The tension between uncovering hidden aspects of film history and respecting the lives of those contained within it form the undergirding conflict of Cheryl Dunye’s The Watermelon Woman, a film of such multitudinous interests and storytelling pursuits that it replicates the ecstasy of newfound romance. The film’s crux, beyond the blossoming lesbian relationship at its core, is Dunye’s aligning of hidden historiographies with the hassle of dating—of searching for something (or someone) that, at the surface, cannot be immediately seen with the naked eye.
Dunye establishes the problem of incomplete histories as Cheryl (Dunye) and Tamara (Valarie Walker) debate the value of, as Tamara puts it, watching “mammy shit from the ’30s.” They do so from behind the counter of a Philadelphia video store, where their employ is less driven by cinephilia—though Cheryl clearly knows her shit—than economic necessity. Unlike Kevin Smith’s Clerks,...
Dunye establishes the problem of incomplete histories as Cheryl (Dunye) and Tamara (Valarie Walker) debate the value of, as Tamara puts it, watching “mammy shit from the ’30s.” They do so from behind the counter of a Philadelphia video store, where their employ is less driven by cinephilia—though Cheryl clearly knows her shit—than economic necessity. Unlike Kevin Smith’s Clerks,...
- 7/14/2023
- by Clayton Dillard
- Slant Magazine
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