I have a Master’s Degree in Cinema Studies from Tisch School of the Arts, NYU’s prestigious arts program. Alumni include Martin Scorsese, after whom the program has now been renamed, Spike Lee, Jennie Livingston, and Sean Baker.

As someone who will be paying off that year and a half MA programs for the rest of my natural life, I hold my Alma Mater to a certain standard. A standard of impeccable filmmaking, that tells a unique and specific story both visually and narratively, and that interrogates some facet of human existence previously unexamined. I hold Tisch filmmakers to a higher standard because we are filmmakers and academics. We know our history. Like the infamous Cahiers du Cinema writers Jean Luc Godard and François Truffaut, we make better films because we understand the language of cinema. Because we are fluent, we can improvise; expand the boundaries of genre in new ways by focusing the lens on new worlds.

Funny accents and specificity of storytelling

Martin Scorsese is famous for using ethnicity as a vehicle for storytelling. By and large, he makes white immigrant stories. He’s a master at it. His vision is highly critical, and deeply personal. Compare his version of gangsters to Francis Ford Coppola’s (a UCLA grad). Whereas The Godfather Trilogy has crystalized the mestizo, the pageantry, and the elegance of the gangster, Martin Scorsese’s films show you to raw ugly truth. Gangsters are brutal, flawed, and messy. They are unassimilated immigrants in a land they don’t understand - nor care to. They are (willing) outsiders.

That makes sense. Scorsese was born in New York. He saw these communities up close. It’s why his mother, a regular cast addition, fits so well. She’s part of the set design of immigrant New York. He is from that community. His specificity made the genre all his own.

The best example of this is his famous tracking shot in Goodfellas where Danny and Lorraine go through the back entrance of a club, through the kitchen, and arrive to be seated front row at a show. If you haven’t seen the film, but just saw that clip, you’d still get the entire storyline and point: Yes, “gangster life” has its perks, but you have to wind your way through the backdoors of the world to get there. It could get messy.

Spike Lee is famous for using race and gender to confront notions of both in America. By and large, he makes movies about the subjective experiences of Blackness in a racist, sexist white world. He does this masterfully. Even without Black people as the protagonists of the film, like in 25th Hour, his films interrogate issues of race and gender in a way that is confrontational and enlightening.

Lee has often been left off “best filmmaker” lists despite having one of the most visually recognizable visual styles of filmmaking. Why? Because of our cultural shortcomings in defining films about Black, Queer, or Non-American as “that kind of film” over assigning traditional genres. It’s hard to be part of the “best Drama” canon when you only make “Black films” according to the list makers.

From his choice of wardrobe, to set design, to his camera movement and placement, Spike Lee joints have redefined our way of subjectively “walking” with our characters through an experience. The best example of this is his famous use of what he deems a “floating dolly.”

Martin and Spike have a lot in common as filmmakers, but my point in mentioning them now is accountability. Lee and Scorsese know about loyalty and respect. Back when they had nothing, and they were truly “independent” filmmakers, they worked with a group of talented actors and crews, many of whom were paid very little for their work.

When the big paychecks started to come, both Lee and Scorsese repaid those early years with bigger roles and even bigger paychecks. They remembered where they came from, and who helped get them there.

Robert DeNiro has done 10 movies with Scorsese. Harvey Keitel has done 6. Both of them appears in Mean Streets, Scorsese’s break out hit.

Denzel Washington, by far Spike Lee’s favorite lead, has appeared in 4 of his films, and is set to make that 5 in their upcoming remake of Kurosawa’s High and Low, a personal favorite of mine.

The Human Cost of Low Budget

Before Anora became a box office success, very few people outside the indie filmmaking community had ever heard of Sean Baker. Now four-time Oscar winner, tied with Walt Disney for the most statues in a single night, is part of hollywood history. Up until now, he was mostly known as that guy who shot a feature on his iPhone.

On Sunday night, he gave numerous acceptance speeches, one of which called out the industry for a focus on truly independent filmmaking. As an independent filmmaker, I applaud this effort. This was a huge moment and platform, and he used it - I believe in good faith - to help promote new kinds of stories being told that resembled real people. My issue is not with his message. It’s the context of his message.

The film that was shot on an iPhone that garnered so much attention at Sundance in 2015 was not his own personal opus. Tangerine was a film about black trans sex workers in Los Angeles. That subject matter is very rarely mentioned, if at all. Unlike Scorsese and Lee, Baker doesn’t make films about communities for which he is a member. Which means, as a straight, cis, white filmmaker, he treads a fine line - or should.

Baker lived near the Donut Time1, which was a well-known pick up spot for sex workers. He got the story directly from the trans women, so a lot was written for him. He also used two real workers as actors. He pointed his iphone and shot the film, which is how he was able to make it for $100,000 - most of which went towards post production to make it look more professional and less like a cell phone.

Was it innovative? Absolutely. Was it brave? eh. It’s been done before.

