Black Unmagic

Back in July, I asked if my wife & I are the only two white people to watch two Tyler Perry movies all the way through. Maybe we’re easily entertained, but we enjoyed the flicks: there was a sorta non-Hollywood-ness about them (even if most of the male leads were model-types), an earnestness that doesn’t come off as laughable (which is pretty rare nowadays). Sure, many of the characters are devoutly Christian, but their faith doesn’t lead to miracles and perfect solutions to all problems. Oh, and Madea and her brother Joe are hysterical, allowing Perry managed to keep up the Flip Wilson tradition of black men playing drag and the more recent Eddie Murphy tradition of playing multiple characters in the same scene.

Nobody commented on my post (sigh), but the release of Perry’s third movie has mooted the question; it doesn’t matter if any white people see his movies, because there are a ton of black people who have made him Hollywood gold. Why Did I Get Married? took in almost $22 million in its opening weekend, doubling up the sales from George Clooney’s well-reviewed new movie about, um, the evils of Monsanto (I think).

My favorite part of the Perry story is how he “came out of nowhere.” Salon ran an article that includes a great anecdote about what happened when Perry’s agent approached a Hollywood studio. No one had any idea who Perry was, despite his stage success among black audiences:

What shocked Hollywood insiders [after Diary of a Mad Black Woman] was how Perry seemed to come out of nowhere. In the wake of the “Diary” success, the Hollywood trade paper Variety wrote a story that led off, “Tyler who?” [Lions Gate studio head of production Michael Paseornek] had been asking himself the same question a year before, after he received a letter from Perry’s agent, talking about a guy who wrote plays for African-American audiences on the “chitlin circuit,” a name that goes back to Jim Crow days, when African-Americans were banned from mainstream auditoriums. Nowadays, Perry’s plays regularly sell out major venues such as New York’s Beacon Theater and the Kodak Theatre in Los Angeles, where the Oscars are held, and in the last eight years, they’ve grossed more than $100 million through ticket sales and DVDs of live performances sold through his Web site.

“It was an astronomical number for someone I’d never heard of,” Paseornek recalls, “so I called around to other people in showbiz, and they hadn’t heard of him either.”

But those people were white. Paseornek got his first insight into the Perry phenomenon when he walked down the hall to the Lions Gate inventory control department, to talk to an African-American employee named Kenya Watson. “She said, ‘Sure, I’ve heard of Tyler Perry,'” he recalls. “‘I own all his DVDs. Whenever we have a cookout, we put one on.'”

In yesterday’s Washington Post, Eugene Robinson has a nice opinion piece about the Perry phenomenon, and how refreshing it is to see something other than the “magic negro,” whose role is to explain life to white people.

You know me: I may love me some failure, but I also love success that flies under the mainstream radar.

More cold war relics

In keeping with the previous post on Norman Mailer’s gnostic wackiness, I should probably also relegate Ben Stein to “relic of the cold war” status, but he seems to have adjusted pretty well to the modern age, and offers some pretty good life & investment advice in his most recent column in the NYTimes:

GET A BIG DOG And have that dog sleep in your bed with you. Dogs know nothing of mortality, and they share that peace with you.

INVEST FOR THE LONG HAUL If you are a smart long-term investor, do not pay any attention to short-term developments. They are often reported by people whose motivation may be to scare you (screaming about the subprime “crisis”) or to make you giddily greedy (screaming about that one certain stock you should buy to retire rich).

On the other hand, Terry Eagleton comes off as a Marxist douchebag.

The Phantom Carrier

Monday morning, I headed over to the conference center to make sure our boxes of magazines had arrived. They hadn’t. Since the conference was set to begin on Tuesday, I thought it would be a good time to visit the show’s courier service to find out where our 34 boxes of magazines were.

I was told that half of them, the boxes we shipped directly from our office, were either at “the warehouse” or on their way to the show floor. But they couldn’t be delivered to our booth unless we paid the indeterminate handling fee.

The courier rep had no answer about the 17 boxes of September issues that the printer shipped directly to the show. Oh, he had information on the printer’s name, and the shipper, but the location of the boxes wasn’t so clear. “They may have been returned to customs,” I was told. “You probably should’ve used the official shipper for the conference and not a phantom carrier.”

“A phantom carrier? You mean, UPS is a phantom carrier?”

He gave me a wan smile. By this morning, the boxes from our office (sent via phantom carrier FedEx) had arrived, but the September issues hadn’t. I was livid and decided to put it straight to the rep: “Is there some amount of money that you need to help locate and deliver our boxes?”

Wan smile again: “No, I’m afraid it’s out of our hands.”

I was pissed, and returned to our booth. Over the course of the day, I discovered

  1. two other magazines — one U.S., one UK — also never received their shipments,
  2. an exhibitor from Germany learned that their package was damaged and had to be destroyed, but only learned this after they called to find out where their boxes were,
  3. an exhibitor from the U.S. never received a box because it had mints inside, and Customs was sending it back, and
  4. another U.S. exhibitor’s 10′ booth shipment (two boxes) showed up a day early to the conference, so it was sent back to customs and one of the boxes was re-routed to Lagos, Nigeria.

There are a bunch of ticked-off exhibitors, including one who arranged to have food service, only to discover that this didn’t include forks, knives, or napkins, for which there would be a surchage.

So, in general, we’re a surly lot. The locals are scamming away, the conference hall layout is insane, and the distance of the center from the city means that we have to travel by metro with Italians during rush hour.

The most depressing job ever

One of the features in the October ish of my magazine is an interview with Dr. Robert Maguire, chief of operations for Wyeth’s R&D efforts. I finished laying out the section this morning, because I was waiting for the company to send over Dr. Maguire’s bio.

For any of you who think your job is a downer, Dr. Maguire’s first career should shut you up. Prior to working in the pharma industry, he was trained as a pediatric oncologist.

Try to imagine your spouse/partner working in that field, and then try to imagine asking, “How was work today?”

Radio Silence

I know it sounds like I’m always under a huge pile of work, dear readers, but this time I mean it. Last week’s conference overrode my other responsibilities, and now I have to finish a 156-page issue by Friday morning, so I can catch my flight to Milan in the afternoon to cover the CPhI/ICSE conference.

Yesterday, I finally believed that this was doable. Shortly after that, I got pasted with a cold.

Upshot: you likely won’t see any posts here till Friday morning’s Unrequired reading. Oh, and you’ll probably get to see a bunch of neat photos from Milan & environs next week.