Five Films

by Dax-Devlon Ross


Growing up we were latch-key kids. When we got home from school we had free reign to do whatever we pleased. We threw our backpacks into the closet, opened the fridge, turned on the television and let the day unravel. We flipped between BET’s Rap City, Yo!MTV Raps and Video Jukebox. We called girls and nuked popcorn. Played Mike Tyson’s Punchout, Double Dribble and Tecmo Bowl. And then Come Fly With Me came into our lives. As far as we were concerned Come Fly With Me set a new standard for cinema. By ‘89, ‘90 Michael Jordan was the undisputed HNIC (Head Nigga In Charge). He hadn’t won a ring yet, but he’d captured the imagination of every kid, in every playground, in every corner of the world. We didn’t know or care then that he was quickly becoming the most prolific exporter of the new global capitalism. We just knew he could fly, and we couldn’t get enough of seeing him do it. He blended Dr. J’s sweeping grace with Magic’s improvisational artistry to create something entirely new, something that has yet to be surpassed. We studied Come Fly With Me in each other’s basements like it was homework. We’d stop the tape, rewind it, fast forward it, pause it in the middle of the famous foul line dunk and just go crazy. “Do you see this? This is insane! The man is flying through the air! And it’s so pretty. So pretty.”

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