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Uncertain Women

Kendrick Lamar’s We Gon Be Alright rings like an alarm against the hard and soft edges of a Southern California milieu. Images of weathered storefronts are punctuated with heaven's high palm trees. These are the first five seconds of HBO’s Insecure. Lamar’s alarm is a call to Insecure’s audience.An audience that live tweets beloved episodes of Living Single as a reprieve from images of black death affixed to our timelines. An audience salivating for “slice of life” television. Television where reality mustn’t be suspended as our heroine mates with a doe eyed President. Television detached from record label melodrama. Television devoid of the moralistic teachings of a Madea. Television present.

In its premiere season we meet Insecure’s Issa at a crossroads, where she finds her life stagnant. At  her nonprofit job she’s surrounded by clueless yet well meaning white folk. At home, her boyfriend Lawrence has gone limp in life and bed. And alongside her, Molly,  a supremely competent attorney and best friend. Issa wrestles with the chains of a long term relationship while Molly mines dating with a weak kneed fortitude, falling head over heels for every other “looks good on paper” suitor.

With Insecure, Rae forwards the work of black female showrunners like Mara Brock Akil’s Girlfriends and Yvette Lee Bowser’s Living Single whose work revered the intimacy of black female friendship under the confines of network television. Insecure’s world is buoyant in ways multi- camera sitcoms couldn’t be.  Viewers travel past the familiar cafe and tertiary oblong characters that coated yesteryear and watch those inspirations rise to another level. Insecure’s LA is swaddled in a soulful synth where women are anti-heroes. They flirt with infidelity, hold grudges following bitch-laden tirades, they use men for sex and quickly discard.

Issa and Molly are in their late twenties, a decade left mostly untouched during Black television’s golden age.  They are still figuring out how to be the women presented in the sister-friend sitcoms we hold so dear, discovering how to be friends to one another, and grappling with self love. Still ridding themselves  of the idealistic  notions of love formed  at a showing of The Notebook. Though proposed, a r-i-n-g is the farthest thing from their sights.

Insecure is television present, divorced from the “strong” labeling tacked on to any woman of color with a semblance of common sense. Its women are flawed and striving. They are their own projects to perfect or manipulate to alright.

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Chasing The Clouds Away

Today is the calendar end  of summer’s flora and the fauna glory. Here, in the district we trade in the humidity for crisp air that quickly transitions into threats of polar vortex’. So before the cold creeps in, here are a few things to do before your shutter in.

Kayak in Georgetown

Or paddle board. Or take a twilight tour. Because who doesn’t want to do a soft reenactment of Meryl Streep in ‘The River Wild‘.

Union Market Drive In

Make America Great Again. Yea, sure. The only vestige of the forlorn time that I’d like to see make a comeback is the drive-in movie theater. Lucky for those of us in the District, Union Market will be showing its last film of its annual summer series on October 7th, Ghostbusters.

Milk s h a k e

Grab a vegan milkshake. Not exactly guilt free, but a healthier alternative to the cold creamy beverages that usher in thoughts of  diners and iconic movie scenes. Top of mind: Three Twisted Vegans on Georgia Ave and Hip City Veg in Chinatown.

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A Seat At The Table

I’ve come to realize that as a young person I had the unique fortune to grow up in a family steeped in our identity as a Black American family. My mother bounced through holiday sales in order to place Black Barbie dolls under the Christmas tree. Black art and excellence were honored through trips to places like Baltimore’s Great Blacks In Wax Museum. My aunties’ subscriptions to Essence, Jet, and Ebony coated the coffee tables. And the Color Purple was held up as the ultimate expression of Black life depicted in Hollywood and literature.

I didn’t have to look far to see someone like  me or the woman I would come to be. My family made it a priority. I’m not sure if it was because of pride, the dearth of representation, or a mix of both. Following this year’s #oscarssowhite (and ableist and male and transphobic) controversy many are holding a more discerning eye to representation in Hollywood. Television is a medium with a quicker response time than film. The slate of Fall 2016 shows reflects an apt response to what’s served as the status quo for far too long.

