What do the films Blacula (1972) and Get Out (2017) have in common? You might say they are both Black-led horror films. Or that they both were directed by Black men. You would be right in both statements, after all. However, both of these films also initiated a shift, a renaissance, if you will, in the Black horror subgenre. With recent releases such as The Front Room, Imaginary, and The Deliverance, it is evident that we need another Black horror renaissance.
The Black horror subgenre serves as an escape from the real horrors surrounding us. It allows us to establish control a sense of control. We get to see ourselves win when it doesn’t seem like we will in our real lives. At a time when our country is in literal shambles due to the recent election, we need that escape more than ever. As a Black woman with daughters and a sister who is a Black trans woman, escapism is something I crave. Honestly, I deserve it. I am tired.
So, when I watch a film like The Front Room led by a Black woman with a white husband who doesn’t see her or respect her, and a white mother-in-law who is racist, belittling, and literally shitty (which the Black lead has to clean up because that is what we do), I’m wondering why I am even here for the actual shit show that it is.
How Did We Get Here?
Spider Baby (1967) is said to be the first horror film to introduce “the Black guy dies first” trope. If you’ve never seen it, it’s about a family of inbred, cannibalistic killers. They have a degenerative mental illness that drives them insane as they get older. And their first on-screen kill? Yup, the Black mailman that was trying to help. The after-effects of such a display in film have carried through to today. So much so that we still find it shocking to see a Black character survive a horror film.
1968 was a year of firsts because another horror film was released that year with a Black man who not only made it past the opening scene, he smacked a white man across the face and made it to the very end of the film–only to be killed by a white mob. Night of the Living Dead was more than just another zombie film. It pushed the boundaries, causing a cultural shift in cinema that led us into the Blaxploitation era.
A Very Brief History Lesson
In the early 1970s, Blaxploitation films gave voice to our stories in a way that hadn’t been seen before. The films were a culmination of Black culture and social issues within the Black community. Blacula (1972), directed by William Craine, is about a Black man who sought out Dracula to end the slave trade, only to be turned into a vampire himself. The following year, the Blaxploitation standout Ganja and Hess was released. On the surface, the film’s plot is about a Black anthropologist who falls in love with his assistant’s widow after he is turned into a vampire. However, many other themes are woven into the narrative threads that are brought out fully because, like Blacula and other films during this era (Abby, Sugar Hill, Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde), there were Black creatives behind the camera.
By the end of the 70s, Blaxploitation films began tapering off into the ether. However, they left behind a lasting impact on Black horror, which we can see the influences of in films like Tales from the Hood (1995) and Bones (2001). Where Blaxploitation films were infused with funk and fashion, these films not only featured hip-hop music but the artists themselves. This only further connected the horror stories to their intended audiences. Black horror curates the status of the times and culture and flips it on its head to ignite fear that only we can understand and identify with.
The Filmmakers Who Understood The Assignment
Filmmakers like Bill Gun and William Craine understood that only we, those who have the lived experience to back it up, can take these stories where they need to go. This is why I get goosebumps when I see the camera pan over the gold framed photo of Daniel Kaluuya’s character, Chris, in Get Out (2017). Or why I understood Teyonah Parris’ character, Brianna in Candyman (2021) when she looked down at the basement stairs and said, “Nope!” It’s culture. It’s us.
Is This Year Saying The Quiet Part Out Loud?
The horror genre is becoming more inclusive, a truer reflection of the people of the world. Except for when it comes to Black folks. Imaginary featured a Black woman who faced an evil presence from her childhood rooted in an imaginary world. Jessica (DeWanda Wise) was the stepmother of two children. Meanwhile, her husband, who is white, was barely there to help her. In The Front Room, Belinda (Brandy Norwood) portrayed a mother who took in her widowed mother-in-law. A woman who just so happened to be racist and crazy as hell. Her husband was not worth the screen time he was given, which is an ongoing trend.
House of Spoils tells the story of a chef who dreams of opening a restaurant but ends up battling an unknown evil connected to the garden she uses to grow produce. Chef (Ariana DeBose) is angry and downright mean at times to those in her kitchen. However, there are no answers to why she is such a hard-ass. Her character is as flat as paper, much like the film’s plot. Out of the almost 200 horror films and a handful of shows released this year. Only Them: The Scare, Mr. Crocket, and The Deliverance featured primarily Black casts and were written and directed by Black filmmakers. Casting a Black lead is not enough, especially when it feels forced and performative.
What We Really Need…
Our ties to horror run deep. Black folklore goes back to our Southern roots and beyond, all the way to Africa. We got a taste of this in Abby (1974), and it was a beautiful thing to see. Black horror goes beyond racism and how others have used our Blackness against us. Putting our narratives in the hands of Black creatives allows for authentic representation of our beauty, culture, and fears.
In the documentary Horror Noire, Jordan Peele said the fact that there is “such a small handful of films led by Black people,” is “the horror itself.” It is going to take a renaissance to put an end to these films that don’t even attempt to get it right when it comes to telling our stories. However, during this moment, when the world around us is burning, we need it.
