Daughters of the Dust and KJM3: Dispatches from a Culturalpreneur - Part 2

We didn't realize, however, how much infrastructure was needed and the fact that we, as a community didn't have it. Except for the top cities in the top media markets like the East Coast corridor from Boston to DC, there were no Black publicist that knew anything about film or the people involved or the language of the trade. There were certainly no Black owned daily newspapers, or competent weeklies for that matter, that were relied on by any significant audience of Black people that we were targeting. Even in NYC, we had to rely on general market dailies like the NYT, Daily News and the notorious NY Post to get the word out about the insurrection. We were naive, but enthusiastic about the cultural momentum that we seemed to be part of: small films getting big attention, the Spike Lee thing, the Hudlin Brothers, we were absolutely part of a Zeitgeist and everything we did or said became a trademark or service mark: we had a new fangled "marketing system", that we used to stir up the natives called "SMM", or "Surgical Marketing Model"; we created new fangled pithy sayings and slogans as a way of overcoming, in one quick slash of the pen, some deep seeded structural and psychological deficiencies that plagued our tribe. And for the most part, it worked to contribute to the success of Daughters, and it operated to keep us climbing the mountains of tribal competitiveness. "We Can Do This Thing," was a rallying cry and war chant designed to ward off the bogeyman of reality, for a time.

Moi, Kathryn, Michelle, Mark

The deal to do Daughters was our first project. We had all screened the film together at the Anthology Archives on Second Avenue and Second Street, a bastion of "out" films and other visual arts and a popular screening venue for all of the indie distributors in town. We were pretty excited about being there as a "company"'. We weren't just bystanders or the cinephiles that usually weaseled their way into these industry screenings. We were "industry". I can remember a wistful feeling of pride and joy in the quality of the accomplishment that was Daughters. It had won a Best Cinematography Award at Sundance and the lush settings, the elegant costumes and the lyrical quality of the camera work, certainly demonstrated why. You didn't see many films, independent films, that stood out like this. You could screen 200 films and not see one with this level of visual artistry, and a story that made you cry. It made you wistful and it made you, in the end, proud. It was the story of African Americans making a choice about how they wanted to live their future. They were contemplating in a setting that was theirs, on a time frame that was theirs. It was idyllic, it was the beautiful in us. We knew immediately this film was a hit. We could barely contain ourselves when we left the screening room. This had to be our debut project.

The screening had been arranged by the distributor, Kino International. Michelle had been talking to Julie for sometime about the film and when the deal was done with Kino, she knew Julie was not happy about Kino's distribution plans. Apparently, Kino was having a hard time booking the film at some of the premium arthouse screens. In particular, the Film Forum in New York City. In my mind, this was not surprising. White folks, by and large, particularly those in the boutique cinema world, didn't understand the significance of the images, the poignancy of the story, the existence of a “Cultural Grassroots”, and how famished it was for the psychic nourishment that comes with seeing shimmers of what your authentic self might look like, on the big screen of life. That's what movies and culture are all about, telling your story in bigger than life ways so as to anchor your identity to a true representation of who you want to be, to the center of social consciousness. Daughters had won a significant production award from the most prestigious film festival in the country, but sat on Julie's shelf for almost two years. When Don Krim of Kino stepped in, it was almost as a favor to someone that he knew that knew Julie or Joy Huckaby or both. Don knew the film was a worthy film, he just didn't know who would value it or how to get them to see the film.

Don Krim was a stand up guy who ran a solid company with a good reputation and good people working for him, Jessica and Gary, his two main employees. Don himself had film pedigree. His uncle or cousin was Arthur Krim, a co-founder of United Artists, and he attended Columbia University Law School. Don was a player in the steady-money-is-plenty-money world of non-theatrical distribution. Colleges and universities and media centers were the market for all of the product coming from a nontheatrical distributor. Occasionally, they would get a film that would open one of the subsidized arthouses that existed largely in the biggest cities in small towns all around the country, and naturally, in all the big cities like New York and Los Angeles. The "Film Forum", "Coolidge Corner", "The Detroit Institute" etc. These were small venues for small films. It was not the venue., in the first instance, that a film as powerful as Daughters deserved. After we all saw the film at Anthology, the next day we met and discussed the film. We were all very excited and that excitement and the little bit of knowledge that we each had, was enough to really sup us up. We felt like we knew the answers to Don and Julie's question: how do we get people to discover this great film?

