Last month's Academy Awards caught quite a bit of flack for the lack of black actors nominated. And by "lack of", I mean none, as a controversial New York Times article opined. While prior years have found actors and actresses like Forest Whitaker, Jamie Foxx, Denzel Washington, and Halle Berry among the list of nominees, this years Oscars were about as diverse as a Tea Party rally. Many people noted the snub of Tyler Perry's 'For Colored Girls' as proof that Hollywood still hasn't turned the corner in "postracial" America, and that the Academy Awards are still a segregated affair in which movies portraying the African American experience are seldom allowed inclusion.

If there's a black actor who's quietly making power moves in mainstream Hollywood releases, it would be the underrated Anthony Mackie. The New Orleans native's filmography includes a staggering 32 titles in the past 10 years. He's probably best known to black filmgoers for his role as Papa Doc in Eminem's biopic '8 Mile,' or maybe for his miscast take on Tupac Shakur in 'Notorious.' But Mackie really hit the Hollywood jackpot for his gripping portrayal of a solidier in 2008's 'The Hurt Locker,' a film which walked away with an Oscar for Best Motion Picture. He recently landed one of the coveted spots on the cover of Vanity Fair's annual Hollywood issue, and now finds himself alongside Matt Damon in the romantic thriller 'The Adjustment Bureau,' opening this weekend. If there's a young brother qualified to speak on the state of the film industry, it would be Mackie.

Anthony Mackie, one of the stars of the new film The Adjustment Bureau, which opens in theaters next Friday, March 4, didn't hold back in a recent interview with theGrio.

Mackie, who can be seen on the cover of Vanity Fair's annual 'Hollywood' issue, said all of the barriers in Hollywood for African-Americans have been broken.

"I think right now [blacks] are being kinda lazy on our game," Mackie said. "There are enough brothers with distribution deals and production deals where we should be making our own movies."

Mackie, who starred as Tupac Shakur in 2009's Notorious, said there is no shortage of black directors, writers or stars.

"Oprah got her own network," Mackie said. "Michael Jordan own a franchise. We got black money. So there's no reason why we shouldn't be able to tell the stories that we want to tell and portray ourselves the way we want to be portrayed.

It would be easy to dismiss Mackie's critique as that of a selfish guy who's just blabbing and out to get his, but considered in the context of the increasing power of blacks in Hollywood, it makes sense.

Mackie is essentially saying that instead of sitting around and waiting for Hollywood to greenlight the movies that black people as supposedly clamoring for, those blacks with power and money should step up to the plate and do it themselves. There's not really anything controversial or demeaning about that. It's the same sentiment you'll hear echoed by directors like Tyler Perry, Spike Lee, and John Singleton. And for the record, it has already been done. Lee has gotten outside financing for many of his films, and Oprah has contributed to movies herself. Will Smith also produces films, with a new version of Annie starring his daughter Willow in the works.

On the flipside, I can understand why Mackie might come across as a bit shortsighted. Financing and making your own film is one thing. Actually getting it distributed in enough theaters to make the whole thing financially viable is yet another. That doesn't merely require money -- it actually requires power, which is something that sadly many high profile blacks in Hollywood still don't really have. Will Smith has starred in films that have grossed billions, but even he can't get a film in theaters without the approval of the truly powerful at MGM, Universal, or Paramount. Problems with physical distribution are why lots of good black movies languish in no man's land before magically appearing as DVD releases. It's just not that simple. Mackie, who has starred in his share of black-themed movies that failed to make a commercial impact, should know this.

Besides, I'm much more concerned about the quality of the films than who's financing and directing them. Perry's ham-handed adaptation of 'For Colored Girls' didn't deserve an Oscar nomination. While his attempt at creating a drama that didn't involve a man in drag was laudable, the net result was still yet another a lousy film. And then there's the simple matter of supply and demand. If black audiences continue to support Madea, while passing over great films like 'Akeelah and the Bee,' 'Precious,' and 'Hotel Rwanda,' it sends an undeniable message to Hollywood, which is, as always, about the bottom line.

Money talks. Hand wringing about the sad state of Black Hollywood walks. We won't get any further unless the African American power brokers we do have work harder to create the distribution networks that will make black films a financially viable enterprise, independently of the Hollywood distro system. Are they up to that?