotional impact. While Hoch’s work in ‘The Searchers’ amplifies the tension between civilization and wilderness, Nakai’s cinematography in ‘Ikiru’ brings the viewer face-to-face with the universal struggle for meaning in an indifferent world. These films, though culturally and thematically different, share a common thread in their ability to use the power of visual storytelling to explore profound human truths, making the audience not just observers, but participants in the characters' existential journeys.

Leonardo Di Caprio and Brad Pitt in 'Once Upon A Time In Hollywood' (2019)

Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954) and Yojimbo (1961) are seminal works that blend Japanese cultural elements with the narrative structure and thematic concerns of American Westerns. These films, with their emphasis on honour, duty, and the solitary warrior, resonate deeply with the themes explored in American realism. Kurosawa’s meticulous attention to detail and his use of natural landscapes as extensions of his characters’ emotional states would go on to influence filmmakers like George Lucas, Sergio Leone, and, notably, Quentin Tarantino.

Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) is a love letter to the golden age of American cinema, yet it also bears the unmistakable mark of Kurosawa’s influence. The film’s varied visual styles, from the gritty realism of 1960s Los Angeles to the stylized violence of spaghetti Westerns, reflect a deep appreciation for the global exchange of cinematic ideas. Cinematographer Robert Richardson, who collaborated with Tarantino on the film, uses classical composition and camera movement to pay homage to the traditions of both American and Japanese cinema, creating a visual spectacle that is as much a celebration of film history as it is a narrative about the fading stars of Hollywood’s past.

Cinematography as Art: The Legacy of Barry Lyndon, Blade Runner, and The Thin Red Line

In exploring the intersection of American realism and visual art in cinema, I argue that it is essential to recognise the contributions of cinematographers who have elevated the medium to new heights. Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon (1975) is often cited as a masterclass in the use of natural light and period-specific visual aesthetics. Cinematographer John Alcott, working closely with Kubrick, employed groundbreaking techniques to capture the look of 18th-century paintings, using candlelight and wide-angle lenses to create a sense of authenticity that immerses the viewer in the world of the film.

Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), with cinematography by Jordan Cronenweth, pushed the boundaries of visual storytelling.

Similarly, Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), with cinematography by Jordan Cronenweth, pushed the boundaries of visual storytelling. The film’s dystopian vision of the future is brought to life through a carefully crafted blend of shadows, neon lights, and rain-soaked cityscapes. Drawing inspiration from film noir and the art of Edward Hopper, Blade Runner creates a world that is both futuristic and hauntingly familiar, a reflection of the anxieties and aspirations of the late 20th century.

Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line (1998) is another landmark in the fusion of cinematography and art. Emmanuel Lubezki’s work on the film captures the raw, untamed beauty of the Pacific islands during World War II, juxtaposing the horrors of war with the serene, almost ethereal landscapes. Lubezki’s use of natural light and his ability to find beauty in the most unexpected places echo the work of photographers like Dorothea Lange and Walker Evans, whose images of Depression-era America have become iconic representations of the country’s resilience and struggle.

Wally Pfister and the Dark Knight: Redefining the Superhero Genre

In more recent years, the collaboration between Christopher Nolan and cinematographer Wally Pfister has redefined the visual language of the superhero genre. The Dark Knight (2008), the second instalment in Nolan’s Batman trilogy, is a film that blends the gritty realism of a crime drama with the larger-than-life spectacle of a comic book adaptation.

The Dark Knight (2008)

The DC Universe is arguably the greatest example of American Realism in the comic book genre. The Dark Knight Trilogy and Matt Reeves ‘The Batman’ (2022) are great examples of this.

Pfister’s decision to shoot significant portions of the film in IMAX, combined with his use of a colour palette that emphasises the Joker’s chaotic presence, creates a visual experience that is both intimate and epic. The choice to fill the screen with an aspect ratio of 4:3 during key moments, such as the bank heist prologue, immerses the viewer in the vastness of Gotham City while maintaining a sense of claustrophobic tension.

The influence of American realism is evident in the way The Dark Knight portrays its characters and settings. Gotham, like the urban landscapes in Hopper’s paintings, is a city teetering on the edge of chaos, its streets filled with shadows and uncertainty. Yet, amid this darkness, Pfister’s cinematography finds moments of unexpected brightness, as seen in the brutal interrogation scene where Batman confronts the Joker. This contrast between light and dark, order and chaos, is central to the film’s exploration of moral ambiguity—a theme that resonates deeply with the tradition of American realism.

Rachel Morrison and Mudbound: Capturing the Essence of an Era

Rachel Morrison’s work on Mudbound (2017) is a testament to the power of cinematography to evoke the spirit of a time and place. Set in Mississippi in the 1940s, the film tells the story of two families—one Black, one white—struggling to survive in a society defined by racial segregation and economic hardship. Morrison’s cinematography, inspired by the work of WPA photographers like Dorothea Lange and Walker Evans, captures the harsh realities of sharecropper life with a stark, unflinching gaze.

