A Few Thoughts on Inclusion in Hollywood

Recently, the CW had a moment of reckoning when Riverdale’s Vanessa Morgan took to social media to call out the dismissive treatment she received on the show. She pointed out how her character, Toni, has been used to prop up white characters’ stories instead of being given storylines of her own, and she also noted that she, the only Black regular in the cast, was also the lowest-paid. In response, showrunner Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa acknowledged her grievances, apologized, and promised to do better for her and all the other actors of color on the show.

That’s important, that her concerns were heard/validated rather than denied or dismissed and that change was promised, but of course, the proof will be in the pudding. It’ll be on Riverdale now to follow through and actually do the work to better serve its characters of color. Because this isn’t the first time a show has been confronted by issues like this, and plenty of others have responded by saying the right words and then mostly going back to the status quo.

It gets into an important disconnect in how diverse and inclusive shows are created. Far too often, productions applaud themselves by casting actors of color in their series or their film, and to be sure, that isn’t nothing. Actors of color will never get ahead if they’re never given opportunities, if roles are shut out to them and they’re not even allowed a chance to audition or a real shot at proving their worth in a role. The problem is that too many productions seem to think that’s where the work ends. Revealing a glossy photo of their diverse cast, the show hangs up an “Inclusion Accomplished!” banner, not acknowledging that true inclusion requires deeper effort on their part.

When Morgan called out how actors of color are “only used in the ads for diversity but not in the actual show,” I knew exactly what she meant because that was my precise reaction to Riverdale. I was initially drawn to the show in part due to its diverse cast (Veronica’s Latinx! Reggie’s Asian American! All the Pussycasts are Black!), but the reality of the series quickly failed to deliver on that promise. The Pussycats evaporated into just Josie before long, and she too eventually left the show after being given little to do. Reggie, just as essential in the comics as the “core four,” has never really felt incorporated into the cast. And while I’ve loved Veronica at different points in the show, I don’t think it’s an accident that she’s also the lightest-skinned of the characters of the color, and for the first few seasons, any reference to her culture is limited to her parents calling her “mija.”

So, while casting diverse actors is a crucial step in creating an inclusive show, it’s only step one. From there, work has to extend into the writers’ room. The writers need to write for these characters (imagine that!), including them in meaningful ways and giving them space within the story to shine. Furthermore, it’s often vital that the makeup of the writers’ room reflect the makeup of the cast. Candice Patton from The Flash has talked about this, how the show passed so many seasons with major Black cast members but no Black writers. This led to a lot of lost opportunity, both in the creation of small moments of authenticity within the characters’ lives and in the chance to craft characters’ voices in a way that shows how they’re shaped by their heritage. Cultural consultants can help, but having writers of similar backgrounds to the characters is even better.

From there, we look at finer points of the production. Again, Candice Patton has talked about this, but numerous Black actors and actresses have called out the all-too-frequent absence of hair and makeup artists who can style Black people, leaving Black performers stuck trying to clean up the work of an uninformed hair or makeup artist while the white performers have their looks professionally styled by people who know what they’re doing. John Cho has discussed the recurring problem of people of color being poorly lit onscreen, and Ava DuVernay has talked about the importance of taking the time and effort to make sure everyone on Queen Sugar is well lit. And also, why was Masi Oka translating the Japanese dialogue in Heroes himself? Why did the show not hire someone to do that?

Finally, shows have to support their actors of color. From the producers to their fellow castmates, there needs to be a workplace culture of support that doesn’t leave them to fend for themselves against fandom racism. Grant Gustin got a lot of recognition when he spoke up on social media about racist Flash fans who attack Candice Patton (that poor woman has been through it with that show,) but there were also questions about why it took him five seasons to clearly and unequivocably call out the racism she’d been experiencing since day one. An unfortunate SOP from producers seems to have been to warn actors to expect racism from fans, wish them the best of luck, and then stay out of it, and that’s not right. Shows need to form a united front, standing alongside cast members receiving abuse at the hands of fans and making it clear that they won’t tolerate that kind of treatment.

Again, I’m never going to advocate for shows or films not casting actors of color, but I want them to realize that the job doesn’t end there. Creating a truly-diverse show requires a lot more work than that, but the end result of those efforts can be immensely rewarding.

Favorite Characters: Jughead Jones (Riverdale)

The return of Riverdale brought the show back to mind for me, and although the last couple seasons of the show haven’t been as fun for me as its debut season, I still enjoy it, and the characters are a big part of that. The “less fun of late” thing is unfortunately-true for Jughead as well, since none of the Serpent stuff really interests me and that’s been most of Jughead’s story for the last two seasons. However, Serpent trope-iness aside, I do like the show’s take on the character (a few Jughead-related spoilers.)

