Johnny Simmons

The story itself is simple; Andre and Sydney have been friends since they were children. With a friendship joined by the rise of hip-hop Andrew becomes a music producer of a morally dubious recording company and Sydney develops into an intuitive writer of a hip-hop magazine. Everyone, but our two leads, is aware of their attraction to each other. But it’s neither a disservice to them, nor the audience, that we must await their inevitable union which acts a contrivance of sorts. One thing that Brown Sugar does with aplomb is avoid shrillness. Nicole Ali Parker and Boris Kodjoe have the dubious job of playing characters who’s single flaw is not being “right” for our leads i.e. not being an avid reader or music lover, respectively. I applaud Elliot and director Rick Famuyiwa for not resorting to the rudimentary to destroy the characters of either. Even though Parker has a plotline that seems as just slightly misogynistic we realise that Elliot is not interesting in creating stereotypes, but real people throughout. Moreover Parker plays her role with such sincerity I always end up feeling for her dilemma as much as that of the two leads. I probably will keep wondering why Sanaa Lathan has not found success. I mentioned her performance in the TV adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun (the stage incarnation of which earned her a Tony nomination) and she has contributed good, if sometimes rote, work to other films of the genre – Something New (more revolutionary than it gives itself credit for), Love & Basketball (too mawkish for me at times, but ultimately pleasant). However, her work in Brown Sugar is particularly stellar, for me at least. Her chemistry with Taye Diggs (why hasn’t his star risen?) impresses and they could handle the entire film on their shoulders. But they don’t have to.

“I'm not the Humphrey Bogart in this. I'm the Peter Lorre. I'm the sidekick character. You the Humphrey Bogart. You had your opening. You know what I'm saying? She wanted you to stop her from marrying the old dude, but you let it ride, you know? Same thing Bogey did, man. You're the same dude.” 

Dre: “Man, don't be dissin' Humphrey Bogart, man.”
Chris: “Why not?”
Dre: “'Cause he's Humphrey Bogart. He's the man. Yo, he was fightin' a war. That's what they did back then.”
Chris: “You know what he needed to do back then? He needed to stop fine-ass Ingrid Bergman from gettin' on the plane with the corny dude. And then, he gonna walk off in the fog with some other dude. Come on, man. With another dude, in the fog? Come on. Two grown men walk off in a fog, you don't know where they goin'? Think about it, man.”
Dre: “You smoke too much grass, man.”

It’s an awareness (and subtle hilarity) that I can’t help but applaud. It’s this awareness that makes Brown Sugar so special, like showing the realism of the music industry where an inspired rapping duo Ren & Ten (the hip-hop Dalmatians, one black with white spots, one white with black spots) burst into a passionate rendition of their latest song “The Ho is Mine”. It’s not that Elliot is mocking current artistes (though his estimations are on point, it's eerie that the track sounds like something we'd hear on the radio). It’s an awareness that everything gets commercialised, Sanaa says astutely “Hip hop was changing, and I didn't want to share.”. I’m no where near as interested in music as I once was, especially hip-hop, but Brown Sugar reminds me of the days when a Lauryn Hill or Common track would make me get all fuzzy inside. Hip-hop has changed, but Brown Sugar isn’t an elegy. It’s a celebration; not only for music lovers, but for fans of good old simplicity. Pity it’s not more remembered, or loved.

It’s no wonder I get psyched when people praise it effusively, Heather, of Movie Mobsters; the original gangster of them all (blogging wise and otherwise-wise) approves of it:

"The Departed brings us what I’d consider another piece of movie immortality. Scorsese is known for his affinity for the gangster genre, and not since his Goodfellas has one so remarkable been made. The score and soundtrack where characters of their own, while coupled with a cinematography that was gritty and abrasive with an expected edge. Every once in awhile you take a trip to the theatre and are lucky enough to have an actual experience. This was one of those rare occasions."

I feel as if I’ve already reviewed The Departed…even though all I did was write extensively on DiCaprio’s Costigan. It’s weird, with The Aviator I reviewed it once, twice, and then wrote even more – just for good measure. But with The Departed it’s the opposite, I’m strangely closemouthed about it*. In praising The Departed, Scorsese’s direction skill is as much on focus as Thelma Schoomaker’s excellent editing. The woman is really a credit to her trade and oddly her work is more excellent here even more than in The Aviator where it seems more necessary. The Departed is rooted in its aggressive schizophrenia of sorts and it’s crafted as such. The thing is, even as it goes about claiming that its intent is on the thin line between the good guys and the bad guys (and who the hell are the good guys?) The Departed completes it narratives touching on everything else – and often with even more alacrity than the professed main theme. Yet, I don’t feel as if it’s shirking the issue either. Is Madolyn’s question to Collin “If they don’t do their jobs (i.e. criminals) you don’t have one.” a serious sociological enquiry, or is it just ill placed dinner table banter? And the obvious cycle of violence is too noticeable to be incidental. Maybe I go easy on Scorsese, because I love him so; he does get a little gratuitous sometimes – but then, I end up wondering if I’m missing something. Is there a larger reason as to why Queenan’s death is so bloody? It’s the only time I’m angry at the film (okay fine, that and Costigan’s death – I can’t quit: I know) but I’m acutely aware that his death is necessary. It’s almost like Shakespeare’s penchant for killing the innocent first (Ophelia, Cordelia, Desdemona, Banquo) but Sheen’s so good I’m just annoyed he doesn’t get the chance to do more.

If there’s one thing that’s become a bit of a trademark with Scorsese, regardless of his story, it’s not so much the inherent violent tension in his films but it’s the tendency to leave questions unanswered. It’s the same when I think of my favourite Scorsese pic that doesn’t make it into the actual top 100 – New York / New York. Despite its ostensibly tedious length Marty is always a little reticent in making judgements on his characters. It’s a bit similar with the people we touch on here. Marty is so careful not to make Costigan an unfailing hero – other than DiCaprio’s Amsterdam (and perhaps, him too) he’s always intent on using troubled men as the catalyst for his drama. Billy is not quite as perverse as Travis he has just the touch of nuanced badness – which is one the same level with badassery. He’s just as psychologically conflicted as Newland, Henry and yes even Christ. Call it consistency, or call it unoriginality or blame it on Monahan and make DiCaprio culpable, but it’s a running thread I admire and one that transcends to the supporting characters as well, although with a little less…ummm, subtlety. The intuitive M. Carter from M. Carter at the Movies brings up such salient points in reminding why this is such a good film…

"In the Scorsese gangster canon, GoodFellas tends to reign supreme. And yet there’s another film he’s made that’s every bit as edgy, brutal and grimly funny as that de facto classic. With its talent-heavy, all-star cast (DiCaprio and Damon hold their own against Jack Nicholson), The Departed, Scorsese’s twisty Infernal Affairs remake, is an exhilarating mix of find-the-rat stunts, mind games, gang rivalries, dirty politics, storylines that bend back on themselves and two deaths so shocking they keep smarting days, even weeks, later. And because it’s Scorsese, everything is set perfectly to a soundtrack that funnels complex emotions into songs."

"I'll provoke the ire of Scorsese fans for saying this - but I think this can stand tall and be counted amongst the best of his impressive filmography. I'm also very pleased with Shutter Island, though, so what do I know? At once a return to the mean streets that defined the early part of his career and yet strangely a more stylised film, this is the movie I watch once a year with my girlfriend. The first time we watched it, she had missed it in the cinema, so I booked a large room on campus, a projector, some popcorn buckets and drinks holders from a cinema, and surprised her for Valentines Day with a screening. Casino Royale may have been the film we saw on our first date, but I think The Departed will always be "our" film."