Shooting digitally, Morrison avoided the golden nostalgia often associated with period films, instead opting for a more naturalistic approach that emphasises the raw, unforgiving landscape. The use of natural light and the film’s subdued colour palette create a sense of authenticity that draws the viewer into the world of the characters, making their struggles and triumphs all the more poignant.

As The Equalizer concludes with its haunting evocation of Nighthawks, it reminded me of the profound connection between visual art and cinema. Directors and cinematographers like John Ford, Akira Kurosawa, Robert Richardson, Wally Pfister, and Rachel Morrison have drawn upon the rich traditions of American realism to create films that resonate with audiences on both an emotional and intellectual level.

These artists understand that the power of cinema lies not only in its ability to tell stories but also in its capacity to evoke the beauty, complexity, and contradictions of the human experience. Through their work, they have ensured that the legacy of American realism lives on, continuing to inspire new generations of filmmakers and audiences alike.

'Them' and the Reimagining of Black Femininity and heroism.

TV in 2024 still has a tumultuous landscape, clichés strut arrogantly as characters, while stereotypes masquerade as authenticity. Then, amidst this sea of mediocrity, emerges 'Them'. Prime Video’s 'Them' stands as a chilling anthology series created by Little Marvin and shepherded by the executive prowess of Lena Waithe. Season 1, as aptly articulated by the esteemed Roger Ebert, transcends the confines of conventional horror, as it is “more horrifying than horror.” It tells the harrowing tale of the Emorys, a black family thrust into the cauldron of 1950s Compton, California—an all-white enclave seething with prejudice and malevolence. Within this narrative crucible, viewers find the Emorys, as a beacon of ‘black middle class’ normalcy amidst the modern terrain of 2020s black television portrayals, expertly played by the formidable talents of Ashley Thomas, Shahadi Wright Joseph, Melody Hurd, and the indomitable heroine, Deborah Ayorinde.

We need more black middle class representation on screen…

The Emory’s played by (left to right:) Deborah Ayorinde, Shahadi Wright Joseph, Melody Hurd, and Ashley Thomas.

Season 1 of 'Them' etched an indelible mark on our television screens, weaving together strands of horror and reality into a mosaic that speaks to the very essence of black identity. It laid bare the festering wounds of systemic oppression, while simultaneously challenging the divisive dichotomy of "Them vs Us". Through its visceral portrayal, 'Them' Season 1 redefined the contours of black representation on screen, shattering the fetters of stereotypical tropes with each compelling frame.

And yet, as the dust settles and the echoes of Season 1 fade into memory, the saga of 'Them' is far from over. As Season 2 drops on Prime Video, the stage is set for a continuation of this riveting and compelling odyssey—a journey that promises to further explore the depths of the black experience in America, while continuing to challenge and redefine the boundaries of storytelling itself.

Melody Hurd and Deborah Ayorinde - ‘Them’ (2021). Amazon Studios

Season 2 of 'Them', much like its predecessor, emerges to me as another guiding beacon of redefinition, albeit in nuanced and distinctive ways. Leading the charge again is Deborah Ayorinde, whose performance not only defies but obliterates the confining borders of black femininity entrenched in the annals of mainstream media. Throughout the turbulent saga of television history, black female characters have too often found themselves relegated to the sidelines, relegated to mere ornaments in the narratives dictated by their white counterparts. In the anthological world of 'Them', Ayorinde's character transcends those suffocating constraints, delivering a multifaceted portrayal that strikes at the very core of stereotypes. Vulnerability metamorphoses into strength, compassion serves as her arsenal, and resilience echoes as her anthem. Through her portrayal of “Livia Emory” and "Detective Dawn Reeve”, the traditional depictions of black women on screen are not merely challenged, but dismantled, leaving behind a trail of shattered misconceptions.

Joseph Wright’s “Scandalous: Olivia Pope and Black Women in Primetime History” (2014) contemplations on the paradoxical interplay between visibility and authenticity reverberate with profound resonance in this context. In the ceaseless pursuit of crossover appeal, black characters and creators have often found themselves compelled to relinquish their blackness. However, 'Them'  boldly defies this perilous trajectory, embracing black femininity in its raw, unfiltered essence. Patricia Hill Collins' seminal discourse, "Black Feminist Thought," lays bare the insidiousness of stereotypical portrayals such as the "mammy" and "jezebel" archetypes, historically weaponised to justify the subjugation of black women. Moreover, the insidious whitewashing of black experiences by white feminism, as evidenced by Camille Paglia's distortion of the "mammy" stereotype, further compounds the issue. The landscape of film and television is riddled with problematic depictions of black women, perpetuating harmful stereotypes that continue to echo through the corridors of time. It is within this fraught terrain that 'Them' emerges as a vital disruptor, providing a sanctuary of authenticity where Deborah Ayorinde's ‘Dawn Reeve’s’, alongside the indomitable presence of Pam Grier, stands as a resounding testament to the transformative power of genuine representation. Yet, despite this, in 2024 the lamentable dearth of black female heroism in mainstream media remains glaring. When such portrayals do emerge, they are invariably suffused with stereotypes, further entrenching the narrow confines of representation. 'Them', however dares to challenge this entrenched status quo, offering a tantalising glimpse into a world where black female heroism is not merely conceivable, but exalted in its entirety.