Here are a few shows that I’m looking forward to:

“Better Things” FX

“Atlanta” FX

Speechless “ABC”

“Insecure” HBO

“Queen Sugar” OWN

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Lake Shore Drive

My summer life has been marked by lengthy commutes. The T in WMATA now stands for Track Maintenance. And with each minute sucked away by underground travel, I’ve become more acquainted with books and the formidable sounds of Chicago’s creative class. I’ve been reflecting on my relationship with music and the devices that usher in the sounds that fuel my day. During those thoughts, I’ve calculated that I haven’t walked down a street solo without earbuds stuffed in my ears since at least 2004.  Before my eighth grade year, I begged my parents for an iPod. Prior to the click wheel, the  JVC anti-skip portable CD player served as a capable arm and shield from my Dad’s nagging and my sister’s hassling.  Cue Brandy’s Afrodisiac and Gwen Stefani’s L.A.M.B. Back to Chicago.

In April, when Chance the Rapper’s Coloring Book emerged I hadn’t realized that he’d introduce me to the artists that would lace the soundtrack to my summer, but he did. Chance’s frequent collaborators are politically astute, #blackgirlmagic, vibey and most importantly, talented.  Now, those minutes stuffed in a sardine can of a rail car are a little more bearable. Listen to why:

Jamila Woods//  ”E m e r a l d  S t r e e t”

Noname// “D i d d y  B o p”

Chance The Rapper // “F i n i s h  L i n e”

Saba // “G P S”

Vic Mensa // “D r i v e  M e  C r a z y”

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TV-MA

Middling romantic dramas featuring middle age, high-earning white people are my visual comfort food. I found nourishment by locking  my door in a house with a mom that didn’t believe in locks to sneak in episodes of  Nip/Tuck,  in catching Dan in Real Life on TBS, and in ogling Diane Lane(Cate Blanchett , Kate Winslet, and Meryl Streep) carry on illicit affairs in mid-range films. Though fiction, these films were an introduction into how relationships fracture. How intentions jumble. And in the most dramatic sense, how a knowing glance can lead to ruin.

Which brings me to Casual, the newest edition to my book of comfort food recipes. The series centers on the romantic and familial life of Valerie, a newly divorced single mother living with her brother Alex and her daughter Laura. I don’t need to tell you that Valerie is  divorced as a result of her husband’s affair. Or that she owns her own counseling practice and Alex successfully cofounded a dating app. Or that they are both floundering  in their dating lives, she a novice having been married for 17 years and he a non-committal man child. It fills my plate.

Jokes aside, its a drama that leads with dialogue.  The characters are clear-eyed in their wrongness. They are pupils of their quirks, knowing how screwy they are in life yet lacking the full will to make better on their shortcomings. I have scene long eyerolls when I’m confronted with the travails of Alex’ love life. But even those scenes are ripe with meaningful talks on co-dependency and maturity. My favorite scene of the show aired just  this week. Valerie and Drew, her estranged husband dine in a cafe after hacking away at their taxes. In the scene, the ex-pair happen upon a honest dialogue that has escaped them in their interactions since his cheating came to light. Drew believes they are destined to be unsatisfied, while Valerie conjures up  the idea of cheating intimately by having illicit sex with someone she knows.

This is my comfort food.

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Like Sunshine & Rain

I should be happy, the sun has baked my complexion to warm mocha hue, my weekends are filled with brunch sessions with cherished friends, and I’m gliding through my summer reading list.

These are the months when we’re to dance off the ash of a  brutal winter, but this is a summer when a  dance floor was bloodied by actual violence. When state violence confronts the timelines I scroll for humor and family pictures. When the joy of the summer sun is replaced by a haze of near weekly mass killings and a presidential campaign powered by bigotry. In a summer marked by sadness, I’ve needed a few cures and I’ve explored some pop culture, food, and activities to do the job.

