The watermelon woman

There are themes and issues in this film that are obvious, but well defined and used - lesbianism, racism, interracial relationships.... and the ups and downs of working in a video rental shop. All that aside, I have to say that, for me "The Watermelon Woman" is all about obsession. Ah - obsession! The obsession in this case is our leading lady's obsession with a marginal black actress in black & white movies of days long gone by, credited in the films on as "The Watermelon Woman." Who was she... what was her real name... why was she someone to obsess upon? Our lovely leading lesbian begins a journey of body and mind to find the truth of the Watermelon Woman and her life. I tell you obsession is a wondrous thing... when you find something (or, if you're me, many things) to obsess on, your life will be filed with the richness of discovery.. and you'll never be a boring party guest. So, have a look at "The Watermelon Woman," who knows you may just find yourself obsessed. Super sweet.

When we first see clips of old film actor Fae Richards, the person the protagonist (Cheryl Dunye) is researching, it's immediately apparent that she's fictional, and I initially thought it was an unfortunate choice. But as it played out, it hit me: what does it say when a black lesbian director invents this person, and the researcher has a hard time finding information on her? Probably that there simply was not adequate representation, and that history is usually whitewashed. At the end of the credits, the line "Sometimes you have to create your own history" gave me goosebumps. Along the way there are things on the surface that will undoubtedly draw reactions - the wildly uneven acting and indie production value, and a sex scene that seemed restrained and erotic to me but which unfortunately drew the ire of conservatives in Congress. Aside from the representation the film gives us, it's filled with things that critique the world this woman lives in. There's the obvious barb in the fictional actor being dubbed "Watermelon Woman" and being famous for her role in "Plantation Memories." Another is the librarian explaining to her that she should check the "black reference" files for the old film star, and the silent little look she exchanges with her friend. There's also the white film professor explaining how modern black scholars have it wrong relative to the offensiveness of the "mammy" figure, which was brilliant. It comes within the community too; when her friend frowns upon the relationship she's having with a white woman, she says it's nobody's business who she's having sex with. Amen. Despite the choppiness of a few scenes which almost seem like parodies of themselves, I genuinely enjoyed this film. It's creative, empowering, and well-paced in its 85 minutes. There's also something pretty powerful about the message at its center.

Really great movie loved the documentary style seaming with the actual film fun characters great transitions inbetween shots and enjoyed how random some of the cuts or scene transitions are

I liked how The Watermelon Woman blends a fictional narrative with real historical questions. Cheryl Dunye's storytelling is both creative and personal, making for a film that feels intimate and reflective. The indie production value is noticeable, and it's not a movie that will wow you with visuals, but its heart and purpose shine through. A solid film that's definitely worth checking out if you're into indie or queer cinema. The film's style is a bit unconventional, and it's not always the smoothest ride, but it's an important piece of cinema that sheds light on stories we don't often hear. It may not be for everyone, but I found it thought-provoking and original.

'The Watermelon Woman (1996)' is the first film to be directed by a Black lesbian filmmaker, which is hard to believe considering it came out in the late 90s. Blurring the line between fact and fiction, the feature alternates between footage supposedly shot for a documentary director Cheryl Dunye is shooting about the eponymous old Hollywood actor and narrative segments filmed with more traditional methods. The on-screen story seems to replicate the real-life story, presenting as a fictionalised version of events that must have happened prior to/ happened during production, but it's actually all carefully crafted to have this effect. That's because the entirety of the affair is fiction, an experiment designed to seem like a genuine documentary that pulls its maker into its orbit and reflects their personal journey in traditional interludes. The documentary we see is being made by Cheryl Dunye the character, but not by Cheryl Dunye the filmmaker. I already knew this going in, but I can imagine it being mind-blowing to anyone who isn't aware. That's because each and every documentary segment is crafted with such authenticity, such perfect imperfectness, such true-to-life inexperience that it feels wholly believable. Every single person who is interviewed is acting, whether they know it or not (perhaps the street interviews are real; I can't tell), and they turn in almost accidentally masterful performances. I mean, this is how you work with an amateur cast; use their rawness to your advantage, craft situations in which it's beneficial for them not to be professional and flawless and recognisable. Perhaps the acting in the definite fiction segments could have been improved from time to time, but even the occasional flubbed line or strained delivery in these sections reinforces the idea that they're being created by a bunch of the director's friends as experimental companion pieces to the documentary. The whole feature feels like a personal essay from its director, something speaking directly to you as you watch it, and it's really impressive that it feels this genuine and homemade when it's actually a meticulously crafted affair. It deals with themes of race and sexuality and representation, exploring interracial relationships (and the stigmas and stereotypes that come with them), the evolving role of women - in particular, Black women - in Hollywood (and how certain stereotypes can be important stepping stones despite being harmful overall), LGBTQIA+ filmmaking and socialising, and the concept that you have to be the change you want to see. The underlying thesis seems to be that if you want to see something represented on screen, you should make something that represents it on screen. That's exactly what Dunye has done, putting what are clearly very important aspects of her identity on display in a way that feels both vulnerable and powerful all at once. Empowerment seems to be the name of the game here, and the fantasy of the filmmaker being able to locate an idol who was living (something close to) her reality all those years earlier isn't used as a way to remind us that these things aren't as common as they should be, but instead to inspire us that one day we might be able to find real Watermelon Women in our own media. Movies like this pave the way in making that possible; the next Cheryl Dunye won't be looking at problematic Hollywood pictures to see themselves reflected in film, they'll be looking at her. This is one of those movies that it just isn't especially helpful to rate. It isn't the most exciting or engaging in-the-moment experience, but it's an incredibly rewarding one in retrospect. The more I think about it, the more I like it. It's occasionally funny, occasionally romantic, and consistently so real that it's hard to believe it's not (even if some elements of reality definitely seep into it). It's an important indie film that impresses thematically, formally and representationally, a vibrant and powerful effort that reminds you how unique and potent and inspiring movies can be. It's the kind of thing that makes you want to just grab a camera and make something. It's pretty great.