Pam Grier and Deborah Ayorinde - Them: The Scare (2024). Amazon Studios

Toni Morrison's poignant exploration of the "origin of others" served as a haunting reminder of the pernicious role stereotypes play in dehumanising and marginalising certain groups. It is through the art of storytelling that we confront both the problem and the solution. Figures such as Barry Jenkins, Lena Waithe, and Ava DuVernay depict black stories with dexterity, illuminating, enlightening, and ultimately, inspiring change.

After you finish reading this it is my hope that you add ‘Them’ Season 2 to your watch list and consider my call for disruption reverberating through collective consciousness. It is time to dismantle the prevailing depictions of black women in film and television, replacing them with narratives that embrace the richness of their lived experiences. As a storyteller I can’t help but impress upon you the inexorable potential for societal metamorphosis, one episode at a time.

From Quantum to Competence: Daniel Craig's Bond and the Modern Masculine Evolution on International Men's Day

In a world where International Men's Day often goes unnoticed, the cinematic world has become a battleground for redefining masculinity. As a self-proclaimed cinephile, my journey through the action-packed movies of Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and other iconic leading men of the '80s and '90s shaped my appreciation for the evolving archetype of the action hero. Yet, none has left a more lasting impression on the modern male psyche than Daniel Craig's portrayal of James Bond.

Growing up, I revelled in the action drama of  Bruce Willis in "Die Hard" and the high kicks of Jet Lee in "The Enforcer." My fascination with the cinematic hero led me to explore the stark contrasts between Hollywood and Hong Kong interpretations during my university days for my dissertation. However, it was Daniel Craig's Bond, particularly in "Casino Royale," that left me spellbound in 2006. As International Men's Day 2023 approaches, I felt compelled to delve into the roots of my Bond fandom, unravelling the layers of masculinity within the franchise and its contemporary significance.

Quantum of Solace means ‘a certain amount of peace or comfort’.

“I suppose you could say that all love and friendship is based in the end on that. Human beings are very insecure. When the other person not only makes you feel insecure but actually seems to want to destroy you, it's obviously the end. The Quantum of Solace stands at zero. You've got to get away to save yourself.'

- Daniel Craig as James Bond in Quantum of Solace, 2008

The title for the sequel "Quantum of Solace," is an enigmatic title. It encapsulates the essence of Craig's Bond and I argue paves the way for discourse on modern masculinity. To me it's an allegory.

In a society where men are often portrayed as perpetrators of historical wrongs, Craig's Bond grapples with the challenges of being a man in an era sceptical of male empowerment. The character Q, in Craig's universe, epitomises this societal shift. In SkyFall when he meets Bond for the first time Q challenges Bond's relevance in a world that questions traditional masculinity in what I think is a great scene in the franchise. The conversation in this particular scene and the direction by Marc Foster is superb. Allowing characters to observe art and articulate their perceptions proves to be a brilliant method for character delineation. As frequently witnessed in the Craig universe, Bond's knack for deciphering the subtle nuances of the evolved society and surroundings becomes evident. This is especially highlighted towards the end of the scene when Bond succinctly declares, "it's a brave new world," encapsulating the zeitgeist of the moment and the intricate web of societal shifts enveloping this enduring character, this hero - who has graced our screens for six decades.

Among other things in the Craig universe, the Q meeting in Skyfall, among its various moving parts, exudes an unmistakable British flair. Much like many other scenes in this iteration of the Bond franchise, it resonates with responses and actions that can be interpreted as dry, sarcastic, and occasionally teetering on contempt, depending on the context—even when the situation seemingly doesn't demand it. However, this distinctive British demeanour is intricately woven with an underlying thread of mutual respect.

Despite this however, this particular depiction of British identity and character nuances on screen, is a departure from the Bonds of the past. Unlike his predecessors, in the Craig universe, nationality is portrayed as a parochial notion, paradoxically underscoring Bond's perceived irrelevance. The very essence of Bond's character, rooted in British attributes, undergoes a curious transformation, challenging traditional notions of identity within this evolving cinematic landscape. In layman's terms Daniel Craig doesn’t jump from a mountain on skis to reveal a Union Jack parachute as he glides to safety. 

