The Mayan Theater, like much of downtown Los Angeles, has been out of commission.
Since March, the historic movie palace and concert venue has sat dark and lifeless, the victim of a pandemic that stripped away large indoor gatherings. But on a recent September evening, under the cover of a darkening late summer sky, its parking lot welcomed something that disappeared last winter: an audience.
“There's so much incredible Black cinema, and we wanted to showcase it in a way that's safe.”
— Zoe Lubeck
First, half a dozen people in black t-shirts arrive at the theater’s normally deserted lot with a film projector and a pick-up truck. Soon after, a bright white square lights up the blank side wall of the Mayan with two words: Project Pro<ject.
As night falls, headlights and car engines fill the space with light and sound. The makeshift drive-in is soon illuminated by a striking and immediately recognizable image — a poster for Marvel's "Black Panther." Above the towering king standing atop a roaring metallic panther, are these words: "REST IN POWER, CHADWICK BOSEMAN."
"LONG LIVE THE KING."
For months, the rebuilt heart of Los Angeles sat largely dormant, save for a summer of social strife in response to police shootings of unarmed Black people. Many windows remained boarded up as a protective response to the marches and some violent offshoots. Performances with audiences and movie screenings came to an end when city, county and state authorities banned them until further notice. Collective experiences, outside of protests, have since been out of reach.
Tonight, that is going to change.
The Mayan Theater on Hill Street was home to a screening of "Black Panther" and a tribute to its lead actor, Chadwick Boseman, in September.
One by one, rappers, singers and poets take the "stage" to pay tribute to Boseman, the fallen African American movie star, and everything his inspiring roles have embodied. That is, they each stand on the concrete parking lot in front of the cars — masked and distanced — and perform. The microphone is connected to an AM/FM audio frequency so the audience can tune in on their car stereos.
After each artist finishes, car horns honk in applause.
Following the performances, the space grows quiet before the screen lights up again against the urgent soundtrack of Childish Gambino’s "Redbone." The chilling music plays as a series of images, paintings and photographs from Black artists flood the movie-screen sized wall, boldly announcing the organization's messages:
"Defund the police"
"Black Lives Matter"
"Justice for George Floyd"
"Power to the people"
Zoe Lubeck and Kennya Rivera are two members of Project Pro<ject, the non-profit putting on the show. (The less-sign in its name is not pronounced). They smile as the film screens in front of the idling cars, enjoying the notes of enthusiasm for T’Challa’s adventure. This was the organization’s sixth outdoor film screening in as many weeks — the Mayan was one of four locations used around downtown.
"This whole thing actually started out really small," Lubeck says. "We began with something like 40 cars, and now here we are with, what, 150?"
"It's vital to keep storytelling alive during a time like this."
— Jayda Imanlihen
Project Pro<ject was established in June, at a peak in the pandemic and in the midst of fierce protests following the killings of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. The goal of the events was to serve as a portable installation that elevates artists of color and pays tribute to victims of police violence against Blacks.
"Everything we do is tailored to the messages and demands of the Black Lives Matter movement," Lubeck explains.
The project has since grown into a vehicle for social change, artistic expression and, now, the collective experience of watching films. Previous selections included “Get Out,” “Blackkklansman,” and “Moonlight.”
"There’s so much incredible Black cinema, and we wanted to showcase it in a way that’s safe because going to a physical theater is out of the question. It’s another way of protesting."
Audience members flash headlights and honk horns in appreciation during the show.
This week's event would fundraise for Black Girl Film School, an organization dedicated to cultivating African American female creators and empowering them to achieve positions of leadership in the industry.
Jayda Imanlihen is the organization’s founder. She said the pandemic has, by necessity, led to innovation and creativity.
"It's vital to keep storytelling alive during a time like this," she said over the phone, reflecting on the ways Project Pro<ject's mission overlaps with her own. "It shows us that everyone is experiencing this pandemic and navigating it in different ways. It connects us."
During a fight sequence on screen, a new eruption of horned applause spurs Rivera to glance at the crowd behind her and smile once again.
"It’s heartwarming and rejuvenating to see this in a time when we’re so disconnected. Like so many others in the movie business, we’ve had to get creative to make an experience like this possible," she says. "A lot of us are freelancers in the industry, so it opens my mind and makes me think of other ways we could save it."
Project Project's events this summer were free, but donations helped cover costs such as rented equipment and event spaces.
Two filmmakers prepare to watch their film, "An Act of Terror," at the short films night.
The dormant Mayan theater's marquee echoes the sentiment of dozens of creative arts organizations during the pandemic.
