The Pursuit of Happyness

Holidays are the best time for feel good movies. I went to see The Pursuit of Happyness, featuring none other than Will Smith. The movie is based on the real life of Chris Gardner, a black entrepreneur who was homeless and struggling during the early 1980s (Reagonomics era). Gardner also has a memoir, titled the same, that I managed to browse at the big bookstore that sells expensive coffee. I did leave the theater feeling like I'd just read some thing from Dale Carnegie or Napoleon Hill's Think and Grow Rich. Desire and faith is the basis of all success. Positive thinking and hard work will get you to the top. Such motivational pearls seem to uphold the movie's plot, as Will Smith chases his dreams of wealth in a San Francisco stockbroker internship program. Well, there's more to it---he has failed miserably at selling bone-density reading machines, his wife leaves him and their five year old son, he runs out of money and is forced to live in a public bathroom and homeless shelters. He does all this while banking on the internship's promise of a job---if he out-performs nineteen other interns. Thus, the pursuit of happiness begins---literally. During much of the movie Smith is seen running, running to fetch one of his stolen bone machines, high-tailing when he bolts from a taxi without paying, racing time to reach a shelter, and so on and on. The metaphor is clear.

The Pursuit of Happyness (happiness is spelled this way on a sign near his son's day care center) was a decent feel good movie. But I tend to look for more cinematically. I wished the directors had delved more into the here and now of Chris Gardner and less of the fairytale rags to riches drama. The 1980s that I know of for black folk under Reagan was not so pleasant. In the movie, the Reagonomics trickle down theory works for Gardner. He makes it big. But that's the problem with the pursuit of wealth under capitalism---only a few ever make it. And what about the persistent color-line in America? We do not see or feel the burden of race in this Horatio Alger plot and that fits so well with the trickle down economic theory. You work hard enough and success is yours. I do believe this, however, don't try and pull the wool over my eyes. America is not color-blind.

Still, the movie was worth seeing. I felt good about getting up the next morning and approaching the world---but with a little more realism.

The Godfather......

I promised myself to write something about James Brown---the Godfather of Soul. Brown died on Christmas morning after a brief stay in an Atlanta, Georgia hospital. It was so sudden.

Everyone has a JB story. Growing up in upstate New York, I used to watch Brown on television doing the mashed potatoes--jump back alligator, see you later, I feel good, please, please, please. My friend Peachy (his real name was James and he looked a bit like Brown) believed he could dance like Brown and slid across the pavement in Liberation Park where we played. The boldest of Brown's hits, "Say It Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud" opened up a whole new vision for black people. From the windows of apartments and storefronts America's black communities, this 1968 black anthem resonated at a time when the Civil Rights and Black Power movements were waning. The song, in fact, became synonymous with black power nostalgia and a generation of struggle.

The Godfather stayed on the charts into the 70s with hits like Sex Machine, Hot Pants, Get on the Good Foot, The Payback, Get Offa That Thing. These were all great hits, though not as revolutionary as Say It Loud. Funk music came with James Brown. His band could lay down some foot-stomping beats behind such stirring lyrics as

We've got to get together and buy some land
Raise our food just like the man
Save our money, do like the mob
Put up your factory and own the job
We've got to get over, before we go under
(The Funky President, 1975)

In life he received props from several generations of fans. Those like me who grew up listening to him on radio and vinyl 45s have his hits engraved in our consciousness. Those of the Hip-Hop generation have known him mainly through his music sampled into their CDs and mp3 players.

Harlem paid tribute to the Godfather three days after his funeral. Rev. Al Sharpton, who Brown referred to as his son, arranged for the body to lie in repose at the Apollo Theater. A white carriage made the trip down 125th Street, trailed by several generations of fans. Brown's legacy is well deserved.

Zimbabwe (Live In Concert 1980)

Recently, I listened to Marley's revolutionary song about Zimbabwe and the world African struggle. I remember listening to this in my 1976 Vega in the early eighties. What memories!