Roger Moore’s famous pre-title sequence stunt in ‘The Spy Who Loved Me’ (1977). Iconic but times have changed.

As the narrative unfolds across all of his movies, Craig's Bond defies these previously established stereotypes, emerging as the embodiment of the modern male fantasy—a competent man in a world increasingly deeming men irrelevant. A world where men do not womanise and chauvinism is bordering on extinction. His journey mirrors the sentiment of the modern man, bombarded by media messages declaring “the future is female” and his redundancy in it. Nobody believes in Daniel Craig's Bond, yet he earns everyone's respect, epitomising "I can take it, Is that all you’ve got? I can take anything you throw at me."

As the series progresses, this Bond has become a symbol of competence in a shifting Hollywood landscape. The once universally admired chauvinistic macho heroes of the past now find themselves on the wrong side of public opinion. The question looms: is it because they are what used to be good, or is it a consequence of Hollywood's general shift towards subversive, postmodern storytelling? Today's male heroes no longer adhere to the stoic, unyielding figures of the past; they embody a new archetype—the good "softer" men or the subversive villain who you would understand if you simply saw their issues from his or her perspective and so they too are often heroes.

Michael B. Jordan as ‘Killmonger’ in Black Panther (2018) is a superb example of well written and well acted subversive villain.

The Modern Masculine Archetype?

Daniel Craig's Bond embodies the aspirations of many young men today. Why? His unparalleled capability is hard to overlook. An expert in hand-to-hand combat, parkour, poker, sailing, computer hacking, and maintaining peak physical shape, he epitomises the underlying message that men should inherently know how to navigate life's challenges. In a world where reactions to slights and setbacks often lead to needless anger, frustration, and worry, Bond's calm and calculated demeanour serves as a beacon. He exemplifies the mantra: if something can be changed to one's benefit, act on it; otherwise, move forward without dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.

Caterina Murino and Daniel Craig in Casino Royale (2006).

In addition to all his capabilities, Craig's Bond, like his predecessors, is beloved by women. While Bond may be a scripted male fantasy, there's a kernel of truth in women's on-screen reactions to him. Women are drawn to his capability and un-reactive nature. Bond is never pushy or cowardly; he flirts without fear of rejection. Flirting fearlessly is admirable, but it's crucial to note that adopting this approach doesn't guarantee real-world success. Nevertheless, it illustrates a practical scenario—inevitable rejection. Responding with playfulness, akin to Bond, rather than allowing rejection to trigger upset, opens the door to potential reconsideration.

James Bond's willingness to endure torture for his ideals, while metaphorical in most contexts, underscores the admiration for his commitment to his mission despite facing pain. In our life pursuits, metaphorical beatings and setbacks may occur, yet what propels us forward isn't material possessions or external validations. It's the inner conviction to stay true to our principles—a sentiment echoed by Vesper in "Casino Royale."

Sticking to one's guns in the face of adversity transcends gender. As International Men's Day approaches, we should all examine the hardships in our lives. Do they dissuade us from persisting, or can we laugh them off and stay the course?

In the eyes of Dr. Jordan Peterson, the confusion between competence and power often leads to the punishment of competence, fostering an attraction to weakness. I argue this is why Hollywood action movies that try to reinvent or subvert traditional masculinity and the traditional male fantasy fail more often than not. Daniel Craig's Bond disrupts this paradigm. He stands as a testament to competence, challenging the prevailing notion that all institutions are inherently corrupt. The Bond series, represented by MI6, the country, and the government, defies the Hollywood narrative of institutional corruption.

As International Men's Day beckons, the evolution of James Bond mirrors the broader transformation of modern masculinity and the male fantasy. Craig's Bond transcends the limitations of the traditional Hollywood hero, embodying the competence and resilience craved by the modern man in a postmodern world. I believe his journey prompts reflection on the changing face of masculinity, making this International Men's Day which I think is a fitting occasion to celebrate the enduring legacy of 007.

Lawmen: Bass Reeves and the Irresistible Allure of Westerns.

A love letter to my favourite genre…

"I love making pictures but I don't like talking about them." - John Ford.

Fortunately, I'm here. I have an ardent passion for cinematic conversations, especially when they revolve around the world of Westerns. 101 Studios have an exciting upcoming gem called "Lawmen: Bass Reeves," featuring the brilliant David Oyelowo. It's the perfect stage to express my love for traditional Westerns in film and television. So let's dive into my blend of appreciation and analysis, while keeping it short and convincing whoever is reading this, to watch more westerns.