LISTEN Chance the Rapper Coloring Book

The rapper’s third mixtape, is the rap wunderkind at his most jubilant. Armed with the smirk of new fatherhood and a stamp of approval from his own hometown hero, Kanye West, Chancelor Bennett has hit his sweet spot. The album is a less tormented “Jesus Walks” and more Gospel music in 1997 when it discovered the Tommy Hilfiger windbreaker, choosing instead to rest within the joys of spirituality. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t tackle the perils of growing up in a city marred by violence (‘Summer Friends”) or the carefree nature of youth (“Smoke Break”). This mixtape is the warm breeze passing through the windows of your mom’s sedan after church while you wait for her to wrap up that conversation with Sister Jones. It’s familiar, it’s healing, and it’s what I want the future of the genre to sound like. It’s buoyant beats, ever-present horns and his boyish intonation has coated the drear of my summer with fushia and the royalest of blues.

DO Pokemon Go

Full disclosure, I downloaded Pokemon Go..ten minutes ago.  Prior to that, I have observed my peers jump back into our middle school hallways. Before our eyes Pokemon transformed into something that exists beyond our couches, tangible in a way that us Gogurt eating kids couldn’t have dared to imagine. A load off from quarter life stressors. And update, it’s fun!

EAT Hip City Veg

DC has enjoyed a nice upswing in fast casual restaurants in recent years, but I’m always on the hunt for a gem that is both fast and healthy. Hip City Veg is DC’s newest edition, different in that it is 100% plant based and offers vegan burgers, crispy sweet potato fries, and non-dairy milkshakes. In the center of Chinatown’s 7th Street, the shop has made this on-the-go diner’s belly warm with the Buffalo Bella, a burger made delectable with crispy portabella, celery slaw, and buffalo sauce.

WATCH Survivor’s Remorse

I made a fastbreak past this series for nearly two years. At the dawn of its premiere I watched a trailer and decided against watching a comedy, with yet another a male lead. Last week, I listened to Another Round where the hosts interviewed Tichina Arnold, comedy icon and star of Survivor’s Remorse. Listening to her reminded me of how much I have missed the frankness of her comedic voice.  I  watched binged the series and the show that I feared would be drenched in testosterone is brilliant. It is not only funny as hell, it’s smart in its warm portrayal of a Black family unvarnished by the wealth they have amassed by talent and grit. The characters are challenged, the fictionalized NBA star at the center of the narrative isn’t infantilized and the female characters, Cassie, M-Chuck, and Missy aren’t mere accessories in the narrative arc, they drive to the hoop as much as  the guy in the jersey.

Chicago knows these kinds of summers all too well. I want to  shirk the introduction from this kind of summer, to avoid its outstretched hand. I don’t want to know this kind of summer, its last name or what it likes sprinkled on top of its froyo. When the summer sun becomes oppressive, good food and entertainment provide a balm for  its rays.

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Half- Truths

There was a two-year span where my television diet consisted of Bravo and CNN. I’d gorge on Shahs of Sunsetand wash it down with Larry King Live. I balanced the guilt of watching Bravolebrities shatter champagne flutes and wallow in wealth with weighty news features on the 24-hour news network. These years were just a breath before the era of Too Much TV, when Shonda only produced two shows and Breaking Bad was in its infancy. The sky was falling. The Chicken Littles of the media industry held reality tv liable for our society’s eventual ruin. And I bought into that notion by puking up the remains of my Bravo diet, save for The Real Housewives of New York. It’d be uncool to break loose of The Countess, after all.Reality TV has been a thing since The Real World. Scratch that, since 1971’s An American Family, wherein filmmakers followed the daily lives of an affluent Santa Barbara family. With cameras rolling, the beaming family fractured under the weight of the father’s infidelity and fallout from the divorce.

But the genre reached its zenith during the Recession, attached to the low price tag of herding in unknowns and casting them into an assortment of situations, some contrived and others seemingly authentic. In that time, Kardashian became a part of the cultural lexicon, Flava Flavreemerged, and there were enough spouse swapping shows to make a polygamist sweat. In time, the economy recovered and the television industry along with it.

