Los Angeles Times - 27.08.2019

LATIMES.COM/CALENDAR TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2019E3

Behind the camera, the
statistics were just as bad.
Of the 1,200 films examined,
just 4% had Latinx direc-
tors. Of those, 71% hailed
from outside the U.S. and
29% of them were American.
Just one director of the 1,335
studied was Latina. (Latinx
is a gender-neutral alterna-
tive to Latino or Latina.)
Among producers, just
3% were Latinx, with the
majority being men — only
19 of them were Latina. Lat-
inx casting directors were
also rare. The few films that
do have Latinx directors,
producers and casting direc-
tors also have greater repre-
sentation of Latinx charac-
ters on-screen.
“The Latino community
has not been prioritized, and
it is imperative that we
shed light on the glaring re-
ality of Latino representa-
tion in film,” said Benjamin
Lopez, executive director
of the National Assn. of Lat-
ino Independent Producers.
“Dr. Smith’s research must
guide decision-makers to
the conclusion that there is
immense value in collabo-
rating with and investing in
the Latino community.”
Stereotypical portrayals

of the Latinx community

also abound. Across 200

films examined, approxi-

mately 25% of Latinx speak-

ing characters were depicted

as criminals and 17% were

portrayed as poor or low in-

come. Thirty-six percent of

all Latinx speaking charac-

ters and 60% of top-billed

Latinx actors were depicted

separately from a larger

Latinx community, which

translates to a lack of cul-

tural artifacts, traditions

and other signifiers that

might showcase the charac-

ters’ ethnicity.

“The erasure of the Lat-

ino community in film cre-

ates a void that has been

allowed to be filled by hateful

and violent rhetoric,” said

Mauricio Mota, co-president

of Wise Entertainment, an

indie studio that services

Latinx stories. “It is impera-

tive that the talented story-

tellers from our community

are given opportunities to

tell the diverse and vibrant

narratives of the Latino

audience.”

Although roughly half of

Latinx leads or co-leads

were women, five of the 17

lead actress roles in the mov-

ies studied were played by

Cameron Diaz. None of the

films she starred in hinted at

her Latinx heritage.

Of the 100 top-grossing

films of 2018, 47 lacked a

speaking or named charac-

ter of Latino descent, and 70

lacked Latinas.

In fact, 568 of the 1,200

movies studied did not fea-

ture even one Latinx charac-

ter and 828 lacked Latinas.

Additionally, 95 of the top 100

pictures of 2019 did not fea-

ture a Latinx character with

a disability and 98 were ab-

sent of Latinx characters

from the LGBTQ communi-

ty.

USC Annenberg expects

to release its fuller annual

report examining diversity

and inequality in Holly-

wood’s on-screen por-

trayals soon.

“DORA and the Lost City of Gold” features Latinx characters and actors. Among

the cast: Madeleine Madden, left, Eugenio Derbez, Isabela Moner, Jeff Wahlberg.

Vince ValituttiParamount Pictures

Latinos are underrepresented in films, study finds

CAMERON DIAZis of Latinx heritage, but none

of her lead roles in films in a USC study hint at that.

Barry Wetcher20th Century Fox

[Latinos, from E1]

away when the event was
canceled due to overcrowd-
ing.
Weist took a public and
private beating: He lost so
much money from the fiasco
that his company, Good
Times Entertainment, was
forced to declare bank-
ruptcy last October. But al-
most all of this turmoil un-
folded after the cameras had
stopped rolling on “Jawline,”
the just-released Hulu
documentary in which Weist
is one of the main charac-
ters. The film, directed by
newcomer Liza Mandelup, is
a deep dive into the world of
social media fame. Much of
the story is focused on
Austyn Tester, a 15-year-old
from rural Tennessee who
spends his days uploading
videos to YouNow in the
hopes of becoming a star.
But the other part of the
tale unfolds in Los Angeles,
where Weist is operating his
company out of a rented
Laurel Canyon mansion
that he shares with a few of
his young male clients. Man-
delup captures him mixing
business and pleasure, one
day shopping with Barone
on Rodeo Drive, the next in
the house berating Barone
for starting a video with a
gender pronoun that he felt
would alienate male fans.
“He can come off as harsh
at times, but I do feel like he’s
a really good person,” said
Mandelup, who met Weist at
VidCon in 2016 and began
filming him shortly after.
“It’s the aggressive nature of
how much he wants to be a
businessman that makes
him extremely cutthroat. He
can be almost cold, at times,
but I don’t think that’s actu-
ally who he is.”

Early ambitions

Weist began dreaming of
making it big as a teenager
growing up in Nashville. His
mother was the real estate
agent for the Kings of Leon,
and he used the connection
to start DJing for the band at
private events and on tour.
He was 17 and simulta-
neously spending a lot of his
time on the now-defunct app
Vine. One day while scrolling
through 7-second videos, he
noticed how many fans were
commenting that they’d love
to meet their favorite Vine
stars in person.
“I thought: ‘What if I DJ
for social media stars?’ ”
said Weist, now happily
drinking sparkling water
with lime. “I thought I’d do
an event called ‘Party With
the Viners’ where I DJ’d and
got their fans to come. I put
it online and we had $30,000
worth of tickets sold out in
30 seconds.”
The event was a success,
so he began hosting more,
and at 17, he’d already made
six figures and bought a
Cadillac with cash. Still, he

decided to attend college,

studying music business

and entrepreneurship at

Belmont University. But he

wasn’t pleased with the edu-

cation he was getting for his

money. “These teachers

were telling us how to get

verified online and I was like,

‘Have you ever even sat

down with Instagram? Be-

cause I have, and what

you’re saying is not making

sense,’ ” he recalled. “ ‘You

should not be teaching me. I

should be teaching you.’ I

told that to one of their faces,

and it did not work out well. I

was like, ‘Thank you for

helping me realize that I can

learn nothing from this.’ ”

So as a sophomore he

dropped out and decamped

to L.A., living out of the W

Hollywood for a few months

until he could find his own

place. He would direct-mes-

sage potential clients on In-

stagram, asking if they were

seeking representation and

telling them how he could

package their content “with

a bow and sell it.” As his

business grew, he estab-

lished minimums: Weist

won’t work with anyone who

doesn’t have 10% engage-

ment. In other words, if you

have 100,000 followers, each

one of your posts needs to

have 10,000 likes.

