Middle of Nowhere

Rarely have I seen such a “tasty” portrayal of self-sacrificing in a way that depicts all that is wrong with love in a western context. However, where there is sacrifice there is also the hope of redemption. But redemption of what? Redemption from what? Enter Ruby in the film “Middle of Nowhere” - a salacious chocolate-skinned med student whose husband has been sentenced to eight years in prison for guns-trafficking. When she makes the decision to drop out of medical school to be there for her husband every weekend, a natural tendency might be to shake her into a “smarter” decision. Yet throughout this film, as the truth is illuminated - even the truth about her suspicions that their lifestyle didn’t match her husbands “employment” - Ruby’s growth made me proud to be called “woman.” Nothing about her journey - from her intentional choices to her unending predicaments - could be cause to label her a victim. She was not a victim. She was a woman - a woman who walked in full knowledge of the power of love and the power of having eyes that see. Beautifully shot and framed, “Middle of Nowhere” has the potential of becoming a cult classic in the black American community, akin to another “tasty” indie project “Love Jones.” In this film, I watched black characters engage in universal conflicts penned by a black American female screenwriter and director, and wondered if the universal audience (if there is such a thing) would get it. There were no “buppies”, Ivy-Leagurers, doctor/lawyer pairings rolling around in BMWs. None. There was a nurse, a prisoner, and a bus driver whose lives played artistically on the big-screen. And I loved every minute of it, so much so that I bought a bus pass...just in case.

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