Enter Lifetime’s UnReal. Plopped into a sea of campy television movies and unauthorized biopics, the network’s bright spot is a fictionalized tale of the behind the scenes antics of a Bachelor-inspired reality show, Everlasting. The show comments on the dynamics of female relationships in the workplace, mental health, and the seedy practices of industry executives. UnReal is what television audiences deserve after years of peering into family disputes, rooting for alliances and bemoaning villains by water coolers. As the show’s fictional producers steer emotion and confession, UnReal attempts to muddy any remaining pretense amongst reality show viewers, casting away any notion that what you see is in fact, what you get.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever hit the clicker on The Real Housewives of New York. But, UnReal has cast a fascinating light on the manipulation that takes place behind the scenes and now I’m certainly more discerning of a Ramonacoaster when its in motion.

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Mom Jeans

Traditionally, sitcom moms aren’t in on the fun. Usually the attractive face in a mismatched pair, she plays the straight man to the zany husband. She somehow conveys both a smirk and a scowl in response to her children’s hijinks. She’s the anchor, present but unseen under a sea of oxford tops, ill-fitting jeans, and sensible shoes.

Black-ish premiered two autumns ago and brought with it the topical humor perfected by Norman Lear and a different take on the sitcom mom’s wardrobe. Bow Johnson (Tracee Ellis Ross) is a doctor mom of 4, with a contrarian husband and an enviable wardrobe that melds function with fashion.

Ross has long been a personal style mainstay in many a Pinterest board. Even Kerry Washington cites her as a guru. The Black-ish wardrobe department has managed to incorporate her sensibilities in the otherwise moth-ridden closet of the sitcom universe.

Bow, a surgeon spends a hefty portion of the series draped in scrubs. Outside of her work wear she rocks band tees, mixes prints, and accessorizes with doorknocker earrings. She leans into a wardrobe that would intimidate the functionality of Claire Dunphy, embarrass the frump of Roseanne, and further raise the eyebrow of Clair Huxtable.

“What I really wanted to bring to Bow is that she dressed hair and makeup wise, like an authentic woman. I don’t know a mother of four with a career and a husband that can spend a ton of time putting together looks and doing the whole thing.” –Tracee Ellis Ross [rwethereyetmom]

Bow’s wardrobe sometimes betrays the finger wagging right of the comedic center she rests in on Black-ish, but for me her style choices are a nod to Ross’ star making role on the UPN series Girlfriends. It reminds me of the comedic chops she displayed back then and the space left for Bow in the writer’s room to have as much fun as Dre, Diane, Jack, Junior, Pops, Ruby or Zoey.

Black-ish’ success has marked the resurgence of topical television comedies and made over the modern sitcom mom’s dress, now they just have to let her in on the fun.

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Some Other Beginning’s End

The Good Wife is over. 7 years, 156 episodes, umpteen affairs, and countless wigs.

The Good Wife started airing on Middle America’s favorite network during a personal low. My attached-at-the-hip college best friend did not watch or own a television, in fact she was one of THOSE people who looked down on the pastime. A very dark time, indeed.

I lost my television diet in the years we were closest and regained it in 2013 when I finally decided to commit to The Good Wife, in ways Peter Florrick never could. The series followed (past tense ugh) Alicia Florrick, a mother and wife to Peter Florrick, a corrupt State’s Attorney for Cook County. His imprisonment stemming from corruption charges thrusts her into the workforce and ultimately a competitive law firm where Alicia rises to name partner.

The Good Wife shirked black or white storytelling and the writer’s room rarely drafted a right or wrong side for Alicia to stand on. Nuance was this story’s greatest attribute and if you ask some finale viewers, its most frustrating weakness. The Good Wife upended the case of the week formula that audiences have grown accustomed to with well-crafted takes on current issues like NSA surveillance, gay rights in conflict with religious freedom and so on. This wasn’t a show that could play in the background as the salmon seared, this was a show to be engaged in.

via GIPHY

Things I’ll miss about The Good Wife:

The Will They or Won’t They The Good Wife team never shied away from having a straight-backed suitor for Alicia Florrick to make eyes with. But, where The Good Wife thrived was in its efforts to have Mrs. Florrick experience an intentional and fervent love despite motherhood, her position in Chicago and in full view of her philandering husband.

The Guest Stars Oliver Platt. Taye Diggs. Mamie Gummer. Vanessa Williams. Anika Noni Rose. Valerie Jarrett, the dad from Wonder Years. The Good Wife made expert use of its guest stars. Save the misplaced celebrity walkthroughs, each guest player pushed the story forward.

