It’s On. Magic Mike XXL starts production.
For many years, Black superheroes have been dismissed as sidekicks, imitators of established white heroes, or are accused of having no role outside of blaxploitation film contexts. Yet the importance of a Storm, Luke Cage, Black Panther, or Jon Stewart as Green Lantern or Miles Morales as Spiderman cannot be understated. Their entry into comic books also served as entry to the hearts and imaginations of black children, confirming that they too can be superheroes and could one day save the world.
For a list of Black Superheroes see here
Excerpt from the new issue: Tracy Wan on Boyhood:
"It’s a big element, isn’t it, of our medium?" Linklater asks, in an interview with Sight & Sound. “The manipulation of time, the perception of time, the control of time.” And if cinema is the art of time, he is a master of the art—from his fictional histories emerge a truth beyond the medium, that of experiencing life’s passing itself. If the Before trilogy is a microcosmic representation of his obsession (three days, 18 years apart), we can only look at Boyhood as the Linklater macrocosm: 12 years, in three hours. It is filled with what he does best—documentations of life in suburbia, streams of consciousness, revelations of personal philosophies.
Here, what he captures is not the story of a boy growing up, but boyhood as identity: the edification of one small American dream. We learn about Mason as he learns about himself—in time. He, unsurprisingly, is just as obsessed with the concept—we watch Mason pick up photography as a hobby, and then as a major. There is no pretension: his photographs aren’t revelatory, just a product of his attention. And the same can be said for Boyhood. Its smallness is its charm. At ten, Mason asks his Dad: “There’s no such thing as real magic in the world, right?” And then, at nineteen, watching the sun duck behind canyons in the Big Bend, we see that he gets it. The magic is the world. It is here now, and now, and now.”