GRAB MY HAND: A LETTER TO MY DAD was a gift to my grieving father and now a message to all to cherish every second you have with the ones you love while you still can. #GateCheckpic.twitter.com/fFbVuEReyo
If you saw Selma, (which you should. There are no excuses) this moment hit you like a punch to the gut. 47 years later, and another innocent life taken away. May both their souls rest in peace
The Oscar nominations were announced this morning. There will be plenty of analysis regarding good surprises and bad surprises, and I may dip my toes in later today. But the most egregious omission is the sadly not-entirely-surprising absence of Selma’s Ava DuVernay from the five contenders nominated for Best Director. To the extent that one can be “angry” about a certain filmmaker not being nominated for a major award that honors the best in filmmaking, I am angry. I am angry both because she deserved a nomination. I am angry because if the legacy of DuVernay’s Selma becomes shaped by its Oscar-season controversy, I fear that it will affect the artistic opportunities afforded to its African-American female director in a manner different than if Selma would have come under fire under the directorial lens of a white male filmmaker.
Martin Luther King, Jr., was born January 15, 1929—here after arrest, Montgomery Bus Boycott (1956): http://t.co/19SVx0eFDO
Ms. DuVernay directed one of the very best films of the year and has been lauded and celebrated accordingly for the last two months and yet she was shoved aside for at least a few contenders who were nowhere near as celebrated. There is a real chance that this terrific and towering achievement that highlights the profoundly heroic and blood-stained work of those who worked with and for Martin Luther King Jr. during the “Civil Rights Era” will be forever defined by the notion that it wasn’t nice enough to a powerful white guy in a supporting role.
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