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Horror or Comedy

As my class on Black Horror came to an end, the last Black horror movie I watched for my class was “Abby.” This film felt quite different from the more contemporary ones, especially in how it depicted horror while also incorporating unintentional comedy, primarily during scenes that were meant to be “horror”/scary.   

The movie begins with the scene of a man digging at some archaeological site in Nigeria, accidentally letting out a demon, the demon of sex, on Earth. 

You can tell right from this scene that it is low-budget; the way the characters throw themselves on the ground is highly dramatic, and special effects leave much to be desired. This scene specifically also ties "Abby" to the Blaxploitation era in which Hollywood was trying to bridge its gap with Africa but ended up leaning heavily into stereotypes and questionable symbols. 

Once the demon is unleashed, it targets the archaeologist's daughter-in-law, who at first appears to be the ideal church wife, seemingly sinless.

The movie doesn’t hold back on its sexual references, especially in the shower scene where she first becomes possessed, making explicit sexual sounds, and in another scene where she is intimate with a man in his car. Initially, these moments felt almost awkward to watch. More so than other films I've seen. I think that’s because of how sexual desire is portrayed and what the film's underlying message might be. 

From my perspective, growing up Catholic, many of these topics were never openly discussed. Watching “Abby,” I found it strange how it portrays women's sexual desire as something that requires to be explained as demonic possession. This really highlights how sexual urges were viewed at the time (and possibly still today), especially in the context of the Black Christian community.  

However, by the end of the movie, when we see the conversation between the demon and the father-in-law, it subtly reveals the hypocrisy of the men in the story and perhaps even of the Christian Church as a whole.

It’s interesting to see how the main character initially embodies what “the perfect church wife” is supposed to be. But what does that really mean? Is it being sinless? How do we define faithfulness? Yet, the film suggests that women exploring their own sexuality is depicted as a sign of demonic possession. It raises important questions about how society views female desire and female autonomy.

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During this week of black horror class screenings, I watched a few movies that reimagine traditional black vampire films, giving space to black actors to finally tell stories through their lens. One movie I particularly liked was Ganja & Hess. I really appreciated its slower pace for once, and the fact that it was trying to say something more meaningful than the average contemporary horror movie at the theaters today. I know that nostalgic movie fans, or those who prefer the original versions, might not like these adaptations of movies such as Dracula, but personally, I think Ganja & Hess really elevated the vampire horror genre.

This movie touches on a lot of important themes, like black love, addiction, Christianity and religion, and class distinctions. The story follows a black man who becomes a vampire, falls in love with a black woman, and, in turn, turns Ganja into a vampire as well. To feed, Hees goes into the inner city. This part is especially interesting because he targets more vulnerable people, as it’s less risky for him and he’s less likely to get caught. But when you think about it, it’s kind of disarming and sad to realize that, in both real life and horror movies, minorities are often the most vulnerable and therefore the most targeted communities in so many ways.

The theme of addiction, with blood as a metaphor, is also really powerful. I think the director wanted to show two different reactions people can have to addiction. First, you have people like Hess, who quickly recognize the problem and instead of ignoring it, he seeks help and try to control their impulses. For example, he goes to church and tries to control his anger. Then, there’s Ganja, who doesn’t fight her addiction and just gives in to it.

Even though Ganja & Hess brings some really important issues affecting black communities to the surface, I can’t help but feel like it might be seen as a bit insensitive in how it tackles these topics. It almost feels like the film is exploiting black experiences for financial gain. That said, compared to older movies, Hollywood has made a lot of progress in how it represents blackness in history and films. But there’s still a lot of room for improvement, especially by avoiding stereotypes and ensuring that these themes are navigated thoughtfully, without abusing them. Instead, there needs to be a focus on raising awareness and wanting to initiate conversations.

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This week I had the chance to watch a lot of black horror movies featuring Black characters, but one really stood out to me: The Girl with All the Gifts. The film explores two species coexisting on Earth, where the hungries, although superior to humans, are controlled and often imprisoned.

One reason for this is that the hungries are a kind of zombie, sometimes unable to control their urges, which makes them dangerous. This reflects society's fear of "the other." But there’s so much more to these so-called monsters. For example, Melanie is incredibly brilliant, empathetic, and strong. As the story unfolds, the power shifts from humans to the hungries, showing how fear can lead people to try to dominate those they see as different.

I really connected with Melanie. She’s just a normal kid seeking love and validation from adults, but she’s seen as a monster. I found her relatable because she embodies the struggle of wanting to fit in while being misunderstood. The movie raises an important question: "What does it mean to be human?" Despite the differences that humans try to emphasize, there aren’t many between the two species in the film. This resonates with my own experiences of seeing how people can discriminate based on made-up stories about those who seem different.

