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  • Village Voice

    Musto Fabulous!

    Our gossip columnist and noted fashion plate serves up a year's worth of unforgettable images.

    By Michael Musto

  • Phoenix New Times

    Meet the Anti-Christ

    Omar Call makes a pastime out of baiting Christians.

    By Niki D'Andrea

  • Miami New Times

    Hog Huntin'

    Lost art or horrible slaughter? It's all in the eye of the slayer.

    By Natalie O'Neill

Fox 4's Shawn Edwards isn't just a blurb whore

By Alan Scherstuhl

Published on April 01, 2008 at 4:12pm

On a cold Saturday evening in late February, a line snakes out of the Gem Theater and onto 18th Street. People wait in anxious knots. The rumor, passed from way up front: There's no room left. Volunteers dash in and out of the packed theater, bringing word of open seats to the crew at the doors; they squeeze in two or three more people accordingly.

Inside, the party is equal parts community and showbiz. As preshow entertainment for the premiere of his film No Joke: The Fifty Funniest Black Movie Comedies Ever, Shawn Edwards, the nationally known film critic for Kansas City's Fox 4 News, has lined up a dancer and a marching band as well as quick testimonials from City Council reps, comedians, Fox 4 management and black entrepreneurs.

Several presenters mention that Edwards and his Fox 4 partner, Russ Simmons, were recently honored by the Los Angeles Press Club as "Best Critics" in the television category of its first National Entertainment Journalism Awards. This stirs applause from the mostly African-American crowd. But the real excitement comes when Edwards' biggest coup strides out onto the stage: Nick Cannon, star of Drumline and host for the evening. Riffing about doing stand-up at a white club down south, Cannon scores big laughs; when he mentions that he's proud to be wearing an Obama pin, he brings down the house.

Next up is Edwards' film. Throughout it, the Gem shakes with laughter. Between clips from Edwards' one-on-one interviews with celebrities such as Will Smith and Denzel Washington, scenes from Stir Crazy, Coming to America and Madea's Family Reunion have the crowd laughing, cheering and — especially in the case of the Tyler Perry movies — speaking the punch lines along with the characters.

Shawn Edwards is a film critic, but he prefers the term "reviewer." At a screening like this, he seems something else: a film celebrant, a champion of movies unchampioned. He's responsible for two documentaries: this and last year's The 100 Best Black Movies Ever (click play below for the trailer). They were inspired by those American Film Institute lists of American movies — lists Edwards considers exclusive. The AFI's comedy list particularly incenses him.

"Are you really telling me that this entire list doesn't have one representation from Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy?" he asks. "They're arguably not only the most entertaining and popular but also the most influential comedians ever! Are you really trying to tell me that Friday couldn't make that list? Friday's universally loved!"

Edwards can get worked up talking about movies. "When Blockbuster stores were big, people would check out Friday and never bring it back. For that alone, it goes on the list — it's the most stolen DVD ever! It's the most never-brought-back DVD in the history of DVDs!"

This is Edwards, who often hears he might be a first. He tells The Pitch, "A lot of people are like, 'Oh, my God! He's the first black movie critic!' When I talk to older African-Americans, anyone 60-plus, it's like, 'We're so proud!'" He shakes his head, thinking: a black film critic. "When I was a kid, it was all Siskel and Ebert. I never even saw one, either."

A first. He chats with the stars, finds his name on full-page movie ads in The New York Times and The Los Angeles Times. He raises money for scholarships, inspires standing-room-only crowds to show up at 18th and Vine. Why in the world would anybody not like Shawn Edwards?


Why, just a couple of months before being named a "Best Critic," was he also named 2007's "Whore of the Year"? Edwards speaks in superlatives. Like most critics, his conversation reels through favorite movies, obscure titles and the names of who directed what. Unlike most, though, he's also big on industry dish: buzz, box-office numbers, the stuff he follows in Daily Variety and The Hollywood Reporter.

His casual conversation purls up into blurbs ready for the ads in some alternative universe. There is that riff on Friday's status among thieves, for example, or when he jokes, "You know what the most realistic movie about military existence is? Stripes."

Of When the Levees Break, Spike Lee's wrenching Hurricane Katrina documentary: "One of the most powerful movies I've ever seen. I had to stop watching because I would break down and start crying."

That last one is dead-serious, but he means all three. He feels all three. But when you speak in superlatives, the ones you feel most hardly stand out from the rest.

When Edwards gushes professionally, these superlatives wind up in ads. Sometimes, when a movie he likes is widely panned, he's the only critic quoted, as in a full-page New York Times ad in Febru­ary for Martin Lawrence's Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins. His assessment — "Totally hilarious!" — took up a quarter-page. The attribution that follows, in tinier print: "Shawn Edwards, FOX-TV."

The ad left out "Kansas City."

When he champions a movie that other critics hate, Edwards takes heat. His detractors include other critics (often posting online) as well as Variety editor Timothy Gray, who lists Edwards in his annual round-ups of outrageous "blurbmeisters."

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