David Oyelowo in 'Lawmen: Bass Reeves.' Paramount + (2023)

D.H. Lawrence, an insightful observer of the American psyche, once noted that the ‘quintessential American soul embodied qualities like unyielding solitude, stoicism, and a penchant for bloodshed.’ Let's take a moment to let that sink in. The period between the end of the Civil War in 1865 and the official closing of the American frontier left an indelible mark on the American character. It was a time when the untamed America of Daniel Boone and James Fenimore Cooper collided with the emerging, materialistic America represented by John Rockefeller, JP Morgan, Jasper Newton Daniel “Jack Daniel” and Upton Sinclair. This fascinating era saw a monumental struggle between the twin pillars of the American Dream – rugged individualism and liberty versus wealth and community ties. This clash, mirroring the eternal battle between freedom and opulence, still echoes in the American ethos today. The culture wars of this era are a great example of this.

Robert Ford & Jesse James

This photograph is believed to be the final image of the outlaw and Confederate figure, Jesse James, a legendary figure in the folklore of the “Old West”.

The myth of the "Old West" is said to have taken shape when dime-store novels chronicling the exploits of ‘Wild’ Bill Hickok, Billy ‘the Kid’, Wyatt Earp, and Jesse James played a pivotal role in shaping the iconic characters and scenarios we find in Western narratives – the white-hatted heroes and high noon showdowns. ‘My badge and gun’. But a great Western doesn't just showcase this myth; it delves into our fascination with it through the actions of its characters. A western is not a historical drama; it's a reflection of the era in which it's born. Paramount + "Lawmen: Bass Reeves" will unveil the true story of Bass Reeves, the first Black Deputy U.S. Marshal west of the Mississippi, providing a compelling counterpoint to Taylor Sheridan's superb "Yellowstone."

David Oyelowo & Joaquina Kalukango in Lawmen: Bass Reeves (2023)

Born a slave in Arkansas, Reeves grew up in Grayson County, Texas, following the relocation of his owner, William S. Reeves. Reeves's history during the American Civil War remains unclear. He claimed to have served in various battles, but some accounts suggest that he escaped to Indian Territory (now Kansas and Oklahoma) after an argument with his owner during a card game. In 1875, he was commissioned as a deputy U.S. marshal by Federal Judge Isaac Parker of the Western District of Arkansas, known as the "hanging judge." Reeves became responsible for apprehending criminals in a vast region of what is now Oklahoma and Arkansas. Known for his valour, Reeves apprehended more than 3,000 outlaws during his tenure and was involved in the killing of 14 of them, including his own son.

Bass Reeves.

Born a slave in Arkansas, Reeves became one of the most famous lawmen in the American West.

The Western genre's storytelling prowess has been a cornerstone of its supremacy right from the start. The first ever narrative film, "The Great Train Robbery" (1903), was a western. Early television was inundated with Westerns, persisting well into the 1960s. Yet, this ubiquity on television screens didn't come without its consequences. The sheer volume of Westerns during that period led to audience fatigue and a backlash. They transitioned from compelling narratives to historical lectures, at times resembling glamorous costume parties that inadvertently functioned as tools of cultural propaganda, furthering the cause of American societal dominance.

Some of the stand out pictures from this time however include films like John Ford's "My Darling Clementine" (1946), Howard Hawks “Red River”(1948) and notably' "Rio Bravo" (1959) convey themes of personal sacrifice, redemption, and trust in times of crisis and the very best westerns reflect profound truths that resonate deeply. Modern Westerns across the board however, have come full circle from being seen as didactic history lessons to the exciting era we enjoy today. 

Contemporary Westerns often explore "revisionist" themes, where traditional motifs are turned on their heads. The moral ambiguity inherent in the Old West becomes central, and complex anti-heroes challenge conventional American values. Taylor Sheridan's "Yellowstone" features characters who, in earlier Westerns, may have been labelled as villains but are now relatable figures with distinctive moral codes. The entire "Yellowstone" universe is exceptional, and Kevin Costner's "John Dutton" serves as a hero confronting violence and revealing the moral landscape's futility.

Cole Hauser as Rip Wheeler & Kevin Costner as John Dutton in Yellowstone (2018)

“They're building a pipeline… or a railway …  or airport…. or they’re taking our land!”  

Every great narrative revolves around conflict. Westerns focus on the clash between the archaic way of life, the way we were and the forces of sociological and technological change. Themes of violence, greed, loyalty, obsession, and honour are explored, all within the unique backdrop of the Western setting with the setting itself acting as a foil character.

The pinnacle of traditional Western cinema can be found in John Ford's "The Searchers (1956)." It's a visual masterpiece that encapsulates cinematic craftsmanship, myth-making, and storytelling. It really set the bar. The film courageously confronts a morally controversial central character and offers a deep reflection on an issue ingrained deep in American identity.

The Western's visual language, from Ford's mastery of natural landscapes to Sergio Leone's iconic vistas, is mesmerising. It's a fantasy, it’s otherworldly and firmly connected to our own reality. It's undeniably beautiful.