In actuality, we did have the answer: our collective intuition was the answer. Between the four of us, we had the answer to many of the questions that would come up over the next six years. Except, for the one big important question: where is the money coming from? Our individual experiences and training was a well balanced mix of arts administration, non-theatrical film marketing, media sales and contracts. And there was plenty of "insight" and so-called connections to go around but not one road led to money and back to KJM3.

It was a real pleasure working with Don Krim and his crew, Gary and Jessica. They were laid back, confident professionals, knowledgeable and a bit off-beat. They admittedly knew nothing about the Black market, and were glad to have us around. They treated our knowledge and ideas with respect and deference, but were masters at not reaching beyond their own capacity. You were not going to talk Don into anything his business instinct was against. He had good instincts. And his people skills were dry, straight forward in a passive kind of way. Don carefully managed relations with mercurial filmmakers that were Julie and A.J., and four very different personalities in KJM3. Kathy and Michelle were in charge of the day-to-day relationship; they spent a lot of time working with Jessica and Gary shipping prints, setting up press and publicity in each city, etc. Mark and I were doing various and sundry things to help get the word out. Mark's connection to the NBC morning host, Bryant Gumble, was big; my working of a clergy network for group sales and announcements was significant. Each of us found ourselves doing a little of everything, with all of us digging deep into our social networks in order to penetrate as broadly as we could into the Black grapevine. It really was a Zeitgeist at work: this film, this collection of activist entrepreneurs, in this City at this time. There wasn't a city in the country that the film needed to be in that we didn't know someone who in some way or another was connected to the Cultural Grassroots grapevine.

Just like that, we were in business. Well, it wasn’t just like that. We spent a considerable about of hours drawing up a marketing and distribution plan for Kino. We didn’t know for sure what Kino’s capabilities were, and we were really concerned about overplaying our hand. We focused on what we knew best first: NYC. We didn’t know enough about the business to put together a plan for a 3-5 city rollout. Sure, we knew something about publicity, marketing, and we had knowledge of many of the bigger city film programs and institutes through Michelle and Kathy’s work. But this was our first experience with what was clearly a hit film. Even so, we did maintain our composure, and our focus when finally meeting with Don and his crew. I remember the meeting being casual as we all sat around the conference table. I kind of remember saying something that I thought lawyers were suppose to say, but Michelle did most of the talking with help from Mark, who had a nice, low-key corporate persona, the kind of disposition that seemed appropriate for a Black guy in the very White corporate world.

Without much fanfare, the meeting was over and we had a deal. Don drew up a contract and faxed it over to our temporary office the next day. Within a few days, we were leaving Don’s office over near Hell’s Kitchen with a check in hand for the first installment of our retainer fee. We were in business. These were the best moments during my time with KJM3, when things were going well. Kathy was such a genuine and passionate person who had seen it all and probably done some more, but who had the enthusiasm of a little kid, and when things were going our way, she really bubbled. The kind of youthful optimism and wide-open belief that makes some parents get three jobs. I didn’t want to see her disappointed. I felt responsible for her happiness but not just her happiness, it was everyone’s happiness. It was the beautiful sista that I met at the Black film screenings at the Adam Clayton Powell state office building with the natural hair, luscious lips and juicy butt, who had come to NYU’s film school feeling like an African princess, only to have her choices ridiculed by the circumstances of wealth, and race, and the feeling of being on your own, without a Tribe, without a place. It was for the many regal sistas, my mom, that were being forced to humble the selves that they knew in order to get a job taking orders from some lesser being who meant you no good, who was in fact intimidated by your unwillingness to conform.

(final installment, shortly).