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How to L0ve

How to L0ve (2021)

Created, starring and written by: Robert Cunningham

We love stories about tennis. It’s cinematic. There’s constant motion and action, brimming with sexual tension. We see this most recently in the film Challengers, which grossed nearly $100 million in worldwide box office receipts. 

Yet we never focus on the people who make the game possible: ball people. These people support players by fetching and giving the ball to the players, saving us all time. Like the more often represented “towel boys” in other sports, it’s unglamorous, almost invisible labor. 

In How to L0ve, Robert Cunningham puts a spotlight on these workers: young, diverse teens who are super-fans of the sport. They know all the players, not just the Williams sisters, and aspire to one day catch balls at the U.S. Open. In the pilot episode, we learn such an opportunity has emerged! The friends must compete with each other for a spot. 

Funded by pop star Halsey’s Black Creators Funding Initiative, How to L0ve wrings all the comedy out of this somewhat ridiculous job. It should come as no surprise that a show about “ball people” is full of sexual humor, of the sort rarely open to queer/people of color in mainstream TV comedies. 

In one episode, the ball players write sexy love notes like “DTF” (Down To Fuck) on the balls to seduce a player they’re crushing on. But the player thinks his sparring partner wrote it, and they get together never knowing the ball people were flirting with him. A testament to their invisibility!

In the episode, “mASSterclASS” the ball people take turns photographing their butts in the style of Nikki Minaj’s “Anaconda” cover. “Everyone has an ass, so everyone should love ass,” Xia (Felicia Oduh) says. “Eat or be eaten,” LT (Robert Cunningham) retorts in a nod to the Black/queer slang “eat” or do very well, showing how great you look or perform. (“LT” stands for “Left Testicle,” a nickname Robert’s character only partially consents to). 

It’s not all fun and games. How to L0ve also lightly touches on serious issues. In the third episode “My Netta,” Xia tries to find kinship with V.V. Voorhies (Allie Woodson)--a Black female player ranked 169th in the world. The player is feeling a lot of pressure to perform. 

“Not having to work twice as hard to get half of what they get,” Xia says, empathically. It’s a phrase many Black people use to discuss the increased expectations racism puts on us. 

“This isn’t about race. This is about Saved by the Bell.”

“What?”

“You know the show, Saved by the Bell? You know the Black girl in that show? She’s my cousin, Lark Voorhees. No matter what I achieve or how good I am at tennis, I’ll always be second to Lark!”

Robert’s smart writing is always looking for the joke, keeping the tone light. This is, after all, a show about people who catch calls for a living, who are both the closest and farthest from sports fame. 

Watch How to L0ve on OTV!

Black Girl Magic

If I Was Your Girl

Arabica

Arabica (2020)

Created, starring and directed by: Sohib Boundaoui

Arabica is a mockumentary thriller about the surveillance of Bridgeview, a largely Arab, Muslim and specifically Palestinian community outside of Chicago. Created by Sohib Boundaoui, who also stars as a filmmaker trying to document this phenomenon, the series deftly blends reality and drama, inspiring audiences to question what they are seeing just like the residents in his community. 

“There were a lot of happy accidents.” Sohib said. “I wanted it to feel like this is just like a very slight deviation from my real life. This could have actually happened to me. This could have been real conversation. This could have all been actually happening in the community.”

There are clear artistic and political reasons Sohib told the story in this way. Bridgeview has actually been surveilled by the FBI for decades, as documented by his sister in The Feeling of Being Watched. Using handheld cameras and putting professional actors alongside real people, Sohib helps us feel what it is like for our everyday life to be of interest to the government. 

Because of this cinema verité style, narrative is deceptively simple. In fact, across eight episodes and nearly 90 minutes of story, the feature-length series is a collage or kaleidoscope. We see different parts of the community over the course of a very short time period. This condensed period of time feels more expansive because a mysterious white van continues to appear, bringing an air of suspense. We fear who is in the van and what they might do much more than we fear any of the people in the community. In a media climate where Arabs, Muslims, and particularly Palestinians are disproportionately and inaccurately represented and criminals and terrorists, this is a smart artistic choice. 

In fact, most of the Bridgeview residents are very loving and ordinary, concerned with many of the same issues of other communities: the safety of their families, the survival of their local businesses, their hopes and dreams for the future. Not everyone is perfect, we see indications that one resident might be dealing cannabis, and another has racist feelings toward a Black Muslim community member, but these details only drive home the point that Bridgeview residents are nothing special: a white Christian suburb would have the same people but not be targeted as potential criminals. 

Many residents are aware of this criminalization, and, in the show, refuse to talk to Sohib’s character on camera for fear of their safety. In first episode, Ismael says he doesn’t want to “snitch:” “I’m not talking about the cops on camera…I’m not talking about the FBI”

But later, in a very “meta” twist, Sohib tells Ismael that he will make the documentary into a narrative series, allowing him to “act” instead of snitch. 

Ismael is now fully invested in telling the truth: “They’re watching us…Try making us paranoid so we back off.”

This narrative comes to a head in the final episode, in ways that interestingly resists many of the violent, divisive endings for police dramas on television. 

In Arabica, while living their everyday lives, many residents of Bridgeview try to protect and support each other, mostly in ways that are quite creative and loving: like hosting community crafting events or producing music albums. The heart of the narrative appears to be a regular evening at a barbershop, often a place for honest community conversations and information sharing. 

“The narrative [that we are victims] is important in certain areas…but we are also heroes in some of our stories. We’re also lovers, and we’re also poets. I think there’s so many facets to our community, and while being a victim of certain things and certain systems is a part of our story. It is not the only story,” Sohib told me. 

Watch Arabica on OTV!