The Inkwell: That One Summer Spent with Just Us.

When I think about the 1995 film "The Inkwell"   I often think about my own adolescent years, and wonder just how important it was to my own growth,  and evolution that I saw a unique “Coming of age” film which featured an entirely black cast in the midst of a new black Hollywood Renaissance in the 90's.  That I saw the portrayal of a sweet,  awkward,  lonely young African American boy on a journey of self discovery where nobody dies, and the worst possible tragedy is the looming possibility of divorce….

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The Inkwell is one of those movies I fight for passionately because it is  underrated,  tender,  and a warm, meandering portrait of an aspect of black life that like Eve's Bayou, (Though not as well executed) examines from a uniquely black perspective a segment of black culture rarely covered- The black upper middle class.  A film I love watching because the film loves it's characters. A film that loves its settings, the clothing from its respective period, and the time and space it occupies.   Both “The Inkwell”, and “Eve’s Bayou” feel like love letters to the periods in which they take place,  and the ways in which black people resolved themselves to make something of their own both in the era in which the movies take place,  and contemporarily in creation of the art,  and the storytellers who decided these stories were the ones they wanted to tell.  On a couple of small bits of beautiful land, a kind of vacuum of upward black mobility took place all over parts of this country,  creating white flight,  that left these black people with something to call their own.  A space where they could be safe to grow their fortunes and their children adjacent though not necessarily out from under the watchful gaze and influence of white supremacy.  And this tone extends to the viewing experience in both films.

Watching The Inkwell invokes the same type of feeling as that first warm ray of sunlight on your face out from the shade of a tree. There is an ease that pervades the viewing experience and that has a lot to do with director Matty Rich's soft touch behind the camera, Ceci’s costume design, and Terence Blanchard’s score.  Even more than that it feels like a reminder, of simpler times. If at times the movie feels like an extended sitcom, I believe that is a part of its charm. Rich's first feature film "Straight outta Brooklyn" was rougher in almost every single way, from its gritty setting in the inner cities of New York,  to its frank depiction of aimless black youth and minimal production value.  Earnest, and compelling, “Straight Out of Brooklyn” covered similar though not altogether the same ground as the films that would come out that same year and subsequently, like Boyz in the Hood,  and Menace to Society. But “The Inkwell” represented an almost complete pivot, and yet the roughness, the feeling of something that doesn’t aim for perfection is still there.  The Inkwell is warm, touching,  sensitive,  and funny.  The production value is represented not in sleek camera angles and upscale violence,  but in outstanding costume design and attention to the details of the era.  It veers off the beaten path and the results aren’t always great, but they are almost always interesting. Some contemporary reviews said the film dragged, and from a technical aspect it's not an unreasonable find, but it’s not curious either. I found commentary, heart, and depth even in those uneven spots, like those between a game Morris Chestnut, and A.J. Johnson as a couple teetering on divorce themselves due to Chestnut’s philandering ways, and between Drew’s own parents, and Brenda’s family - (especially a scene involving a tennis match that goes wrong) incredibly endearing, political, and humorous. This filmnis not just to borrow a phrase from Jim Kelly’s Williams in “Enter the Dragon” - “Too busy looking good to be bothered with its defeats. It feels good, and it feels good because of the love put in it, which permeates every aspect from cinematography to the casting and by extension the performances.  Watching these sterling,  delightful,  vibrant performances from actors whose opportunities to inhabit characters such as these were few and far between was, and is a joy unto itself that pays off in different ways every time I watch.   Joe Morton bristles with his patent expository anger as a lost revolutionary named “Kenny” who had been left behind in a movement that no longer had the same motor, death surrounded him and it still does as represented in his eyes and his resentment of his own grief.  Suzanne Douglas's  Brenda, a woman unseen and under acknowledged by her mother,  her sister,  and of course her husband is an anchor to the films heart. Douglass brings a toughness similar to that of a reed in the wind, there is bending but no breakage, she is under explorered, but well understood. The actress has a similar skill-set to Angela Bassett, and like most of this cast was criminally under used in her career.  Larenz Tate heartwarmingly embodies a young black male trying to find his place in a world where he doesn't identify with the ready made pockets of existence that  exists for black people and in this case black men.  Tate made quite the pivot here as an actor himself,   showing off an impressive range coming from his explosive,  and menacing role as O-Dawg in Menace to Society.  Everything from his gait,  to his beats in delivery morphs to code the audience to the vast chasm between experience that exist between the two characters.  Turning that same kinetic energy on its head from terror to endearment….