Similarly, the Western soundtrack plays a crucial role in crafting the iconic imagery and atmosphere of the American West. Composers like Ennio Morricone have left an indelible mark with scores that make the Wild West come to life. This musical tradition traces back to the 19th century when cowboys found solace in music. It's a legacy that contributed to the very foundations of Country Music. In film however, it's not just background noise; it's an integral narrative force. Morricone's “The Good, The Bad, The Ugly” (1966) and "Once Upon a Time in the West" (1968) scores demonstrate how music can harmonise with visuals to reveal profound depths.  

One of the greatest movies of all time.

Sergio Leone’s ‘Once Upon A Time In The West’ this movie is a marriage of cinematography, music, and elite direction.

In this picture, music becomes a tangible presence, much like a character. Morricone's mastery is evident as the harmonica in "Once Upon a Time in the West" takes on a life of its own. Silence becomes a powerful tool to intensify drama and reveal the storyline.

The influence of this Western soundtrack is very much felt in the 21st century, as seen in "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End," where Hans Zimmer pays homage to Morricone's legacy. Furthermore, this musical influence transcends genres. A testament to its influence lies in one of the most unforgettable and spine-tingling entrances in cinema history – the Massacre of the McBain Family in Leone’s "Once Upon a Time in the West." Morricone's score in this haunting iconic scene famously served as inspiration for Isaac Hayes' evocative "Walk on By."

Contemporary cinema has seen the rise of Neo-Westerns, with films like Jeymes Samuel, "The Harder They Fall", Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s - “The Revenant”, and Quinton Tarantino’s, “The Hateful Eight” which have breathed fresh life into this beloved genre, each offering a distinctive and innovative narrative. Meanwhile, television series like "The English", Steven Soderbergh’s, “Godless” and Taylor Sheridan's “Yellowstone” television universe continue to transplant the American myth into new settings.

I will always be of the opinion that the traditional Western, when executed correctly, remains the epitome of what cinema and television should aspire to be. So, do yourself a favour and watch more westerns!

Tapi Nyoni

Remembering Richard Roundtree: The Impact of Shaft and Blaxploitation Cinema.

A Tribute to Richard Roundtree, Gordon Parks, Isaac Hayes, and the Impact of Blaxploitation - by Tapi Nyoni

The recent passing of the iconic actor Richard Roundtree marks the end of an era in the history of Black Hollywood. In the last 18 months, we've bid farewell to three legendary actors—Sydney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, and Roundtree—whose presence on screen symbolised the changing mood and landscape of mid-20th-century Black America, particularly during the civil rights movement.

Richard Roundtree plays John Shaft in “Shaft” (1971). MGM

Richard Roundtree's portrayal of John Shaft in Gordon Parks' "Shaft" in 1971 was a groundbreaking moment in cinema history. The character of Shaft, a take-no-nonsense private detective, represented a departure from the earlier portrayals of Black leading men in films like "Lilies of the Field" and "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner." Shaft exuded a swagger and confidence that resonated deeply with audiences, making Roundtree an inspiration for generations of Black actors.

Roundtree's impact reached far and wide, leaving an indelible mark on actors such as Samuel L. Jackson, Denzel Washington, Wesley Snipes, and Will Smith. The importance of both "Shaft" and Roundtree's portrayal is further emphasised by the recent acknowledgment from Omari Hardwick, who attributed the character of Ghost in the popular series "Power" to Roundtree's enduring legacy.

Shaft, with its captivating story, memorable quotes, and a soundtrack composed by Isaac Hayes, became an integral part of many people's lives, mine included. Isaac Hayes' music for Shaft not only earned him the first Oscar for a Black artist but also set the standard for future Black action-adventure film soundtracks.

“Black Moses” - Isaac Hayes

Moreover, the success of "Shaft" marked a significant shift in film scoring, with a contemporary artist, Isaac Hayes, entrusted with creating the movie's musical identity. Hayes captured the essence of Shaft with his distinctive sound, using high-hat cymbals and wah-wah guitar, setting a new precedent in film composition.

Isaac Hayes' impact extended beyond the film as his music became a source of inspiration for countless artists, with tracks from the "Shaft" soundtrack frequently sampled in hip-hop. This demonstrated the enduring relevance of Hayes' work and the lasting influence of the "Shaft" soundtrack.

Gordon Parks, the director of "Shaft," for me serves as an inspiration for challenging the monolithic representation of Black characters today in British cinema and television. The film, along with others in the Blaxploitation genre, laid the foundation for many Hollywood production, character, and story conventions, including the archetype of the Black action hero, which has evolved over the years.

Inset: Gordon Parks

The Visionary - Photographer, composer, author, poet, and film director, who became prominent in U.S. documentary photojournalism in the 1940s through 1970s—particularly in issues of civil rights, poverty and Black Americans—and in glamour photography.