“I’ve sat down with Insta-

gram many times and asked,

‘What are the keys? What

can we do to help provide a

level of authenticity and

some kind of quality control

in this industry?’ ” Weist ex-

plained. “If everybody is fa-

mous, nobody is famous. If

Influencer A goes to Nike

and says I’ll do it for $1,000,

why the [hell] is Nike gonna

give Influencer B $100,000 to

do the same thing? They’re

not.”

He also pays a lot of at-

tention to the comments.

How authentic and passion-

ate do someone’s fans seem?

These days, Weist says, peo-

ple can easily spend $100 and

gain a couple of thousand

followers — he boasts that

even he can easily hack an

Instagram algorithm and

grow a follower count by

50,000 in a day.

Stats-focused

Mandelup describes him

as a “numbers guy.” In one

particularly brusque mo-

ment in “Jawline,” he looks

at Tester’s social media page

and declares he wouldn’t

touch him because of his low

stats.

“I wasn’t hurt by that at

all,” said Tester, now 18, over

the phone. “Michael is a

manager, and he does this

not only because he loves it,

but also because he wants to

make money. My following

at the time — why would

Michael pick up me and try

to make money from me? I

didn’t have a lot of followers.

It would be kind of a waste of

money. It’s business, I didn’t

take it personal.”

Even though numbers

are still important to Weist,

he said the chaos of the last

few years has caused him to

reevaluate his business

strategy. In January he

launched a new company,

Juice Krate Media Group,

which is more interested in

working with content crea-

tors — a.k.a. people who

make their own music or film

— instead of influencers

with pretty faces.

“The demographic we’re

selling to is 13- to 17-year-old

girls, frankly,” said Weist,

whose company charges a

20% cut. “And these girls are

seeking something that they

don’t have in their lives

through social media,

whether that’s comfort or af-

firmation or validation. And

we’re capitalizing on it.

Whether you choose to think

that’s good or bad, we’re pro-

viding love and comfort to

these girls.

“I talk to my clients a lot

about it because it can be a

lot of pressure. If a little girl

DMs you one day, ‘I’m gonna

kill myself if you don’t DM

me back,’ No. 1, that’s

[messed] up — how dare you

put that on someone else?

But then you have this ethi-

cal responsibility you never

knew you had, because you

become a therapist for your

2 million followers.”

Mandelup observed this

firsthand, acknowledging

she was shocked by the “life

or death” stakes behind

something so seemingly va-

pid. Many young women in

Gen Z, she said, look to live

broadcasters to express feel-

ings that boys at their

schools were uninterested

in. “These boys online have

leaned into that and created

this fantasy for these girls,”

the filmmaker said. “And it’s

simulated intimacy. When

you were following a celebri-

ty back in the day, you

wished you knew them, but

you didn’t. Now girls are con-

fused because they’re like, ‘I

don’t know him, but I know

him.’ It’s because these boys

have given them what they

feel like is true access to who

they are and they’re selling

the idea of ‘live my life with

me, share it with me.’ ”

It’s a lot of responsibility,

Weist said, and why critics

shouldn’t underestimate

the work that goes into being

an influencer.

“There is never an off

switch,” he said. “Turning on

that camera for an hour can

be challenging, because you

don’t know what they’ve had

to deal with all day long in

their DMs and mentions.

And as soon as you go in

public, there’s fans asking to

take a picture with you.

Don’t get me wrong, I think

it is better than a lot of work

out there. But you do have a

ton of pressure. You have to

make content and edit and

re-film a thousand times if

you mess up and curate your

image.”

As for his own image,

Weist insisted he’s learned a

lot since the TanaCon fall-

out, going to therapy and

even getting a post-trauma-

tic stress diagnosis.

“It took me a little while

to cope with it,” he acknowl-

edged. “It happened and it

sucked, don’t get me wrong.

But it happened for a rea-

son. I think that reason was

for me to learn from it. I have

become so much more

knowledgeable and experi-

enced. I’ve been through a

bankruptcy. That’s not easy.

I don’t like to talk about it,

because it’s not who I am

anymore or what I’m about,

but it’s part of my story and

it has made me who I am to-

day for sure.”

That attitude doesn’t ex-

actly surprise Mandelup,

who never knew Weist as one

to drown in his sorrows.

“There’s something

about growing up in this

space that gives you a thick

skin,” she said. “Of course he

rebounded from this

quickly. This is his genera-

tion.”

MICHAEL Weist, 23, one of the main subjects in “Jawline,” has been helping steer the careers of online influencers since his late teens.

Mel MelconLos Angeles Times

AUSTYNTester is among the social media figures seen in the new documentary.

Hulu

Talent

for

social

in a big

way

[‘Jawline,’from E1]

‘Jawline’

Where:Hulu

When:Any time

Rated: TV-MA (may be

unsuitable for children

under the age of 17)