It’s Time for Another Black Horror Renaissance
What do the films Blacula (1972) and Get Out (2017) have in common? You might say they are both Black-led horror films. Or that they both were directed by Black men. You would be right in both statements, after all. However, both of these films also initiated a shift, a renaissance, if you will, in the Black horror subgenre. With recent releases such as The Front Room, Imaginary, and The Deliverance, it is evident that we need another Black horror renaissance.
The Black horror subgenre serves as an escape from the real horrors surrounding us. It allows us to establish control a sense of control. We get to see ourselves win when it doesn’t seem like we will in our real lives. At a time when our country is in literal shambles due to the recent election, we need that escape more than ever. As a Black woman with daughters and a sister who is a Black trans woman, escapism is something I crave. Honestly, I deserve it. I am tired.
So, when I watch a film like The Front Room led by a Black woman with a white husband who doesn’t see her or respect her, and a white mother-in-law who is racist, belittling, and literally shitty (which the Black lead has to clean up because that is what we do), I’m wondering why I am even here for the actual shit show that it is.
How Did We Get Here?
Spider Baby (1967) is said to be the first horror film to introduce “the Black guy dies first” trope. If you’ve never seen it, it’s about a family of inbred, cannibalistic killers. They have a degenerative mental illness that drives them insane as they get older. And their first on-screen kill? Yup, the Black mailman that was trying to help. The after-effects of such a display in film have carried through to today. So much so that we still find it shocking to see a Black character survive a horror film.
1968 was a year of firsts because another horror film was released that year with a Black man who not only made it past the opening scene, he smacked a white man across the face and made it to the very end of the film–only to be killed by a white mob. Night of the Living Dead was more than just another zombie film. It pushed the boundaries, causing a cultural shift in cinema that led us into the Blaxploitation era.
A Very Brief History Lesson
In the early 1970s, Blaxploitation films gave voice to our stories in a way that hadn’t been seen before. The films were a culmination of Black culture and social issues within the Black community. Blacula (1972), directed by William Craine, is about a Black man who sought out Dracula to end the slave trade, only to be turned into a vampire himself. The following year, the Blaxploitation standout Ganja and Hess was released. On the surface, the film’s plot is about a Black anthropologist who falls in love with his assistant’s widow after he is turned into a vampire. However, many other themes are woven into the narrative threads that are brought out fully because, like Blacula and other films during this era (Abby, Sugar Hill, Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde), there were Black creatives behind the camera.
By the end of the 70s, Blaxploitation films began tapering off into the ether. However, they left behind a lasting impact on Black horror, which we can see the influences of in films like Tales from the Hood (1995) and Bones (2001). Where Blaxploitation films were infused with funk and fashion, these films not only featured hip-hop music but the artists themselves. This only further connected the horror stories to their intended audiences. Black horror curates the status of the times and culture and flips it on its head to ignite fear that only we can understand and identify with.
The Filmmakers Who Understood The Assignment
Filmmakers like Bill Gun and William Craine understood that only we, those who have the lived experience to back it up, can take these stories where they need to go. This is why I get goosebumps when I see the camera pan over the gold framed photo of Daniel Kaluuya’s character, Chris, in Get Out (2017). Or why I understood Teyonah Parris’ character, Brianna in Candyman (2021) when she looked down at the basement stairs and said, “Nope!” It’s culture. It’s us.
Is This Year Saying The Quiet Part Out Loud?
The horror genre is becoming more inclusive, a truer reflection of the people of the world. Except for when it comes to Black folks. Imaginary featured a Black woman who faced an evil presence from her childhood rooted in an imaginary world. Jessica (DeWanda Wise) was the stepmother of two children. Meanwhile, her husband, who is white, was barely there to help her. In The Front Room, Belinda (Brandy Norwood) portrayed a mother who took in her widowed mother-in-law. A woman who just so happened to be racist and crazy as hell. Her husband was not worth the screen time he was given, which is an ongoing trend.
House of Spoils tells the story of a chef who dreams of opening a restaurant but ends up battling an unknown evil connected to the garden she uses to grow produce. Chef (Ariana DeBose) is angry and downright mean at times to those in her kitchen. However, there are no answers to why she is such a hard-ass. Her character is as flat as paper, much like the film’s plot. Out of the almost 200 horror films and a handful of shows released this year. Only Them: The Scare, Mr. Crocket, and The Deliverance featured primarily Black casts and were written and directed by Black filmmakers. Casting a Black lead is not enough, especially when it feels forced and performative.
What We Really Need…
Our ties to horror run deep. Black folklore goes back to our Southern roots and beyond, all the way to Africa. We got a taste of this in Abby (1974), and it was a beautiful thing to see. Black horror goes beyond racism and how others have used our Blackness against us. Putting our narratives in the hands of Black creatives allows for authentic representation of our beauty, culture, and fears.
In the documentary Horror Noire, Jordan Peele said the fact that there is “such a small handful of films led by Black people,” is “the horror itself.” It is going to take a renaissance to put an end to these films that don’t even attempt to get it right when it comes to telling our stories. However, during this moment, when the world around us is burning, we need it.
Kristie Felice
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