Actually, by another NYU grad - Jennie Livingston. As a white queer woman, she was introduced to Harlem’s ballroom scene in the 80s. Her now infamous documentary Paris is Burning - where you get all your cool gay sayings from - was screened and won the best documentary at - you guessed it - Sundance. The Sundance template is simple: make a movie about trans people, without being trans yourself, and you’ll succeed. Will & Harper from last year’s festival is yet another example of how popular trans stories can be on the festival circuit. That one did include a trans person in the making of it though, which is pretty cool.

Sean Baker has a penchant for making films about sex work. Anora is his first version to focus a cis woman as the worker, and it’s his largest budget to date. I haven’t seen it, because I feel like I’ve already seen it. I twice had reserved tickets on AMC, and then canceled at the last minute. Nothing about the trailer really drew me to the story, and if you know film history, you can easily see how it was going to be some mishmash of Pretty Woman (with the original ending), Casino, Leaving Las Vegas, and True Romance. From reviews and friends, I know I’m not wrong.

The accounts I did hear suggested the performance of Mikey Madison was great. But also, the "f slur,” and no, not the one Conan mentioned at the Oscars - is rampant and for no reason. It’s not imaginative to use the “f word” like Tarantino uses the “n word.” Seeing him receive his directing Oscar from Tarantino was so apropo. One white guy accused of misappropriating cultures in favor of “cinematic independence” for his own benefit handing the reins to the next generation? Hollywood, am I right?

My key issue with Sean Bakers context for calling out studios to support more independent filmmaking is his silence on what specific stories they don’t support. And also, that his lack of loyalty is also indicative of the same types of things studios do. Unlike Lee, Scorsese and Tarantino, Baker doesn’t reach back to return the investments after he’s been giving more spoils. He’s more of a single-use guy. Takes what he likes and uses it for his own benefit.

Here’s what I mean.

The Tangerine Budget was $100K. The gross box office - $900K Most of which probably didn’t make its way back to the actors or community. Which honestly isn’t uncommon. What usually transpires is when you have the money and notoriety from one project, you pay it back on your next. Baker never cast any of those actors in his next film, The Florida Project, which has a budget of $2 million. That’s a 5x increase in budget, and was SAG eligible. He could have given those actresses access to SAG, to its health care, to its protections, to its trainings, and to its opportunities. He didn’t do that. He single-used the community for his own purpose and discarded it right after.

If you think that’s too harsh, consider this. If roles aren’t an option, one could also offer IMDB credit so that if something hits big, you get recognized for your full contribution. Since these women offered their own personal experiences as the storylines for the film, they more than deserved credit as “story by” or even “written by” given they provided the community specific words and situations in the film. Baker didn’t credit any of the sex workers as writers. He took credit for it with his writing partner Chris Bergoch. They even accepted awards for the screenplay. No acknowledgement of the women, their contributions, nor any credit.

When Sean Baker used his platform to talk about supporting independent films, it would seem that he’s just speaking for himself. In all of those four speeches, it never occurred to him to thank the trans community for their role in helping him achieve his success. He also didn’t acknowledge the very real dangers trans people face now. A sentiment that was resoundly silent during the show despite wins from both Baker and Zoey Saldana for Emilia Perez. Since Baker has worked with the trans community, his message could inspire more compassion and regard especially from other cis, white, straight men. The silence was loud. Also, given the trajectory of his own career, he has been supported as an indie filmmaker. He’s been given budget increase after budget increase, and now, he’ll get even more. So, who specifically was that plea for?

Herein lies he next rub. He’s not only silent about the trans community he’s worked with. His next speech about “protecting sex work” was even more troubling. He’s publicly acknowledged that he wants to fight for sex work to be decriminalized, which is valiant. However, his depictions of sex work isn’t progressive. The women in his films have little to no agency, and on his own set, he didn’t provide an Intimacy Coordinator for Mikey Madison. He “offered her one if she wanted it” which is NOT the same thing. As a director and producer on a film, you’re responsible for setting the tone and integrity of a production. Part of decriminalizing sex work is to ensure the safety and consent of everyone. Passing the responsibility onto an inexperienced 25-year-old actress in her first starring role, knowing the tight budget constraints of indie filmmaking is irresponsible - in the nicest terms - reprehensible and deeply troubling - in professional terms. Dangerous as a precedent.

If you think I am alone in this, watch Pamela Anderson’s face as Mikey explains this in their Vanity Fair actor on actor interviews. She winces. As we all should.

What a time to be the white guy

In a year that gave us a slew of incredible cinema, I for one thought that the big budget masterpiece dedicated to the love between two women - Wicked - would sweep the Academy. It had all the makings of a La La Land - practical effects, singing and dancing about a beloved IP. I am floored by the lack of awards it received, including Best Director. I mean, 1 million daffodils. A focus on traditional filmmaking. Live singing. Real sets. John M. Chu did have $150 million to play with, but it grossed $728. That’s massive. It had a silver lining - or silver cravat - in that Paul Tazewell won the first ever Oscar by a Black man in Costume Design.

The Substance, which was my favorite film of the year, was made for $18 million, which definitely makes it an independent film. France and the UK contributed funds, which means that more than likely, it was around $6 million US dollars, which puts it on par with Anora.