The Opening Credits The Good Wife crafters often let an entire scene unfold before the title card appeared and that device left my head spinning.

Diane Lockhart  & Kirk McVeigh Women of a certain age aren’t allowed love, especially an outwardly passionate love in film and television.  The pair married in season 5 and the thrill of watching two very sharp, secure characters support and challenge each other was something to behold.

Alicia Florrick Brought to life by Juliana Margulies, Alicia Florrick proved delightfully inscrutable in her hands. Alicia Florrick was the female answer to every cable television anti –hero audiences have had to root for or suffer through. In a single episode she could exercise ambition, be unflappable, sensual, and competent. She was king.

The BEST Episode.

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In A Teal Blue Dress

25 years ago, Anita Hill, a demure legal professor sat in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee seeping with pomp and testosterone to read her claims of sexual harassment against Clarence Thomas, the soon to be confirmed Supreme Court Justice. A few weekends ago, I watched Confirmation, an HBO film that casts a light on the lead up to and eventual fallout from the hearings.

In viewing the film, I marveled at Hill’s bravery as a Heartland raised, single, childless, black woman of a certain age and reflected on my own transition into feminism. As a kid, I imagined a feminist to be the girl who wanted to integrate the football team or the hairy-legged loudmouth who could hold court with the pugnacious guys in the back of a classroom.

I grew up in the age of Spice-Girl Power and Mia Hammanything-you-can-do-I can-do-better Nike branded empowerment. Still, the media I encountered as a kid failed to present nuanced representations of young women, specifically, who were equal to and/or independent of a male.

If I had to settle on one, I’d say my first feminist icon was Moesha Denise Mitchell. The lead character on UPN’s Moesha, she was intellectually curious, an ambitious student journalist and managed the independence of teendom with the most enviable a-line skirt game. But, even she buoyed between seeking the approval of a domineering father (#worstsitcomfatherever) and having her young life upended by every bushy tailed suitor that made it past the series’ casting director.

Media has grown bolder with depictions of feminism in praxis with heroines like Scandal’s Olivia Pope, The Good Wife’s Alicia Florrick, and even Girls’ Hannah Horvath. And we’re better for it. In the years since the hearing, Thomas sits mostly silent on the bench and Hill has been hoisted up as a feminist icon inspiring a surge in female lawmakers and sexual assault reportage.

Though I am but a baby feminist. Experience, books, tumblr pages, twitter timelines, women like Anita Hill and films like Confirmation have lent to my feminist- womanist leanings and I now know better than to reduce a brazen woman to unshaved legs.

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The Five Footer

Misogyny laden Twitter rants, tone-deaf claims and a Kardashian affiliation have left me disenchanted with Kanye West. Ten years ago, I would have made no objection to his rap gawd status. Aspirational lyrics, pristine visuals and the “can’t tell me nothing” bravado all primed my fandom. In his wee stardom, West was given platforms for the audiences to get to know the man behind “Through the Wire.” One of those platforms was MTV’s The Life & Rhyme’s of Kanye West,in which he mimed and performed the songs that influenced his artistry.

He started with “Check The Rhime” by A Tribe Called Quest. His enthused dedication to the track lasted about 15 seconds, but his reaction coupled with the audiences’ response led me to a LimeWire haul of any and everything ATCQ adjacent.

With grounded lyricism and funky production, ATCQ’s music became a mainstay on my MySpace page. I positioned Q-Tip as a forever crush. Phife Dawg’s lyrics shifted from clever lines to stick in an “About Me” section to lyrics essential to getting through the melancholia of high school.

Nearly two weeks ago, Phife Dawg passed away. As the news reached my Twitter feed, I was transported back to that early high school discovery. I remembered burning “Electric Relaxation” to a blank CD-R before I got my first IPod. I remembered the first time I proclaimed that I couldn’t date a guy if he didn’t appreciate ATCQ. I remembered how this group made hip-hop more legible for me. I remembered how cool I felt when I memorized the bars from “Bonita Applebum.” I remembered the warmth of the jazz influences on Q-Tip’s productions. I remembered the lyrics that helped color my world.