Roundtree's performance as the smooth-talking private eye navigating a complex plot to rescue a gangster's daughter cemented Shaft's status as cinema's first modern Black action hero. It paved the way for subsequent successes like Ryan Coogler's "Creed" and "Black Panther." Will Smith’s “I am Legend” and Wesley Snipes “Blade” to name but a few.

The film's triumphant success can be attributed to Gordon Parks' storytelling, Isaac Hayes' soundtrack, and Roundtree's charismatic portrayal. While "Shaft" might have its critics for its depiction of Black masculinity, it undeniably initiated vital conversations about the representation of Black men in film, particularly in action-oriented dramas.

As pure entertainment, "Shaft" offers a unique blend of police procedural and action, with Roundtree's irreverent and stylish performance complemented by smart, over-the-top dialogue. Shot in 1970s New York’s Harlem, Greenwich Village, and Times Square provide a captivating backdrop for the story, with a hypnotic calm amidst the urban hustle and bustle.

A scene from ‘Shaft’ (1971)

The mise en scene, presented in a linear montage of shots, aligns with the busy streets of 1970s New York, capturing a sense of grit and surrealism. Meanwhile Hayes' soundtrack adds to the film's atmosphere, earning him an Oscar for Best Original Song and Best Original Dramatic Score.

Shaft Opening Credit. ‘Shaft’ - (1971)

While there were certain challenges concerning the depiction of the Black community and its association with the then-controversial Black Power movement in the United States, Roundtree's performance encapsulated a nuanced complexity that mirrored the lived experiences of Black Americans within racially charged environments.

His portrayal skill-fully conveyed the daily struggles and grievances confronted by Black individuals, communicated through subtle gestures, expressions, and Roundtree's impeccable execution.

"Shaft" surpassed the boundaries of cinematic achievement to emerge as a cultural turning point, laying the foundation for Black composers and artists while marking the dawn of the Blaxploitation era. Its profound influence on both the music and film industries remains indelible, with its soundtrack serving as an enduring muse for artists across diverse genres. From Curtis Mayfield to the RZA, the legacy of this film and its iconic character knows no bounds.

As we find ourselves amidst a burgeoning cinematic epoch, characterised by the resurgence of "New Blaxploitation" films, it is imperative to acknowledge the evolution and lasting impact of this genre. These modern narratives, exemplified by films such as “Sorry to Bother You”, "They Cloned Tyrone," "Black Dynamite," and "Dolemite Is My Name," represent a fusion of classic Blaxploitation aesthetics with a contemporary lens. They delve into the intricacies of the Black experience in an ever-changing society, a reflection of the genre's enduring relevance.

“Dolemite is my name, and rapping and tapping is my game. Yes, I'm young and free, and just as bad as I wanna to be! Take a look at me! I'm a rare specimen of a man, don't you agree?” - Eddie Murphy as Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite Is My Name. (2019)

Dolemite Is My Name - Netflix Movie Poster (2019)

"They Cloned Tyrone" mirrors the essence of its Blaxploitation forebears while dissecting the multifaceted experiences of Black characters within a society in constant flux. "Black Dynamite" skilfully pays homage to the genre's tropes, all the while infused with a satirical flair that underscores the genre's transformation over the years. In a similar vein, "Dolemite Is My Name" pays tribute to Rudy Ray Moore, a trailblazing figure in the Blaxploitation movement, encapsulating the enduring power of storytelling within the Black community.

In light of this cinematic renaissance, we must not forget the personal, cultural, and historical significance of Richard Roundtree as "Shaft." The recent loss of Roundtree, alongside the enduring legacies of Gordon Parks and Isaac Hayes, serves as a poignant reminder of the profound influence these artists have exerted upon the film industry. Their pioneering work continues to be an enduring source of inspiration, providing an essential foundation for the ongoing dialogue surrounding Black representation in cinema. As we navigate this evolving era, let us honour the past, celebrate the present, and anticipate the future of "New Blaxploitation" cinema, guided by the indomitable spirit of its pioneers. Always remember:

“They say that Shaft is a bad mother...
SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
I’m talking bout’ Shaft...
Then we can dig it!””

— Isaac Hayes, "Shaft" OST (1971)

I write this in memory of these legends, I say, RIP Gordon Parks. RIP Isaac Hayes and RIP Richard Roundtree aka SHAFT.

Striking for the Soul of Cinema: A Renaissance Amidst Chaos?

As I gaze upon the current state of Hollywood, a longing for a bygone era tugs at my heart—the golden age of the 1970s. Quentin Tarantino's profound words about films that defy conformity resonate deeply, revealing the creative void that haunts the modern-day film industry.

