Everything Is <i> Not</i> Quite Right on ‘Laurel Avenue’

For five years I toiled in the executive ranks of a major television network. There, I learned that the television and film media speak, almost exclusively, the language of pandering, wish-fulfillment and image making. This is neither condemnation nor judgment. It is simply a statement of fact.

Watching the much-touted “Laurel Avenue” on HBO, the saga of a black, middle-class St. Paul, Minn., family (“Black Family Improves ‘Laurel Avenue,’ ” Calendar, July 10), I realized that it is the willful use of this television language that leads to the grotesque images of African-Americans that so often plague the large and small screens.

The publicity regarding “Laurel Avenue” highlighted the “reality” of the place, that the show presented an “accurate” portrait of the African-American family, and that its characters were “identifiable.” This emphasis on the portrayal of “realistic” and “identifiable” all-purpose African-Americans is a common tactic with black-themed material.

Now, when whites watch TV, from “Roseanne” to “Seinfeld” to “L.A. Law,” they have their notions of what is good in them reinforced. They are told that, despite their financial burdens and worries, they are as clever, loving and resilient as Roseanne’s Connor clan. When they watch a TV drama, they are told that in their world, good will generally triumph over evil, and more importantly, that their first impulse is toward the good and not the latter.

Since TV was born as (and remains) a sales medium, it had to lull and sweet-talk the viewer, so to better seduce her or him into buying its wares. Like any good salesman, TV told them what they wanted to hear. It usually still does.

But when I, a black man, turn on “Laurel Avenue,” suddenly that familiar, soothing TV voice is nowhere to be heard. For some reason, the makers of this film (which include the talented Charles Dutton and Carl Franklin as producer and director, respectively) no longer pander to my image of myself nor fulfill my wishes. They force upon me the unfamiliar language of supposed “reality” and “accuracy,” tongues rarely if ever spoken on TV.

The TV “reality” of black people is that we are defined by our social problems. Thus, in “Laurel Avenue,” this middle-class family (the matriarch and patriarch live in an enormous home and family members drive cars that bespeak upper-income groups) supports enough criminal activity to give Ma Barker and her clan a run for their money.

First, their daughter is a drug addict. Fine. It happens. The story of a black, middle-class family struggling with an addicted adult within it could make for good drama. However, since we are such a socially troubled people, and we are now speaking the new TV language of “accuracy” and “reality,” that will not do: The husband deals drugs and beats his wife; a son sells drugs and runs with a gang; a brother works for the Mafia; his best friend (who has no home nor visible means of support) lures the brother into hawking controlled substances to the Mafia; the youngest daughter’s boyfriend, a budding basketball star (of course) carries a pistol in his glove compartment and threatens to blow his brains out when he fouls up a basketball audition. Whew! Those black people sure have a lot of problems.

The depictions of blacks on TV reinforce how African-Americans see ourselves and how the white audience views us (just as the TV reinforces how the broader audience views itself). “Laurel Avenue” reinforces the notion that the lure toward “evil” is stronger within us, that we, regardless of our socioeconomic status, are more prone to the seductions of drugs, quick cash and the sociopathic.

Since so few depictions of African-Americans exist on TV, black TV makers seem to feel tempted to delineate all of our “social problems” and break new ground when granted the chance to present us. (The fact that we so often view ourselves as a collection of social problems instead of a collection of individuals is a testament to how poisoned our self-image has become). However, one scene in particular demonstrated the wrong-headedness with which the zealous go about reforming the medium.

There have been long-standing complaints about the lack of black sexuality on TV. Determined to cure that problem once and for all, “Laurel Avenue” opened its second installment with a graphic sex scene. This was neither teasing innuendo nor playful sheet-bobbing. This was lurid and right up there with anything in “Basic Instinct.” The act served no dramatic function; it told us nothing of the characters or of the nature of their relationship. This was pointless and vulgar.

What will our mania for “accuracy” spawn next?

TV’s language reinforces images. “The Cosby Show” and “A Different World” remain the exemplars of African-American-based programming because they are excellent pieces of image making.

Now, let’s try this again.