I hate to say this and he’ll love that I said this but, thank you Kanye.

My Favorite ATCQ Story

For Malik. Rest in Power.

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Wishes of 16 in ‘96

My older siblings landed on earth in the late 1970s and there’s a 10-year gap before you get to me. As a toddler I witnessed their comings and goings with a fanatical eye. I watched their hurried exits to part-time jobs at KFC, band practices and outings with their Cross Colours adorned friends. I waited anxiously for their returns from all the exclusive places and dens I imagined teens went.

Those years before they drifted away to college or the military birthed a want in me to reach that precipice of teendom before I could even mutter “present” in a kindergarten classroom. Many of my memories of the mid to late 90s are centered on that want.  The television and music I ingested gave me TV-14 and Parental Advisory stickered insights into what my siblings’ lives looked like beyond our home.  After I’d get my last squeeze of a hug from my never-not-interesting brothers and sisters, I’d turn on the boob tube to quell my questions.

Moesha

Clueless

Kenan & Kel

Sister, Sister

My Brother and Me

These shows helped me get a little bit closer to the world my siblings inhabited when the door closed behind them. Still, not one compared to stories they told me once they returned. Or the eavesdropping I had to resort to from time to time. Because questions need answers.

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Revisionist History

During my middle school years, I made a tradition of watching E! True Hollywood Story (THS) as I prepared for church service on Sundays. I’d learn of Tim Allen’s brushes with the law in the early 70’s, the Kennedy curse, and Mariska Hargitay’s Old Hollywood connections while primping.

It is on one of those Sunday mornings that I became acquainted with the story of Orenthal James Simpson. Prior to my viewing, I knew the OJ Simpson story as divisive in conversation and a punch-line in films. In the years since, Simpson has maintained a station in the pop culture lexicon due to a felony conviction, a proposed then later sacked confessional book, the rumored paternity of a sister within the Kardashian clan and now an FX series.

In American Crime Story The People v. O.J. Simpson, the actors offer measured performances and the showrunner pursues a thoughtful retelling instead of glamorous camp. What pleases me about historical drama is the use of costume and location as story and this series does both well. Before I implore you to chip away an hour or three of your time this week to watch ACS, here’s the trailer for this enticing series that sold me on a story told a million different ways before.

While, I now look on E! as a cesspool of sorts for reality TV, I miss those Sundays. Those Sundays I distractedly prepared for the day, drawn into the secret and forgotten histories of the series’ subjects. Had those moments never spurned my interest in what’s lauded as the trial of the century, I might be missing out on a well- crafted television event. Trust me, it’s good.

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St. Julia

Pretty Woman is the first film I formed memories around. It was released the year I was born. I remember the VHS resting against the television set just as clearly and fondly as I remember my favorite stuffed animal Chip (of Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers). My sister played the soundtrack so much, my brother was driven to hide the cassette. And I didn’t quite get Vivian’s occupation until I was about twelve. Hurray for blinders. It’s a nineties classic, save for the oversimplified sex politics. But, perhaps most importantly it erected Julia Roberts as the patron saint of nineties romantic comedies.

With Valentine’s Day just a few days away, it’s only appropriate that I rank Julia’s best turns as doe-eyed/ jilting/ charismatic romantic comedy protagonist.

5. Julianne Potter (My Best Friend’s Wedding)

4. Kiki Harrison (America’s Sweethearts)

3. Anna Scott (Notting Hill)

2. Maggie Carpenter (Runaway Bride)

1. Vivian Ward (Pretty Woman)

All of these titles are available on streaming services. So treat yourself this Valentine’s weekend with romantic comedy meet-cutes, false starts and grand declarations featuring St. Julia.

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It’s All Cyclical

I’m in the car, a radio hit from my childhood begins to play. I smirk as the warmth and familiarity of Brownstone’s “If You Love Me” washes over me. A vocal tainted by auto-tune interrupts. That hit has been sampled by newcomer Tory Lanez for present day consumption.  It’s jarring at first, but I also want more of it.

