As a run-up to our most-beloved Halloween week, here’s a deep dive into the fairly recent subgenre of Black horror and its proverbial roots in Hollywood.
Last Updated: 12.36 PM, Oct 20, 2021
Mainstream Hollywood is notorious for poorly highlighting the misery, suffering, and systemic oppression of coloured people. In the past, several films have attempted to draw attention away from the sufferings of Black Americans by focussing on white stories or inculcating a Black culture juxtaposed with unnecessary comic elements. The films only served to gloss over the explicit racism that is still prevalent today and further reinforced false stereotypes about the already marginalised community.
However, in the recent past, filmmakers like Jordan Peele (Get Out), Mati Diop (Atlantics), Gerard McMurray (The First Purge), and Remi Weekes (His House) are pioneering the transition from stereotypical narratives of Black culture and the mythical Black man into a more potent subgenre of Black horror. The new wave of Black horror films pinpoints the atrocities that plague human beings, for something as inconsequential as skin colour, using horror as the main medium. These films often experiment with various stylistic horror choices and focus on delivering impactful storylines that centre around Black characters.
Although the proliferation of Black horror films into mainstream entertainment is a recent trend, the roots of the genre’s cinematic aesthetics date back to as long back as 1971. Van Peebles’ Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song (1971) chronicles the tale of a Black man named Sweetback. The film depicts the shocking account of frenzied police officers as they frame Sweetback for a murder that he did not commit.
Throughout the film, Peebles examines the alarming details of police brutality, the psychological and emotional malevolence of the community “protectors”, and unchecked corruption that was widespread during those times. Viewers were upset by the anti-police sentiments and racial victimisation, but the Black viewers finally had a protagonist who was voicing their thoughts. For a change, he did not get brutally murdered by the policemen and actually won against all odds.
When Jordan Peele’s psychological thriller Get Out premiered in 2017, audiences were exposed to the silent viciousness of modern-day racism. When Chris (played by Daniel Kaluuya), a young African-American man visits his Caucasian girlfriend’s parents for the weekend, he is in for an uneasy reception. Over the weekend, a series of increasingly disturbing discoveries infuriate Chris to the point of no return. Peele exposes the deep-seated hypocrisy of first-world white supremacists and refuses to forgive their casual racism. The film provides a biting commentary on the life of the Black “outsider” as the people in power continue to mercilessly disenfranchise the already marginalised. Get Out has forged a new path for horror films and is a milestone in the history of the subgenre of Black horror.
Films in this space are often guilty of blatantly catering to the white audience instead of providing a sense of catharsis to the people whose stories they are meant to represent. Characters are mercilessly massacred, demeaned, and discriminated against for the deplorable enjoyment of the audience. Them (2021), a horror anthology series that follows a Black family who moves to the all-white neighbourhood of Compton, is a prominent example of the genre’s failings. Lucky (Deborah Ayorinde) is repeatedly inflicted with malicious circumstances without any semblance of nuance or character growth. She is taunted and ravaged by the white perpetrators at every turn.
Many films have tried to emulate Get Out’s success. But even a dramatic plot, that depicts the gruesome details of Black trauma, loses out if the intent is not clear. In the past, representation for ostracised communities in films has often been marred by stereotypes and tokenism. Several films have also attempted to exploit the trending prospect of horror films about Black trauma. A tantalising and refreshing take on the calamitous themes of horror while also recognising the power of Black voices is ultimately the need of the hour.
Karen (2021) and Two Distant Strangers (2020) suffer from a similar one-note treatment of coloured characters who find themselves in scenarios that are unforgiving and end up almost screaming into an abyss of stasis.
What Get Out achieved was unprecedented. Not only was it an unparalleled indictment of the privileged, but was also a satirical take on the entitlement that is casually practised by the “superior” sections. Peele’s 2019 follow-up Us took the conversation even further. The film was a scathing infra-red view into how badly white supremacy permeates into every social structure and becomes the model way of living.
For Peele, the Wilson family becomes an instrument of protest. Through Chris’ struggles and final win, Peele shifted the focus from the vanquished to the victor. Similarly, filmmakers like Remi Weekes and Mati Diop have chosen to spotlight narratives that promote cultural introspection along with examining interpersonal race relations.
Black horror has risen as a subgenre in the recent past, with filmmakers understanding the need and importance of shifting the conversation towards the marginalised in a manner that is useful and functional rather than just sympathetic. With Peele, this trend seems to have gained solid ground. But here’s hoping that consistency in bolstering unheard stories remains Hollywood’s priority in the coming decades.