Ryan Coogler On His Production Company, Being ‘Underrated,’ and Collaborating With Steph Curry

Ryan Coogler is a generational talent who dances in the sweet spot between fame and mystery with unparalleled grace.

His work has been massively successful since he burst onto the scene a decade ago, bringing the life of the late Oscar Grant to the big screen in Fruitvale Station and turning the Marvel world on its head with the box office hit and cultural landmark Black Panther. He creates the type of cinematic magic that few others are able to achieve while remaining 100 percent authentic and breaking free of the boxes Black directors are often relegated to.

Coogler is a phenomenon. And though we don’t know where he hangs out or what he eats for breakfast—he is famously private—whenever he opens his mouth, a touch of home spills out. He is a star that remains so familial and within reach that every project he creates feels specially made for us all.

His latest venture, producing Underrated, a documentary on four-time NBA champion Stephen Curry, is a love letter to dreamers and an in-depth look at what it takes to achieve greatness. It isn’t an unlikely partnership between Curry and Coogler, as the former plays for the latter’s beloved hometown basketball team, and the story is a hero’s journey, which Coogler is adept at telling.

See, it doesn’t matter if the subject is a sports giant or a comic book warrior; what matters is that the 37-year-old filmmaker sees the value in their stories and knows audiences will, too.

So far, Coogler hasn’t been wrong.

BLACK ENTERPRISE caught up with Coogler to talk being “underrated,” proving the doubters wrong, and what he feels he has in common with Stephen Curry.

BLACK ENTERPRISE: I want to start by taking a second to look at the connection between filmmakers and athletes. What do you think drives that mutual respect between the two?

Ryan Coogler: I grew up as an athlete, and I’m probably just now getting to a point in my career where I’ve been a filmmaker longer than I was an athlete, so I still see myself identity-wise as both things. Even though I never played professionally, it was how I related to the world. There’s a lot of crossover in terms of performance and the aspect of spectatorship. People come to watch what filmmakers do the same way they come to watch a great athlete put on a show. There’s a level of expected entertainment there. And there’s a level of unpredictability that sports have that’s hard to rival when it comes to making films the way I do. But a lot of filmmakers are huge sports fans; the first one who comes to mind is Spike [Lee].

What, outside of the Oakland connection, drew you to this part of Steph’s career journey?

It was the spirit of collaboration. They reached out to me and extended the offer for my company, Proximity Media, to come on as partners. Their mantra at Unanimous is “purpose over profit.” They want to tell inspiring stories and it’s not that dissimilar to us at Proximity. What we want to do is bring audiences in closer proximity to subject matters that are often overlooked through the vehicle of eventized entertainment. We want our films, TV projects, and podcasts to be events when they’re released.

Our head of nonfiction is a guy named Pete Nicks, who is also an incredible cinema verité director. He’d done three projects set in Oakland, and when this project came along we offered him up as a directing option to Erick [Peyton] and Steph. Thankfully, they were on board with it. Things just lined up and it became a great opportunity for us.

Let’s talk about the beauty of being underrated. As a Black filmmaker, how do you relate to that?

I definitely can. Truthfully, I think anyone can relate. That gap between what is and what someone has projected onto you or not projected onto you. When things don’t match up, that’s when you feel that sense of being underrated. It’s definitely an experience that overlaps with Blackness in this country. People can look at you and see less than what’s actually there. That extends to being Black doing anything, but definitely in the film industry you’ll see those limiting beliefs around what Black films can make or how much should be invested into them. It’s not unique to us, though; it’s a human concept.

In the documentary, the chip that formed on Steph’s shoulder was about proving himself right and less about proving others wrong. It seems like you’ve done the same with how intentional you are about the work you create. Can you speak to using that as inspiration rather than a weight you carry?

That’s a great observation. This film is about the power of being seen and what can happen when communities, mentors, and families can uplift people when they actually see what’s there and work in service to that rather than what’s not there. For me, and I know for Steph too, that chip on the shoulder is never more important than the heart that’s within, you know what I mean?

Those people who support you are who feed the heart. More than anything, Steph is trying to honor the people who invested in him. As opposed to proving the doubters wrong, he’s trying to bring pride to his family. He’s trying to bring pride to Davidson. He’s trying to bring pride to his kids. And bring pride to the community around the Warriors because they’ve poured so much love into him. People on the outside may see the chip, but that’s centralizing the negative people.

I think Steph does a good job of centralizing the people who mean the most to him, who are speaking love into him. The two most powerful things you can do is either tune them out or use them as motivation. Sometimes the negative motivation is given too much attention. But Steph is looking at his wife, he’s looking at his teammates. He’s focused on what matters. I try to do the same.

Steph has taken “underrated” and turned it into a purpose for motivating others who are coming behind him. You’ve passed on the reins to other young directors who look like you. How much of your story do you feel mirrors that of the best shooter in the world?

There are some mirrors, but there are some differences. Definitely there’s a mirror in terms of us both having community. I had a family that was supportive of what I was trying to do, no matter how unlikely it was. One of the biggest differences, and what I think is interesting, is that I don’t know that I would have been a filmmaker if my father was a filmmaker. The fact that Steph’s father was a really successful NBA player and specifically good at shooting the three—it says a lot about him that he would go about carving out his own path. And then he exceeded what his father was able to do. It takes a special kind of person to do that. To shoot for something and then shoot past it. Even when it wasn’t guaranteed.