I saw I'm Through With White Girls last night, and liked it a whole lot. And I had absurdly high expectations, too; so for me to say that means something, since whenever I head into an encounter with art possessing absurdly high expectations, I usually come away disappointed. Not this time.
I'd say this is easily the purest, most self-consciously post-soul film I've ever seen (I would say "ever made" instead of "ever seen," but obviously there could be another one out there). Actually, I'd have to put Afro-Punk right up there with it, except that the latter is a documentary, and this is an absolutely delightful romantic comedy.
It's got all the PSA aspects one could want: non-traditional representations of blackness in conflict with---and in connection with---traditional representations of blackness; social class issues; the way cultural blackness plays out among white characters, particularly white men (and the great thing about it is that these black-culture-influenced white characters never descend into caricature, as do, sadly, the working class black characters); the tension between stereotypical black behaviors and individuality (and that tension plays out on both white and black cultural planes, of course); bi-raciality and the question of blackness (not only is the female lead bi-racial, she's not even a native of the United States). Oh, there's all sorts of great, symbolic, contextual stuff in the mix.
But the wonderful thing is that the film stands on its own as a plot-driven romantic comedy that skillfully moves along the boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-regains-girl, happy-ending format. (I get impatient, quite frankly, with people who get impatient with the romantic comedy format---to me, that just means [1] that person just doesn't like romantic comedies---because the format is what it is, or [2] that person doesn't realize that the romantic comedy form is just another form, and it's what you do with it, how funny it is, how the pacing works, what it tells you, culturally, about the world the characters inhabit, that informs how well or poorly one deals with that form.) In any case, I thought it was a successful film on the PSA level, for sure, but also on the pure filmic level, as well.
I liked, as well, the persistent references to Paul Beatty's novel The White Boy Shuffle: [1] there is a moment in the film when the specific words "the white boy shuffle" come out of the male lead's mouth; [2] when the female lead is reading from her novel at a bookstore, you can jusssst barely hear her describe HER male lead as being named "Gunnar," echoing Beatty's hero's first name; and [3] one of the running gags throughout the film is that Jay Brooks can't dance!---yet another Gunnar-esquire gesture. In addition, there's an explicit reference to a memorable scene in Spike Lee's "She's Gotta Have It" that also becomes a running gag. Like I said, the film sure seemed, in more ways than one, a self-conscious post-soul aesthetic document, even if they don't use that term on their website.
Very, very enjoyable film. The only shame is that it didn't get the theatrical release it deserved. I wish Will Smith had the courage to star in something like this. I thought Anthony Montgomery was great, but with Smith it would have had the eyeballs on it that the film deserved. Woulda had to change that unfortunate title, though, and that would have been all to the good; it's the only thing I didn't like about the movie.
