Collaborative Blogging, Film Reviews

What Happened, Miss Simone? or: Walking with Grace

We could be doing better to learn more about black history and activism to amplify the work of black folks and contribute to dismantling white supremacy. This month, we’ll be highlighting some of the lives and experiences of black people on the Blog Collab–and, going forward, being more intentional about the films, directors, and messages we give our time and attention. We’re kicking off the month with an absolute legend of music and black advocacy, Nina Simone.

The Film:

What Happened, Miss Simone?

The Premise:

The story of Nina Simone’s success, jeopardized by abuse, mental illness, and both public and industrial responses to her Civil Rights activism.

The Ramble:

“I’ll tell you what freedom is to me: no fear. I mean really, no fear. If I could have that half of my life.”

Nina Simone expressed her thoughts on freedom over 50 years ago, and they still ring all too real. Though she gained fame as one of the most talented jazz and blues performers ever, Simone was truly fired up by Civil Rights activism while battling abuse, mental illness, and rejection by the music industry. Our film gives us some insight into the complexity of Simone’s public and private lives.

Nina Simone, a young black woman, sings and plays piano in a dimly lit room with several people watching her performance.

Playing piano in church from a young age, Simone grew to believe she would be the first black woman to receive recognition for playing classical piano. When two white women noticed Simone’s talent, she gained the lessons and sponsorship to pursue this dream. However, at the same time, Simone grew lonely, belonging in neither the black neighborhood where she lived, nor the white neighborhood where she spent much of her time practicing.

After studying piano at Juilliard for a short time, Simone expected to continue her studies at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia, but she was denied admission, very likely due to her race. Out of money to continue her education, Simone had no choice but to work in order to contribute to the rest of her family, who had relocated to be with her in Philly. Working in a club in Atlantic City and playing jazz her mother would never approve of, the girl born Eunice Waymon became the woman known as Nina Simone.

Nina Simone sits, one leg crossed over the other, smoking a cigarette, while she has a conversation with a couple of figures who are offscreen.

With her unique way of playing classically inspired jazz and singing with deep emotion, it isn’t long before Nina Simone records her first album, Little Girl Blue. To her surprise, her cover of “I Loves You, Porgy” is an instant hit. Soon after, Simone meets Andy Stroud, the man who will become her husband and manager.

After the birth of her daughter, Simone’s career begins to really take off. She plays Carnegie Hall, though in her mind isn’t playing music that measures up to the classical piano she grew up performing. Despite her success, it’s at this point that those around her notice the toll constant work takes on Simone’s well-being. Husband Andy is psychologically and physically abusive, spending a good deal of time in his managerial role encouraging her to always keep working. Simone is on several medications to deal with her depression and trouble sleeping, and suffers from drastic mood swings. At the heart of all of her work, there seems to be nothing; in spite of her achievements, Simone is still looking for meaning.

Nina Simone smiles at the young child (her daughter) she is holding, seated next to her husband.

Simone begins to find this meaning in activism. After the Birmingham church bombing that kills four young girls, Simone releases the controversial song “Mississippi Goddam.” Radios won’t play it as it’s too indecent because of the swearing…but, you know, white supremacist murder of black children is fine. Simone connects with the Civil Rights movement, finding purpose in fighting for the rights of black Americans. She connects with playwright Lorraine Hansberry in particular, and tells Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to his face that she’s not nonviolent.

Fully committed to Civil Rights, Simone begins playing exclusively political songs. While she finds support in the movement, she gets none from her husband, who resents that she prioritizes politics over her (and his) career. Experiencing suicidal thoughts and seemingly having breakdowns at several times, the assassination of MLK, Jr. drives Simone from the States to Liberia. This time in her life seems to be a turning point as she feels happy in Liberia, but her relationship with her daughter suffers as Simone’s abusive behavior drives her away.

Nina Simone in later years, performing onstage while seated at the piano. She looks serious and focused.

With her finances in trouble, Simone jumps to Switzerland and then France to perform in clubs again. On the verge of a breakdown, several of Simone’s friends help her find a place to live and receive treatment for newly diagnosed bipolar disorder. But is that enough to help the woman who is, in the words of Qubilah Shabazz, African royalty? “How does royalty stomp around in the mud and still walk with grace?” she asks.

The Rating:

4/5 Pink Panther Heads

I’m really grateful this film exists and gives us some insight to Nina Simone’s brilliance. I knew she didn’t have a happy life before diving in, but I wasn’t prepared for all of the challenges she faced, as a performer, activist, and black woman. It’s impossible not to admire her courage as a Civil Rights activist during a time when much of white America dismissed or outright rejected its message. Her cultural and social influence is difficult to overstate as she looms so large in modern history.

