Is It Woke? ‘Project Greenlight’

Is Issa Rae’s reboot of Project Greenlight woke? Yes, it is, in both definitions of the word.

This all-new 10-episode Max docuseries hosted by the star of Insecure is identical to the original run of Project Greenlight, which was hosted and executive produced by Ben Affleck and Matt Damon. In those seasons, a filmmaker is selected from thousands of applicants and then given the chance to live their dream and make a movie.

The resulting show has always reminded me of the H.L. Mencken quote about democracy, which, according to him, is “the theory that the common people know what they want and deserve to get good and hard.”

This new Project Greenlight is woke in the traditional sense of the word in that the production is hyper-aware of Hollywood’s inequalities, and it wants to create opportunities for creative people of color who the system might otherwise overlook.

It’s also woke in the right-wing crank sense. If Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis were to watch Project Greenlight, he’d ball up his meatball fists in anger at all women of color in positions of power.

Unfortunately, Project Greenlight‘s wokeness is but a thin candy shell surrounding a standard reality competition show. Once the platitudes about diversity have subsided, all that remains is the petty backbiting and passive-aggressive sniping that is the lifeblood of reality television.

The last season of Project Greenlight was controversial because of the lack of diversity in the directors, made worse by Damon, who pushed back hiring non-white men on air and nearly got canceled for it. This statement went viral and may have something to do with why Project Greenlight was resurrected with a singular mission: select a woman to direct the season’s movie.

Damon’s statement that diversity is something for “the casting of the film, not in the casting of the show” was taken slightly out of context, which isn’t a defense of what he said since reality television is all about cutting and pasting words and moments out of context in the pursuit of a hyper-dramatic Franken-reality.

Project Greenlight‘s wokeness is but a thin candy shell surrounding a standard reality competition show. Once the platitudes about diversity have subsided, all that remains is the petty backbiting and passive-aggressive sniping that is the lifeblood of reality television.

But any criticisms of Project Greenlight‘s previous lack of pluralism in front of the camera is legitimate since white men helmed all four movies the show produced under Damon and Affleck. And those movies were all mediocre, at best. The first two were conventional low-budget indies: Stolen Summer was a drama about cancer and an unlikely friendship, and The Battle of Shaker Heights was a teen dramedy that starred the then-up-and-coming actor Shia LeBeouf. The best of the bunch was 2015’s offering, a schlocky horror movie titled Feast, directed by John Gulager, a true weirdo and auteur. (The relative success of Feast might have influenced Rae and company to try out another genre film for 2022.) And the less said about The Leisure Class, the better.

The flaw with Project Greenlight is that its entire raison d’être, whether anyone involved realizes it or not, is to be good reality television, which is an hour or so of attractive people in constant conflict. Project Greenlight isn’t really about diversity, filmmaking, or even making a good movie. It’s about pushing around whoever can be pushed around while the camera rolls.

The winner of this season is director Meko Winbush, one of the most relatable reality TV personalities I’ve encountered in a long time. She is quiet, thoughtful, and clever, and she doesn’t fit in with the assembled Hollywood players, which include producers from Rae’s production company HOORAE, executives from Catchlight Studios, and honchos from HBO Max (this all happened before Warner Brothers Discovery stripped their streaming platform of the three hottest letters in television history.)

Meko is an artist, but movie directors are also project managers who require considerable people skills and technical and storytelling talents. Most of those qualities can be learned, and it never seems like Meko is adequately shown the ropes. Instead, her coworkers are all seasoned professionals who seem frustrated by Meko’s lack of experience, at least for the camera.

Project Greenlight isn’t really about diversity, filmmaking, or even making a good movie. It’s about pushing around whoever can be pushed around while the camera rolls.

Speaking of, Meko seems uncomfortable talking to the camera crews falling her around, and at one point, even expresses frustration about their presence in her life. She found the cameras distracting when she had to finish rewriting a lackluster screenplay she did write but was tasked with fixing, all under a tight deadline. There’s a brief subplot in the early episodes about a production designer who Meko connected with but who quit the production because he couldn’t deal with being on camera, which is a rational response.

It is rational to be annoyed by cameras when you’re expected to do actual work that has consequences for others. But all the support staff of the show, all the directors of this and that and producers, are all extremely comfortable in front of the camera. Maybe too comfortable?

Winbush is constantly doubted by the people who chose her to direct a low-budget direct-to-streaming sci-fi flick. They talk about her behind her back and, most importantly, in front of the camera, and I thought she navigated her first-time directing duties with relative skill. Was she awkward? Sure, who wouldn’t be? But she was not two-faced, and I hope she never masters that corporate art.

Then there’s the matter of the movie itself, which is the primary plot of Project Greenlight. Winbush is given what seems to be an undercooked screenplay that wants to be Stranger Things meets Lady Bird, and Winbush eventually delivers Gray Matter, a perfectly adequate melodrama starring Jessica Frances Dukes and Mia Isaac as a mother and daughter with superpowers.

In Project Greenlight, Rae is joined by actor/comedian/writer Kumail Nanjiani and director Gina Prince-Bythewood, who we see briefly edit her soon-to-be-megahit historical action movie The Woman King. These three form a charming and supportive triumvirate who are too busy with their careers to offer regular help to Winbush. The show brightens whenever any of these mentors are on screen, but they’re more like Fairy Godmothers, and Winbush is eventually left to navigate step-siblings who mean well but can still be mean.

Whenever I’ve enjoyed a reality show (like anything Bravo produces), I am hungry for a steaming pile of cultural junk food. I’m not always craving people humiliating themselves for small beers, but I want backstabbing and vicious shit talk when I am. Project Greenlight isn’t a Bravo-style spectacle, but it also isn’t a thoughtful documentary. I felt that Winbush was set up to fail from the first episode, and it never seemed fair to me.

To be woke is to be aware of inequalities and injustices in America, a nation of great potential with a long history of denying certain citizens basic rights. It’s a simple idea easily corrupted by partisans who resist sharing their power with anyone… different from them. But wokeness is fairness, and reality TV is not fair. It is not honest. These shows are about the judgment of the shallowest people possible.

Evidence For: Issa Rae is clear from the get-go that her incarnation of Project Greenlight was dedicated to elevating marginalized talent, and she does this cheerfully and steadily.

Evidence Against: There is no way to create an entertaining reality show about equality that is equal. Sadly, no one would watch a show about competent creatives quietly and steadily collaborating on a project without all the low-stakes sturm und drang.

Verdict: Project Greenlight is woke, and Rae and the mentors seem genuinely committed to the conviction that the show should highlight nontraditional filmmakers. It’s just impossible to balance that with the needs of a reality television show that thrives on turning human beings into cartoon villains and heroes.

John DeVore is a sensitive and thoughtful writer living in New Woke City. His favorite movie is Fiddler On The Roof, followed by Hellraiser. Follow his politically-correct narcissism on Twitter.