Brownstone “If You Love Me”

Tory Lanez “Say It”

I have an affinity for nineties-era music. That’s not far fetched, that’s the decade that shaped my tastes, musical and otherwise.  It’s a new experience for me to watch the resurrection of a song from a cassette jammed into a Walkman to a cloud on an iPhone, after having witnessed the full life of the original.  Each generation shares this experience, the pendulum has now swung to the kids of the nineties.

I made no complaints as Kanye crafted a career off of sampling seventies soul music, which annoyed my father to no end. So, I’m choosing to embrace the artists who sample and in turn honor the music I hold dear. Here are a few examples of nineties samples done well.

Ciara “Body Party” (sampled Ghost Town DJ’s “My Boo)

Goldlink “Spectrum” (sampled Missy Elliott “She’s a Bitch”)

Azealia Banks “Esta Noche” (sampled Montell Jordan’s “Get It On Tonite”)

Kendrick Lamer “Poetic Justice” (sampled Janet Jackson’s “Anytime Anyplace”)

Tink- Million (sampled Aaliyah’s “One In A Million”)

There’s a collective sigh of relief when a beloved song is handled well in sampling. When a jam from the past shepherds the jam of the day, the current artist garners respect, the former artist gets paid and the audience can vibe along. As long as the  integrity of the original music and artistry is kept in tact, I’m down for a nineties hit to have the life of Diana Ross’ “I’m Coming Out.“

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Mr. Reboot

We might have a nostalgia problem. The concept of embracing markers of a simpler time appeals to many, it’s why the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn thrives, it’s why vinyl records are sold in places as ubiquitous as a Barnes & Noble now, and why social media is something I value, but won’t let envelop me.

Television networks are looking to cash in on our appetite for nostalgia in the upcoming television season with reboots and remakes of cherished films and cult-followed television series. I get it, the past is cool.  We enjoy revising it, sometimes with upsetting results.

As a recovering couch potato, I have seen many a television trend come and go. My biggest heartbreaks being the rom-com trend of the 2014 season (RIP: Selfie, A to Z, Marry Me, and Manhattan Love Story) and the post Sex and the Citynetwork television not-quites of Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle.  The reboot trend worries me more than the others. Not only is it unambitious but it also leaves less of an opportunity for fresh original content to find an audience.  Here are a few examples of what we’ll see this year:

The Good: X-Files

Gillian Anderson’s work in The Fall (BBC) warms me to hearing the eerie X-Files theme again when its revival starts airing in late January.

The Meh: Fuller House

Even I couldn’t deal with the sticky-sweetness of Full Houseafter age 10 and I gleefully watch Dog with a Blog on the Disney Channel last weekend. It’ll be interesting to see how the clean-cut sitcom has matured with its audience, if at all.

The Rest Roots (1977) Gilmore girls (200-2007) Taken (2008) Duck Tales (1987-1990) The Notebook (2004) Bewitched (1964-1972) Cruel Intentions (1999) Uncle Buck (1989) Rush Hour (1998)

I’ve talked about the past a bunch in this post, but I can also predict the future. With this set of reboots and remakes, we should be prepared to be whelmed but not overly so.  The reboots of Dallas, Girl Meets World, and even Arrested Development couldn’t quite capture their former glory and networks should take that as an indicator of what’s to come. Make peace with the past and give a great original show a chance.

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Happy Birthday Lizzie!

I was a pudgy 5th grader obsessed with Moesha and Candies sneakers, when Lizzie McGuire premiered in January of 2001. Lizzie McGuire was the young grounded voice my friends and I needed at that stage in our adolescence.

At the time we were transitioning from our sheltered private elementary school experiences to the wide halls of a public middle school littered with pimply-faced kids with grubby vocabularies.

Throughout middle school, Lizzie, my friends and I mined through unrequited puppy love, frenemies, rambunctious younger siblings and nightmare teachers. In just sixty-five episodes, Lizzie became our style guru and guide on how to face adversity with pep in our step. Save for the saccharine peculiarities that exist within a ‘mouse ears’ show, Lizzie was an apt companion in those days.

So, Happy 15th Birthday, Lizzie McGuire!