Amidst the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, Hollywood faces a crucial moment of introspection and transformation. This unexpected production pause allows for addressing pressing concerns, from fair compensation for writers and actors to safeguarding creativity against AI's rise. A reevaluation of pay structures and thoughtful integration of AI will pave the way for a renewed focus on artistic integrity and the well-being of the industry's talented workforce.

WGA and SAG-AFTRA picketers outside Netflix offices in L.A. on July 14. TIFFANY TAYLOR/THR STAFF - Source: www.hollywoodreporter.com

The 1970s was an undeniably transformative era for cinema, and it holds a special place in my heart. It was a time when the New Hollywood movement peaked, and visionary filmmakers dared to break free from the constraints of the traditional studio system. They embarked on audacious journeys of creativity and innovation, resulting in films that stood out for their edginess, risk-taking, and unapologetic exploration of controversial themes.

What truly set the 1970s apart from other decades was the profound social and political relevance that permeated the very soul of '70s cinema. As society underwent tumultuous changes, filmmakers seized the opportunity to offer thought-provoking commentaries on critical issues like civil rights, feminism, the Vietnam War, Watergate, and the counterculture movement. The silver screen became a powerful canvas for introspection, holding up a mirror to society, challenging norms, and sparking vital conversations. Immortal classics such as "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," "All the President's Men," and "Network" transcended mere movies, becoming profound reflections of the times.

Recently, I revisited a timeless classic, "Jaws," which is often hailed as the first true blockbuster. I couldn't help but admire its ingenious simplicity. The film revolves around a man's quest to kill a terrorising shark in a small seaside town, skilfully maintaining a gripping two-hour runtime with just four key characters—the shark, Chief Martin Brody, Matt Hooper, and Quint. Unlike many of today's films that bombard the audience with events in the first act to gain early engagement, "Jaws" adeptly builds tension and suspense, allowing the story to unfold organically. The brilliant direction of Steven Spielberg, the iconic musical score composed by John Williams, and the use of practical effects create a compelling and immersive cinematic experience that continues to resonate across generations.

The legendary Roy Scheider as Brody in Jaws, 1975

The enduring appeal of "Jaws" lies in its ability to tap into the primal fear of the unknown and human vulnerability in the face of a formidable predator. The film resonates with audiences on a deeply emotional level, offering heart-pounding moments and a cathartic climax that leaves viewers both relieved and satisfied. Witnessing the surviving characters' safe return to the shore provides a sense of closure to the intense ordeal they faced.

Beyond "Jaws," the creative spirit of the '70s extended across various genres, igniting a true renaissance in filmmaking. In the realm of crime films, filmmakers fearlessly embraced moral ambiguity, while the horror genre delved into the realms of psychological terror, liberating itself from conventional tropes. In the realm of science fiction and fantasy, visionary storytelling and breathtaking visuals soared to new heights, as filmmakers fearlessly broke free from the shackles of traditional genre conventions.

During this transformative era, a remarkable movement emerged—Blaxploitation films. These films offered a unique and authentic perspective on the African American experience, shedding light on stories that were often overlooked or marginalised. While some critics may have dismissed them as more commercial than artistic, I believe they played a crucial and groundbreaking role in shaping the cinematic landscape. One cannot deny the profound influence of films like "Shaft," as they paved the way for the groundbreaking creativity seen in movies like "Saturday Night Fever." Blaxploitation films left an indelible mark on the New Hollywood movement, expanding the boundaries of storytelling and challenging societal norms.

Richard Roundtree in Shaft, 1971

“Blaxploitation films left an indelible mark on the New Hollywood movement, expanding the boundaries of storytelling and challenging societal norms.”

Simply put, this was a remarkable era in cinema history, and its impact on filmmaking is undeniable. As I live in a perpetually submerged state of consuming cinema from New Hollywood, I am reminded of the unique power of storytelling and the profound influence it can have on society. It is my hope that the spirit of the '70s will inspire future filmmakers to embrace creativity, take risks, and use their craft to explore the complexities of the human experience, just as those visionary filmmakers did decades ago.

I see the creative spirit of the '70s, as a guiding light for the future of Hollywood. This transformative journey beckons a profound shift in mindset, with an unwavering focus on storytelling that deeply resonates, enlightens, and enriches the human experience. As the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes continue, I hope they, too, strike for the soul of cinema.

Embracing inclusivity is of utmost importance, but it must be done with sincerity and authenticity, crafting narratives that genuinely represent the diverse voices and experiences of our world. As I honour the cherished legacy of the past, I genuinely believe Hollywood must embrace the present and future by collaborating with daring new filmmakers who defy the constraints of 21st-century societal pressures.

By holding true to the essence of storytelling, championing originality, and nurturing the visionaries of tomorrow, Hollywood will pave the way for a glorious new golden age of cinema. One that cherishes creativity above all, elevates the soul of cinema, and ushers in an era of unforgettable stories that transcend time and touch the hearts of generations to come.