Cinematical

The big-name movies may get most of the press at film fests, but it's often unearthing the jewels of the smaller indie films with less publicity that makes a film fest great for me. White Lies, Black Sheep, the newest film from Afropunk director James Spooner, examines issues of race and racism refracted through the lens of the New York City rock scene. With Afropunk, a 66-minute documentary, Spooner took a look at racism through the stories of four black punk rockers. White Lies, Black Sheep picks up the thread more or less where Afropunk left off, this time in a mockumentary-type film that blurs the lines between truth and fiction. In White Lies, Black Sheep we meet AJ, a young black kid in New York City who, in embracing the predominantly white rock music and party night night life, actively rejects anything he perceives as being typically "black." AJ, who straightens his hair, wears tight-fitting rocker-boy clothes and dates only white girls, insists that race isn't even an issue to him; and yet, his nearly obsessive rejection of everything that could be construed as "black" belies that assertion.

We get to know AJ both through the camera following him around, and through a series of "interviews" with his friends -- a delicious assortment of New York City party people with such interesting job titles as "promoter," "DJ," "Go-go Dancer." How do they feel about AJ? Well, he's not really black -- at least, not "black" black. Sure, his skin is dark, but he doesn't wear long white t-shirts and baggy jeans, or listen to rap and hip-hop, so he must not be "black," right? Heck, no. AJ's a rocker, AJ makes out exclusively with white girls, AJ's cool, AJ throws a weekly party that he invites everyone in the NYC rock scene to attend (these people's lives apparently revolves around partying every night except for Saturday, which is reserved for the lame yuppy types to get their freak on. AJ is one hip and happening black kid on the mostly white rocker scene.Like a lot of young people, at least a part of AJ's rejection of his blackness is about rebelling against his father, a demanding, proudly black man who does not understand his son's odd insistence on trying to be white. AJ decorates his room with pictures of white rockers and a giant Rolling Stones poster. He wears those cute little tight-fitting hot pink brief underwear you see adorning the impossibly skinny mannequins at American Apparel and Gap. He chemically straightens his hair so he can spike it out, much to the chagrin of his white best friend, who is terribly disappointed that AJ won't wear his hair in a 'fro.

When AJ gets rejected by a white girl he really likes, though, his perception of himself starts to shift. AJ reads Malcom X (given to him by aforesaid white best friend), reluctantly at first, and then with greater interest. The more he reads, the more he starts to think about the lifestyle he's choosing to live and who he's hanging with. One of the best moments in the film is when AJ finally finds the courage to step into a black nightclub. He self-consciously pulls a tight-fitting cap over his straightened, spiky hair, and walks nervously into the club. This is a well shot, conceived and acted scene, and we see AJs character arc progress in the space of a few moments.

He walks in looking uncomfortable and out of place in a room full of African-Americans. It's like he's stepped into a foreign culture and doesn't know the rules, and in a sense he has; he hangs on the sidelines, watching for a while, but gradually we see him get a feel for the hip-hop beat of the music. He watches the dancing, and we can see that he's studying the dancers almost anthropologically, sizing up the mores of this microcosm of society before plunging in. When he finally does start to dance and move, and interact with with the crowd, we see AJ transform -- his face relaxes and changes, he smiles, his body language shifts, and for the first time since we've met AJ, he seems like he feels comfortable in his own skin.

From there, AJ's character arc continues to involve, and it's fascinating watching this boy who'd rejected his family, his heritage, the entire subculture of anything the deemed too "black," start to accept not only the subculture, but also himself. Director James Spooner, who was himself a black kid hanging in a white scene in his youth, brings his unique perspective to bear in telling this story of AJ's journey toward himself. Think that race doesn't matter to you, that you know all there is to know about white folks and black folks and the subtleties of racism in the undercurrent of society? Catch White Lies and Black Sheep, and supplement it with a viewing of Spooner's Afropunk for a well-rounded perspective on this director's unique and engaging viewpoint. Spooner will make you think, and he does so in a way that doesn't preach or pontificate, that shows rather than tells, and that entertains and engages, a nicely balanced combination that's exactly what's need to make an "alternative" type of indie film deeply satisfying. Now I'm hungry for more, and wondering what other stories Spooner might have to tell. And if you leave them wanting more, you've hit the mark.