strategic invisibility & the cost of being seen

I watched Sinners in 70MM IMAX at the director’s recommendation, and it did not disappoint.

I love that feeling in the air when an original blockbuster film is upon us, and for a moment, the entire world is bitten with intense curiosity. We sell out the theaters and hop on our soapboxes, ready to tell the world how this work of art made us feel. Bonus points when it’s a holiday weekend and it becomes a core part of your plans. The last time I personally felt this was during Endgame, but still different. Each blockbuster has its own energy, but midway through Sinners’ first week in theaters, something changed. And not just in the story on screen.

Sinners, a personal screenplay written and directed by Ryan Coogler, launched with a press run marked by historic firsts and genuine excitement. Autumn Durald Arkapaw, the first woman to shoot in 65MM IMAX and Ultra Panavision 70, was part of that momentum, and Ryan made room for it. But as the press coverage continued, something under the surface started to sour — the kind of tension that flies under the radar for some and rings loudly in the ears of others.

Vulture was the first source to announce Ryan’s landmark film agreement with Warner Bros., and swiftly mentioned how studio executives were ‘spooked’ by the deal. They stressed it could set a precedent that might hinder the traditional studio system. Shortly after, the news spread, and other outlets cited Vulture’s framing. Then came the articles questioning Sinners’ box office expectations. How convenient that when a Black filmmaker does something amazing, the validity and profitability of his art come into question. The irony, of course, is that all of this is unfolding around a film that explores some of these very themes.

So why do I care?

Ryan isn’t the first to negotiate a powerful deal. George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, James Cameron, and Christopher Nolan have all made agreements that reshaped the industry. And when covered by the press, those moves are treated with admiration and curiosity. Ryan’s deal, however, lingered in the headlines far longer than I was comfortable with, not because it wasn’t worthy of attention, but because I know what happens when Black success gets spotlighted. First, they’re impressed. Then, they inspect. The comparisons online between Variety’s headline for Tarantino’s film and Coogler’s were evidence enough. It’s subtle but revealing — the way coverage evolves depending on who’s being praised and what power structures their success threatens.

Ryan’s deal is brilliant and potentially industry-shifting, but the world was already headed in that direction. Society at large has been moving toward independence in every field, and if little ol’ me knows that, then surely the most intelligent entrepreneurs, journalists, and executives know it too.

So what’s the issue, really?

Language is power, and this weekend, Coogler was met with a quiet storm of criticism wielded as a weapon to subtly diminish his accomplishments. When Black success disrupts comfort zones, the micro-aggressive analyses start to stir. A Black person challenging old power dynamics simply by being himself is seen as an act of war. Shoutout to Black Twitter for shutting the nonsense down expeditiously, with an assist from Ben Stiller, by calling out the disproportionate critique — not because critique doesn’t exist elsewhere, but because the tone shifts when it’s a Black filmmaker in power.

I wholeheartedly disagree with dimming our light to maintain these structures. Like the scene in Sinners, we're here to burn the roof down, not prop it up. This raises a critical question: Should we, akin to Coogler's groundbreaking film deal, forge a hybrid model of strategic invisibility and privacy? Is it possible to remain visible while safeguarding enough of ourselves to move in silence and shield our energy from external forces that disproportionately harm Black people?

Let’s normalize telling people to mind their business — because their curiosity endangers us.

We’ve seen what happens to our most influential leaders when their accomplishments become too visible. Will we ever be able to view privacy as simply a personality trait, or will it always be a survival tactic for Black people seeking longevity? To be clear, Ryan didn’t seem to be in any immediate ‘danger’ — in case I’m not getting my point across — but I felt like Raven Baxter all weekend, foreseeing all the ways social media, and even the quiet bitterness of studio executives, could turn something so beautiful into something incredibly ugly.

Sometimes, visibility isn’t our friend. But for as long as we can, until we get into a position like Ryan’s where your silent moves inevitably lead to loud results, we need to protect ourselves, our minds, and our spirits, because Black brilliance is steadily attacked. Filmmakers can’t always move quietly, and a deal like this would have gotten out regardless, but it’s unfortunate that with great accomplishments comes the realization that your success will piss a lot of people off. This entire ordeal made me appreciate my right to privacy and anonymity.

That being said, our existence is beautiful, and scrutiny seems inevitable when your gifts put you in a position to push the needle. Visibility is a double-edged sword, often laced with deep-seated, systemically racist discomfort that was never meant to make room for us. We just have to decide what’s worth it, and I think for Coogler, Sinners was totally worth it.

UPDATE: Warner Bros Chief Michael De Luca reacts to the Vulture article that really could have set off a hate train the size of Texas in motion.

Excerpt from The Hollywood Reporter:

De Luca, meanwhile, is still stung by the Vulture piece, which questioned the decision to allow Coogler to retain rights to Sinners after 25 years - a clause typically reserved for the Tarantinos of the industry. "They talked about this as an existential threat to the industry. I mean, it's so ignorant and laughable," he says.
"Of course, it's not a make-or-break thing for any studio or the industry. It was a competitive situation. Ryan himself went on the record saying he was going to get it from somebody else, and he made a pretty effective case for this movie, especially with its themes of Black ownership. This is very important and personal to him, and frankly, were proud to be able to give it to Ryan."

This just further proves my point that all of this was problematic AF.