The Substance was a one-of-a-kind marvel. It was spectacular, self-aware, about Hollywood - Hollywood’s favorite subject - and it had massive stars in Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley. In any other year, this film is a shoe in to win. At the very least, Best Screenplay - for it’s pure originality. And Demi not getting Best Actress is still mind-blowing to me.

What also strikes me as odd is that these two films - Wicked and The Substance - were blockbuster hits and got people TO THE MOVIES - which was all the buzz this year. In all this talk about the death of movie-going, these two raked in the viewers. Wicked screened on 3800 screens, and continues to play in theaters through April 2025!

So what gives? These films were unique, diverse, successful, entertaining, imaginative, technically flawless, perfect for the big screen viewing, and yet… Anora walks away with the prizes?

Look at the synopsis on IMDB.

Anora: “A young escort from Brooklyn meets and impulsively marries the son of a Russian oligarch. Once the news reaches Russia, her fairy tale is threatened as his parents set out for New York to get the marriage annulled.”

Pretty Woman: “Edward, a rich entrepreneur, hires Vivian, a prostitute, to accompany him to a few social events. Trouble ensues when he falls in love with her and they try to bridge the gap between their worlds.”

True Romance: “In Detroit, a pop-culture enthusiast steals cocaine from his new wife's pimp and tries to sell it in Hollywood, prompting the mobsters who own the drugs to pursue the couple.”

Working Girls: “A lesbian college graduate, trying to bankroll her own photography business, works as a high-priced New York City escort.”

Given that both Wicked and The Substance were directed at diverse audiences, and by directors who are underrepresented filmmakers, I began to wonder: Why are we suddenly focused on this one white guy? It seemed to come out of nowhere, this buzz around Anora. Why?

Well, there’s a certain tendency in America right now to turn our focus back to a certain type of era. The past.

Now that he’s won, there are rumors circulating that one of the ways Sean Baker keeps his budgets low is because he skirts around unions for crews. He underpays or doesn’t pay fair wages. I cannot substantiate those without more details, but it would certainly fit the mold of his predecessor. Harking back to the “good old days” of taking stories away from communities and making them your own without conscious or consequence, taking all the credit in the name of brand recognition and absolving yourself of all responsibility to the crew and cast that created something, and sidestepping or dismissing unions and workers rights. Walt Disney meet Sean Baker. The new you. How much like you is yet to be discovered.

Does anyone do this well?

A lot of Sean Baker #stans will defend his position as a filmmaker. Their argument is some version of suggesting that he’s not required to be loyal to anyone or anything but his art. Yes. That’s true. For what it’s worth, Spike Lee and Martin Scorsese are not without sin, because their work is riddled with issues. Killers of the Flower Moon being the most recent example of Martin’s, and She Hate Me being the “Spike Lee doesn’t believe in Black queer sexuality” film I wish didn’t exist.

We all have missteps. We’re all learning. This is not about cancelation.

As I said before, as an alumni from Tisch, I hold my colleagues to a much higher standard. Especially when we have clear examples of filmmaking giants that came before him who know exactly how to both tell a great story using people from a community that fall far outside the bounds of normal society WITHOUT exploiting them, and when the big paychecks and notoriety come in, pay that debt BACK to the ones that brought you.

Who fits that description you ask?

Ladies, Gentlemen, and my GNC, Non-binary people, I give you… John Waters.

A Tisch drop out.

This legendary filmmaker hales from the wide weird world of Baltimore, Maryland. I know one person from Baltimore, and she is definitely weird (and I mean that as the highest compliment). His films are about the deep outskirts of society. The misfits, the rebels, the ne'er do wells. The deviants and the perverts are his favorite.

In what would later be known as the Trash Trilogy - Pink Flamingos, Female Trouble and Desperate Living, Waters took avant garde and exploitation pictures to the extreme with his style of shock and awe. His muse was a round-bodied, loud-mouthed, brash, trashy queen who he named Divine. Divine was everything America hated about women, wrapped up in a plus size man. She was filthy, sex crazed, drug addicted, and trouble-seeking. She was aptly named, and the films they made together became a vehicle for his success and her infamy.

His crew, the Dreamlanders, were people he knew from his life who loved his vision. They were a collection of weirdos just like him. Faithful to him, as he was faithful to them. This is my favorite chart. It’s a list of all the Dreamlanders and their involvement in each of his films. It’s incredible.

John Waters knew who he was, where he came from, and the world he was creating. He had no interest in selling out, and when he finally got the big paycheck to make Hairspray with a $2.7 million budget in 1988 ($7 million today), did he ditch his Dreamlanders and his muse for the Hollywood safe versions?

No. He did not.

He used the people that got him there.

Divine was cast as Edna Turnblad, and would become an iconic character in films and on Broadway. Prominent stage legends Michael Ball and Harvey Fierstein famously revised the roles on Broadway and the UK Version. John Travolta stepped in to fill the heels in the 2017 remake.

John Waters didn’t let Hollywood change who he was or the people he represented. He used his own voice, talent, and collection of weirdos to change Hollywood, and thus the world. He brought Elizabeth Godzilla Taylor to Hollywood and let her roar.

That is how you become a film legend.

Sean Baker, you could learn a thing or two from him.