[THE MAIN EVENT]

UpRising: You’ve spoken about encountering skeptics while fundraising for Love, Brooklyn—people questioning whether there’s an audience for this kind of movie. Why do you think that skepticism existed, and what does the early success prove?

Andre Holland: There's always been skepticism around whether people are going to go see Black movies. That's been disproven again and again, yet we still have to keep disproving it. I'm thinking about One of Them Days, which did so well. People's reaction was like, “Wow, how did that happen?” instead of saying “Well, clearly we're missing something here and there's an audience and that we need to be serving.” 

It feels good that we've had such a great response so far and that people are showing up. It makes me feel hopeful for not just this movie, but for other Black movies that want to find an audience.

Rachel Holder, director of Love, Brooklyn, has described the love triangle at the heart of the plot as two women deciding whether they want to be with your character, Roger—and not the other way around. How much agency do you feel Roger had in that dynamic?

He probably had more agency than he deserved. He had the attention of these two incredible women, both of whom were interested in him for their own reasons. But he wasn't, in my opinion, at a place where he was able to be with either one of them. He had some growing up to do. It's a coming-of-age story—he just happens to be in his early 40s. By the end of the movie, he starts that process of growing up and being able to sit with himself and understand if he's gonna be in a relationship, he's gonna have to do some work on himself. 

Do you think there’s a moment or impetus that sets Roger on that path? 

I think so. When we meet him, he's stuck in this rut artistically where he's been asked to write this [essay] about Brooklyn. It's a feel-good piece about how great the neighborhood is, blah, blah. But he doesn't feel in alignment with that because his lived reality is so different. He's also stuck in this relationship with Casey, Nicole Beharie's character. There's a fun and ease to it, but he knows it's not working and probably never will. What he comes to realize is being honest with her about where he is at and what he wants to produce as a writer, those two things are connected. Him being honest about both of those situations opens him up to the possibility of being more fully who he is.

The thing that was interesting about the part was that shift—there's no big come-to-Jesus moment. There's an argument that happens, but it's not like a big I'm gonna throw this and throw that. It's like being on a ship: You wake up in a couple of days and realize you’re somewhere totally different. I was really interested in that, especially to see Black people making those kinds of choices, not relying on trauma, drama, violence. Just people making the little choices that impact their lives.

There was a scene in the script that was never filmed in which your character’s love interests, Nicole (DeWanda Wise) and Casey, meet. How do you think that would’ve played out considering the talented actresses involved?

Watching the two of them do anything would’ve been amazing. They are two of the best actresses in the world. We all wanted to see them on screen together. They wanted to be on screen together. But it didn't really make sense. It felt like something we'd have to shoehorn in. I hope people will see this movie and go, “Let's put these two in a movie together.” I'd love to see them share the screen together.

Gentrification is a prominent theme in the film. Have you had conversations with local business owners and residents about how Brooklyn has been changing?

I live in Bed-Stuy, and I've seen it changing every day. It's crazy how fast it's happening. Even in trying to find [filming] locations like [boutique store and cafe] Sincerely, Tommy—Kaiyi, who owns Sincerely, Tommy, her family has been in this neighborhood for generations, and she's still here. We shot at Dick & Jane’s on Malcolm X [Boulevard]. We were all over Brooklyn. And everybody was concerned about the changes that are happening in the neighborhood and also wanting to immortalize it, wanting to hold on to it in some way.

They're building this 80-unit condo on Malcolm X and Bainbridge [Street]. I was standing there looking at the schematic on the scaffolding and this brother walked by, older dude. He was like, “Man, there used to be a church here.” He told me the whole story about all the drama that unfolded around it. But now, all people will know is that there's an 80-unit condo building here. Even if we can't preserve the place, I would like to find a way to preserve the stories, the memory of those places. 

One idea I wish made it into the film was I wanted my character to go out in the streets and interview real people from the neighborhood to tell their stories about what they've seen change and what used to be. That's something I still want to do as a project.

Have you thought about how the themes of Love, Brooklyn might relate or translate to viewers in cities outside of New York City, where gentrification is also taking place?

Absolutely. That's a great question. I appreciate you saying that. That's one thing that we kept thinking about. We're talking about Brooklyn, but it's everywhere. Who knows, maybe we'll get a chance to tell another version of this story—“Love, Atlanta” or “Love, Birmingham.” Because it's happening everywhere. There are so many other stories to be told and memories to be preserved. Even in all the places that I've been where gentrification is happening so fast, it sometimes can feel like life is not happening anymore. Like it suddenly has changed and people are just gone. But that's untrue because here in Bed-Stuy, people are still living. We still here. There's still community, still stuff happening. I love and want to celebrate that. I want to do whatever I can to preserve it, both in Brooklyn and in other cities that are experiencing this.

I interpreted Roger’s editorial at the end of the film as embracing change in both community and romance. What did you make of the sentiment of that monologue, and how does it align with your viewpoint?

[Roger’s] relationship to the neighborhood is changing. But I don't think he's pro-gentrification. I don't think he's saying “Let me be at peace with the new matcha cafe or whatever.” He's saying there's still life here. There's still people here to love. There's still community here. We just gotta adapt and find new ways to be in community with each other. But to give up the idea of community is not possible. That's a nonstarter. 

Me and some folks in the neighborhood have been talking about what we can do to create more spaces here in the neighborhood for us. When [Roger] says, “We got to learn to love it in a new way,” that's what he's saying. Let me really love the place by pouring into it and creating spaces and making it what we want it to be. Don't just concede to the people coming in here trying to extract value. No, let's make a stand and do something on our own terms, in our own way.

What's next for you after Love, Brooklyn?

I got a bunch of stuff I'm working on. I'm doing a play at The Shed in New York called The Brothers Size with Tarell McCraney, who co-wrote Moonlight and High Flying Bird. We'll be on until Sept. 28. My production company, Harper Road, we probably have 18 projects that are in various stages of development, across all genres and sizes. Producing has become more important to me. Not because I love producing, but because I feel like there's so many stories I want to tell and I don't like waiting on people to give me permission to do it. I want to have more control and more agency over what I do. I want to continue telling the kinds of stories that uplift our community. Not that all of them are exclusively for Black audiences, but I like the idea of centering us because I think we have so many stories that haven't been told yet. I'm really committed to that.

—John Kennedy

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[IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING]

Where's Wanda?

The series finale of the crime-drama Snowfall hit viewers like an avalanche—but its story isn’t done yet. Gail Bean, who plays the formerly drug-addicted Wanda Bell-Simmons, offers a sneak peek at what to expect from the upcoming spinoff.

It is so fire and so nostalgic: South Central L.A. [in the] ’90s. We'll cover significant [real-life] events that people remember, but we'll also touch on the essence of family, the essence of love—that undeniable love. Because, of course, it's Leon [Simmons] and Wanda. You’ll meet Wanda's family.

We have some really dope people on board making sure the music is on point. Joanetta Stowers is doing my makeup. Araxi Lindsey is doing my hair. Mynka [Draper] is doing wardrobe. We have a bomb director, Ben Younger. Malcolm Spellman is the creator and showrunner—that’s truly one of the things that will set us apart from any other show. —As told to John Kennedy

While Snowfall’s follow-up series is currently in production, you can catch Gail Bean sooner in the long-awaited third season of P-Valley, which is expected to drop later this year.

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[TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT]

I don’t want to sound toxic, but I feel like if you crash out at a point, that just means you’re really in love.

Relationships can quickly go from icy to spicy. In an extensive cover story interview, this bombshell cops to sometimes getting in her mood—as well as refreshing her music career after taking a step back. Tap in to see who it is.