The series initially takes a bit of a slow burn with Jughead.  Even though he’s the show’s narrator from minute one, we get hardly more than a glimpse of him as a character before episode two, and even there, it’s basically just hints of what kind of person he is.  Clearly, he’s not the funny, hungry slacker from the comics.  He can be nihilistic at times and he’s not much of a joiner, but a slacker he is not.

So what is he?  He’s weird, a little dark, and (more than) a little pretentious.  He waxes about classic films and reads Kafka before bed, and he’s writing a book about the death of Jason Blossom that he envisions as being the next In Cold Blood.  He’s the sort of kid that the jocks are suspicious of, which doesn’t bother him too much, as he’s never put much stock in high school hierarchy. 

While he’s still Archie’s best friend, much more of Jughead’s time is spent with Betty. They start out as friends/partners in crime-investigation when she cajoles him into joining her on the school newspaper, enticing him with the promise of uncovering Jason’s murderer. Before long, though, they’re in a serious ride-or-die romantic relationship in which each regularly serves as the other’s only-good-thing standing between them and all the craziness of their lives.

When the show plays with noir/detective elements, Jughead is usually at the center of it and it’s always fun.  He takes the work seriously and follows each trail of clues with the honest consideration it deserves, but he also just vibes on this stuff.  You can tell Jughead is reveling in all the insane stuff going down in Riverdale and picturing himself as a jaded detective, probably played by Humphrey Bogart. Give me Jughead constructing a murder board or shaking down a suspect any day.

While Riverdale’s verson of Jughead is intense and can veer into overwrought at times, I like that the show maintains its own brand of Jughead’s knowing humor.  He’s usually good for an awesome dryly-sarcastic line or two, and he can do literary reference, self-deprecation, and wry observation with equal aplomb.

Another important aspect of Jughead is his deep-rooted family issues, and while the sheer piling-on of all that heartache ranks pretty high on the angst-o-meter, I never doubt of the sincerity of Jughead’s fears and anguish over it.  Despite talking a good game of being apathetic and not letting things bother him, Jughead hurts deeply, and the more he lets someone in, the more he’s (very gradually) willing to reveal on that front.

But while the show keeps that part of the plot from wallowing in too much angst (most of the time,) where they lose me is when Jughead gets involved with the Southside Serpents, the local gang formerly run by his dad. It’s a bummer first of all, since Jughead was previously so against having anything to do with the Serpents, knowing the havoc it wreaked on his family life. But also, nearly everything Serpents-related since season 2 has been ridiculous, most of it not in Riverdale’s good-ridiculous sort of way. “Legacy” or not, it’s goofy that adult gang members would take orders from the teenage Jughead, and it’s absurd that Jughead acts like he and the other teenage members are an oppressed minority when the school bans gang memorabilia (dude, you’re in a gang, what did you expect Mr. Weatherbee to do?) Luckily, season 3 strikes more of a balance between intrepid-investigator Jughead and gang-leader Jughead, and season 4 has yet to hit the gang stuff too hard. Is there hope yet?

Before I go, I do have to express my disappointment that one of the show’s most popular characters isn’t portrayed as asexual, like he was in his own comic. Of course, given the army of Bughead stans out there, there’s a distinct possibility that Jughead wouldn’t be as popular without his romantic relationship with Betty (though I maintain that the show could have split the difference and given us an ace Jughead who was heteroromantic.) I’ve talked before about how I’ve come to terms with it, but it is a shame. Asexual Jughead Jones in the comics means so much to me, and it could’ve been incredible to see another version of that character on a wild CW teen drama.

Favorite Characters: Veronica Lodge (Riverdale)

Veronica was the first character on Riverdale to hook me back in the pilot, something I never would’ve anticipated.  I’m not against Veronica in the comics – I enjoy her presence well enough in Jughead, and Archie does some pretty good things with her – but I didn’t love her or was particularly invested in her outside of Riverdale.  But this version of Veronica is terrific, and even though she, like most of the characters, has been dinged up by the show’s fluctuating levels of quality, I still root for her (a few Veronica-based spoilers.)

One of Archie comics’ most enduring features is its Archie-Betty-Veronica love triangle, and I wasn’t surprised when, within seconds of Veronica meeting the other two in the show, that plot was off and running.  However, the series did surprise me with how quickly it pushed that idea aside to make room for more interesting storylines and directions in which to take the characters (sad when love triangles are so ubiquitous that a teen show opting instead for something interesting is noteworthy, but here we are.)  It’s an important pivot for the series in deciding what kind of story it’s going to be, and while she’s not the only factor in this change, Veronica’s character does have a lot to do with that.