At Inkwell Beach, summer's never been so much fun! It's a time and a place where cool clothes, hot music, and good friends turn a dull family trip into the summertime vacation of a lifetime! Critics everywhere praised THE INKWELL -- the hot comedy treat that delivers outrageous summertime fun and good time entertainment, all set to an irresistible soundtrack!

But Tate is not alone, from Jada Pinkett's broken ballerina, to Glynn Turman's scene stealing pompous, indignant, black Republican ,  or Vanessa Bell Calloway as Brenda's buoyant,  but sometimes mean spirited sister, the actors turned in performances that in collusion with Matty Rich's direction,  and Trey Ellis (who later distanced himself from the project due to creative differences) and Paris Qualles script romanticize-  in both the best and worst ways possible-  a time,  and segment of black life in America.    I could go on a diatribe about each one of these actors at length.  All black actors whose careers we're never as full and consistent as their talent and dedication demanded.  Gathered here to tell a story centered around a people whose story has never been as fully and consistently told as its humanity and dedication demanded. The actors are allowed free reign, as Rich himself allows for scenes and camera work that feels alot more like extemporization, than preparation, even when sometimes some reigning in might've helped.  The many subplots are mostly underdeveloped and resolved in the same way you might find in a popular sitcom,  but the power of the movie is not in its technical proficiency,  or scope,  or its use of language.  It's in the story that's being told,  who it's being told about,  and the love with which it's being told. It's in Terence Blanchard's score which feels like the musical version of a comforting talk with a parent.  The costume design, and its appreciation for the multi-faceted nature of black hair, without condescension, and our dress without the superficiality of blatant appeals to nostalgia.  This isn't always a recipe for success,  but in the case of stories you've never been introduced to before this is often enough.  The Inkwell is a lot like a summer vacation, in that it feels too short, and full of missed opportunities,  but it also feels freeing,  and refreshing,  and is usually always remembered fondly in the leaving.   The Inkwell was and is also a vacation from the dominance of whiteness in the domain of film.   A vacation from the implicit denial of the importance of black contributions to the Americana.  A vacation away from the implicit characterizations of black men as inherently dangerous,  and menacing,  and of black women as laborious nannies. It was a vacation from Hollywood’s myopic focus on black long-suffering. It took me back to weekends over my cousins house thinking of nothing but swimming pools, girls, and staying up late.  Drew’s awkwardness is lingered on , but not punitively. A message so many black men who refuse to let go of their own ungraceful youth won’t stop doing to themselves. It doesn’t vilify or demonize Jada Pinkett’s young Lauren, it empathizes and understands her, as so many black men refuse to do with the young women of their past. There is no scene where Drew gets back at her, or a scene where she realizes what she’s missing out on, (a wish fulfillment fantasy of so many boys growing up and as grown ups) because the vital portion of Drew’s coming of age is learning how to cope properly with heartache, and disappointment rather than “Burning his own house down”. This learning curve is aided by a subplot where Drew - a young black male attends therapy, at the urging of his Aunt, and Mother. And that Therapy is rooted in black tradition, and spirituality. The resulting scenes between he and the therapist (Phyllis Yvonne Stickney as Dr. Wade) are so tender, so indelibly sweet, I tear up at the mere conjuring of them in my mind. Its a message, so poignant and unique I still have not seen the like in black film and it was worlds apart from its cinematic peers of the time.

The Inkwell is as Roger Ebert once put it, (in one of the few good reviews it received) "An innocent comic fantasy". The only shame of it being that these types of fantasies be they for women,  or other  groups within the wide spectrum of marginalization- are some near 25 years later still being told so sparingly. Which I think adds to the fond warmth and glow of the inkwell all these years later. It is black film about us, for us, that speaks to us and not at us. A film that opened up the dark room of black cinema at the time and allowed some light in. Allowing us to forget for a couple of hours the violent and oppressive abuse of inner city life under white hegemonic structures, and remember beaches, sunlight, hormones, and Marvin Gaye. Places where we created with our own loving hands a haven for ourselves. In the winter of black life in America for me, cinematically “The Inkwell” was about an escape. A summer spent with just us.