To be honest, I was hoping for a bit more insight into Simone’s interiority than was presented in the film. Perhaps this is down to her struggles with mental illness and her own image–in one interview, Simone reveals that she believes the Civil Rights movement has failed, seeming to imply that she could have done more. I suppose what my brain wants is to see evidence of some peace for Miss Simone, but we can’t know if that was one of her many accomplishments, or even one she wanted.

Would my blog wife give this one a standing ovation or be that one person in the audience Miss Simone yells at to sit down? Find out in her review here!

Collaborative Blogging, Film Reviews

Hairspray, or: Climb the Whole Tree

I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use something cotton candy light and sweet at the moment. In messages with my darling blog wife, we lamented that, as winter is long past, it’s no longer socially acceptable to blame all of our woes on symptoms of SAD. I choose to now blame a lack of empowering films in my life…to be remedied shortly by this week’s pick.

The Film:

Hairspray (2007)

The Premise:

A fat teen in 1960s Baltimore dreams only of dancing on a local TV show…until she becomes involved in the fight for integration.

The Ramble:

Tracy Turnblad is an energetic, upbeat teen in 1960s Baltimore who loves nothing more than dancing. Her classmates and even her mother put Tracy down for her weight, but she is unfazed; she embraces her fatness and describes herself as “big, blonde, and beautiful.”

With her bff Penny, Tracy watches the Corny Collins Show, the local cable dance show, religiously. Tracy dreams of the day she will be noticed by the show and by heartthrob lead dancer Link Larkin.

A fat girl dances and sings down the hallway of a high school as others look on.

Tracy’s mother Edna means well but struggles with her body image and hopes above all to shield her daughter from heartbreak. When Tracy gets the opportunity to audition for her favorite show, Edna is less than supportive–good thing papa Wilbur and Penny have got her back.

Under several laundry lines, a middle-aged couple dance together on a rooftop.

No surprises here: Tracy makes it onto the show and is an immediate success. Fans of the show love Tracy’s energy and sweet dance moves. Not so much a fan? Undisputed queen of the show Amber, whose mother works for the network and makes sure her daughter gets more than her share of airtime. Amber and her mother’s panic cranks up to full-on emergency when Tracy seems to be a real contender for the title of Miss Teen Hairspray.

In school, Amber does everything she can to send Tracy to detention. Boyfriend Link does not approve of Amber’s mean-spiritedness but worries about putting his place on the show in jeopardy. Good thing Tracy’s banishment to detention means an introduction to Seaweed and his little sister. The children of legendary Motormouth Maybelle, the two show Tracy how to leave white girl dancing behind and embrace black dance moves. Unfortunately, black dancers can only strut their stuff one day a week as the network’s execs far from progressive.

A black woman with blonde hair and a leopard-print dress dances and sings while others dance in the background.

Meanwhile, sparks fly at Seaweed and Penny’s first meeting, much to the dismay of Penny’s conservative (i.e. racist, religious, repressed) mother. As Tracy and Penny spend more time with Maybelle, they become more aware of the racial injustice all around them in Baltimore. When the show’s producers eliminate “Negro Day,” the one day when black dancers are allowed to perform on the show, Tracy joins the local civil rights movement and marches for integration. Link’s hesitation divides the couple and further complications develop when Tracy goes on the run after being accused of assaulting a police officer.

A black teen smiles, standing with an arm around his younger sister

Will Tracy, Seaweed, and their friends ever dance on the show again?

The Rating:

4/5 Pink Panther Heads

The 1988 film was basically a dance revue with a loose plot tying things together, so it translates to a Broadway musical (and film) quite naturally. You could not dream of a better cast (though this is largely true of the 1988 version too). Queen Latifah and Christopher Walken are my personal faves here, but Nikki Blonsky really steps up to the lead role despite not being a household name. It makes me sad I haven’t seen her in a whole lot of roles since. My only complaint is that I really wish Edna had been played by an actual drag queen or anyone even remotely connected to the LGBT community, though John Travolta does make for a surprisingly good Edna.

Because our film clocks in at close to 2 hours, it does have the opportunity to explore some of the original film’s themes more fully. Edna has a lot more depth here, and seeing her on a journey with body positivity is quite lovely. The relationship between Edna and Wilbur is wonderful, and I adore their duet.

We get a better picture of 1960s segregation and the emotional toll it takes on the characters of color too. Queen Latifah’s number “I Know Where I’ve Been” is moving and seemingly made for her voice (and is there a greater moment in cinema history than her singing about different kinds of pie in “Big, Blonde, and Beautiful”?). I also really appreciate the film’s wisdom about the importance of integration on TV; though dismissed as light entertainment, TV reached so many audiences and had the potential to send a powerful message about civil rights by integrating.

Would my blog wife dance all night with this one or step on its toes? Find out in her review here!