Project Pro<ject sets up in a parking lot on Flower Street in Downtown Los Angeles just before showtime.
The combination of a halted theater business, a largely deserted downtown and an overall longing for collective expression by filmmakers of color forged a space for Project Pro<ject. Drive-ins and other outdoor, physically-distanced affairs stand in now for the communal experiences that COVID-19 snatched away.
When movie theaters were ordered to shut down in March, it raised existential questions for a multi-billion dollar industry. Movie studios yanked flagship films from theaters and shuffled their release schedules, sending many projects straight to streaming and on-demand services. Independent exhibitors and large chains alike have remained in hibernation for months in much of the country, leaving them to question the feasibility of staying afloat, even after the pandemic subsides. The yearly domestic box office is down 78% from this time last year, despite the reopening of movie theaters in several states.
Ellene Miles, Senior Vice President of Intersectional Marketing at Sony Pictures, said she has never witnessed such a level of uncertainty in the industry.
Miles specializes in multicultural marketing, working with studio executives to reach diverse audiences, including people of color, women and members of the LGBTQ+ community. But as of late, she said she hasn’t had much content to advertise.
"I represent the communities that are most adversely affected by the pandemic — economically and in terms of mortality rates. So it’s a really tough spot,” she said. “We're in a new paradigm where moviegoing is being challenged. Theaters have done an amazing job with their safety measures, but I understand it may be some time before everyone feels especially secure in those spaces. My team is always keen to be sensitive to that."
The pandemic’s ripples reach into many corners of the industry, from acquisition to production to distribution. The suspension of creative endeavors affects not only film studios and theater owners, but every artist and filmmaker using their voices to generate social change.
“Creating art has given me purpose to now amplify other people's voices.”
— Etienne Maurice
Etienne Maurice, a filmmaker, actor and CEO of WalkGood Productions, has been working tirelessly throughout the pandemic — taking advantage of the current moment to advocate for Black Lives Matter and political awareness about police abuse.
"We’re living in very violent times," he said. "A remedy to the atrocities we’re facing, or an answer to what we’re experiencing in real life, has always been art. Content creators and filmmakers are at home creating art that is reflective of what’s going on right now. But the problem is, how are people going to view that art?"
Like the creators of Project Pro<ject, Maurice devotes his time to the dual goal of keeping cinematic storytelling alive and advancing social movements. In October, WalkGoodLA teamed up with Project Pro<ject for an event called Break Down the Ballot, aimed at providing the LA community with civic education and empowerment.
"This pandemic has helped me as an artist [and activist]. Creating art has given me purpose to now amplify other people's voices."
Maurice’s organization also held its own screening of “Black Panther” in LA High Memorial park.
"Given the fact that we can no longer go to the movies anymore, there needs to be a lot more support in finding alternative ways to display storytelling," he said. "It’s important because at the end of the day, films and media are not so much of an escape. They’re a reflection of reality — and that’s really beautiful."
Audio Stories
Ellene Miles
Etienne Maurice
Just weeks after the "Black Panther" screening, members of Project Pro<ject went to work planning their most ambitious project yet, and one of their last for the time being. At a new location, Lubeck and her cohorts attempted to recreate the excitement of a film festival.
Of course, it’s hard to imagine LA without a proper festival season. Like all sectors of the industry, film festivals have canceled or reimagined their plans. In September, Project Pro<ject sent out a call for short film submissions by Black filmmakers.
One of those creatives was Rraine Hanson. She works as a freelancer in the industry for set decoration and art design. She also creates short films, one of which, "The Divine Femmunity", was selected to screen at Project Pro<ject’s shorts night.
"That film is most representative of my artistic voice," she said. "It’s about my home island [of Jamaica], and it’s so distinctly relevant to me."
Hanson’s film, along with 12 others centered around Black stories and filmmakers, were screened at the shorts night on a new blank wall in downtown — nestled between skyscrapers and less than half a mile from the Staples Center. She said it was incredible to see her film in such a setting.
Following the short film screenings, filmmakers took questions from the audience about their creative process and the thematic undertones of their work.
Like so many other creative people and social justice advocates, Hanson is navigating new waters in an unprecedented time.
The team at Project Pro<ject understands that. It’s why they’ve worked so hard to bring a sense of normalcy to those who miss the collective, restorative experience of watching films together.
“The shared experience is so beautiful… and I think anyone that gets the power of that and wants to harness it for good and for awareness is hitting two balls out of the park at once,” Miles said.
"You’re providing art with activism and an opportunity to have voices heard. These are times when silence isn’t going to be enough."