While comic-book Veronica is a prototypical spoiled princess, a materialist daddy’s girl with all the boys at her beck and call, that’s not the tack they take with TV Veronica.  TV Veronica, it’s true, has until recently been a spoiled princess, and a mean girl to boot.  But she had a recent change in fortune after  her father was arrested in a very public scandal.  This is what brings her to Riverdale in the first place, leaving New York with her mom after the family’s dirty laundry airs on national news and most of their assets are frozen.  In season 1, Veronica still has a fair amount to learn about not being rich anymore (she’s awfully quick about making lavish purchases,) but she’s taken what happened to heart and is determined to come out of it all a better person.  Over the course of the series, of course, things happen with Hiram and the Lodges are back in the money, but while Veronica flirts with how associated she wants to be with her parents’ dirty dealings, she doesn’t leave behind the new attitudes she gained during the family’s period of disgrace.

This is a Veronica who’s been working to reform herself.  She doesn’t want to be the cruel, popular girl who laughs at those weaker than her, not now that she’s learned how quickly circumstances can change.  So, instead of initially rolling with Cheryl and her cliquey squad, Veronica branches out.  She uses her fierceness as a force for good, standing up to Cheryl’s tyranny on the cheerleading squad and leading the charge for the reptuations of girls who’ve been slut-shamed by the football team.  She also becomes very genuine friends with Betty and puts that friendship above love-triangle considerations – although Veronica and Archie start dating eventually, it’s not until after Betty gets together with Jughead.

I like that Veronica is tough and formidable even as she learn to be kind, and I love that she’s highly literate and effortlessly bright at the same time that she waxes poetic over shoes and rocks a pearl necklace.  She’s girly and smart, considerate but not a pushover.  That’s beautifully complex for a girl on a teen drama, and that’s on top of her general solidarity with other girls, which, again, is awesome.

Unfortunately, Veronica has never quite equaled the heights of her first season for me, but that’s largely because of how she’s been weighed down by one Hiram Lodge.  Hiram and his secret deals and dastardly plans mostly just annoy me, and both Veronica and Archie are depressingly caught up in the Lodge Family Crime Syndicate story in season 2.  Season 3 still has Veronica very much in Hiram’s orbit, but at least she’s now placed more in opposition to her father and has been bringing her back in more interesting directions.

Still, though, Veronica can’t be fully dragged down by these less-entertaining storylines.  Because ultimately, she’s still the poised, erudite rich girl who’s been humbled and come out better for it but who continues to love a good bit of dramatic flair (no wonder she and Cheryl eventually became friends – they’re made for each other!)  She’s witty, she’s fierce, she’s delightfully extra, and on the whole, I’m happy to love her.

Archie, Vol. 2 (2016)

I’m still a little mixed on Archie.  There’s some good, fun stuff here, but it’s very triangle-heavy, which gets grating.  For now, it’s still worth reading.  But long-term?  Not sure.

Archie’s relationship with Veronica hits a snag when her father takes a vehement dislike to him.  It’s tough to combat the scheming of an angry millionaire, and as Archie tries to avoid the wrath of Mr. Lodge, Betty struggles to help her friend amid her lingering feelings of jealousy.

A lot of this is very predictable, which I suppose should be within reason for Archie.  The only problem is, my recent reacquaintance with that world has featured the nefarious principal conspiracies of Jughead and the maple-syrup blood feuds (it can never be said enough) of Riverdale, so “standard-issue Archie” doesn’t work quite as well for me.  I’m not all that interested in Archie fretting over whether or not he’s sophisticated enough for Veronica or Betty’s preoccupation with Archie getting in the way of her relationship.  It’s so “typical teen drama,” and while I’ve admittedly watched my share of teen dramas, those kinds of plots aren’t the reason why I watch them.

Which isn’t to say that there’s nothing worthwhile here.  On the contrary, there’s good stuff to like.  I enjoy an early scheme by Archie and Jughead in which they realize that Pops is the real Master of Whispers in Riverdale.  There’s also the continuing story of Veronica having trouble navigating the new middle-class world that’s brushing up against hers; her confusion at the Andrews’ lack of extravagance is fun, but this plot additionally provides some personal drama for Veronica as she struggles to fit in with Archie’s family.  While I prefer the Riverdale version of Veronica above any other, I do like that this one has some shades to her.  Does it all get a bit “poor little rich girl?”  Absolutely, but I appreciate seeing Veronica’s insecurities that come from only having experienced life in such a rarefied atmosphere.

Some of the plots in this volume get a little ridiculous, but not really in a fun way.  Jughead can be awesomely silly, and Riverdale can be balls-to-the-wall insane, but Archie seems to hit more on “implausible, but without the same level of heightened reality that can make it really pop.”  It’s not that I’m setting out to compare this comic unfavorably with other versions of these characters and this world – goodness knows Riverdale has its problems, and Jughead has yet to recapture the magic of its first eight issues.  However, for me, Archie doesn’t quite stand out, not yet.  It feels more standard-fare to me, and I’m still waiting for it to really pull me in.

Warnings

Some teen recklessness.