Watching this film made me reflect on my own feelings of being judged or misunderstood. I appreciated how the young Black actress brought Melanie to life, making her struggles and strengths feel real. It’s fascinating how stories like this can mirror our world, reminding us to look beyond appearances and see the humanity in everyone.

There is more to the monsters that people are scared of.  Melanie for example, is extremely brilliant, intelligent, empathetic and strong.  Over the course of the movie in fact, the power shifts from the humans to the hungries.  Again, this reihepatizes that in a world where people think they are different from others based on physical appearance, they might fear “the other”, and try everything the can to suppress them.

I think I liked this movie because of how connected I felt to the protagonist.  Personally, I believe she was a very interesting and easy character to relate to. As just a normal seemingly child, who is just seeking love, validation, and looking to please adults around her. At the same time, even though she is portrayed as a monster, she is really the victim, the person humans fear because of her superiority.

So “what does it mean to be human”? If we take it in a literal sense for the purpose of the movie, there are not many differences between the two species represented in the movie, despite how much humans try to reinforce and disteal fears towards the hungries and make people see them as monsters.

In the same way, if we look at the real world, we see people discriminating against other people, based on made up human stories about how they perceive certain people as different from them.

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Last week, I watched both versions of Candyman, the original and the recent sequel. I found it upsetting how Hollywood, even with good intentions, still missed some important points that could have made this film much better. Black audiences, especially those familiar with the nuances of Black cinema, might cringe at some of the exaggerated and stereotypical elements in the story.

Overall, I liked the movie. It had many very scary moments and plot twists, sticking to classic horror themes. However, it also reinforced certain stereotypes that made some scenes feel a bit too much.

Even though the film features a talented Black cast, it’s clear that it was directed by a white man and seen through a mostly white perspective. Tony Todd, who played Candyman, and others may have thought the film was progressive for its time, but it still included some negative aspects.

What frustrated me the most was how Cabrini-Green was depicted as an exaggerated version of Chicago’s slums, suggesting what Blackness and Black lives are “supposed” to look like. It’s insulting how the production felt the need to show more trash and decay to seem authentic. Authentic to who? If I lived there at the time, I would be deeply offended by the portrayal of Cabrini-Green as a dirty urban jungle filled with crime and where people were shown as monsters.

Unfortunately, the original film included many racist ideas that played into societal fears and stereotypes; ones we still deal with today. This seems to be a way to attract a bigger audience. The portrayal of Black masculinity as dangerous and obsessed with white women reinforces harmful beliefs that Hollywood has long pushed, dating back to extremely wicked films like The Birth of a Nation.

Despite these issues, the movie does bring up important topics, like the ongoing fear of Blackness and the idea of the "other" that still exists today.

The 2021 sequel takes a fresh approach by stepping away from Helen’s story and focusing on Anthony. This change lets us see Black experiences in a more authentic way. It uses horror to tackle important issues and gives a better view of Black trauma, that is also not violent and respects Black history and past experiences. While I wish the film had spent more time on topics like racial division and gentrification, it does a great job connecting and appealing to viewers. It touches on themes like losing yourself and feeling stuck in life, which many of us can relate to today.

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This week, I finally watched The Blackening for the first time, and it really surprised me. I’m not usually drawn to horror, but this film effortlessly blends horror and comedy in a way that kept me engaged. It’s one of the Black horror films I’ve seen recently that I genuinely enjoyed.

I even had the chance to virtually meet Dwayne Perkins, the co-writer and one of the stars, during a lecture at UCLA. Hearing him talk about the creation of the film, along with the backstories and inspirations behind it, was such a unique experience. It gave so much more meaning to the movie to me.

The movie takes place on Juneteenth and the movie is a celebration of Black history, but at the same time it is very cleverly dealing with more serious issues. I loved how it subverts typical horror tropes, especially the idea of the "Black savior". In a scene, a white ranger gets killed while trying to rescue the group—this moment highlights the underlying fear and distrust many in the Black community feel toward authority.

There is another scene towards the end where instead of calling the police the characters call the firemen, who eventually use their fire hoes on the characters. This scene carries significant weight for the people who know about the historical violence inflicted by firefighters during the Civil Rights era. 

One thing I really liked about the movie is that it has all these female protagonists, but they're all very reluctant heroines. This dynamic is especially evident in Lisa’s character, whose aggression reflects the exhausting pressures she feels to be strong, even when she doesn’t want to be. 

Perkins does a very good job at breaking down stereotypes, even for biracial characters. The inclusion of this category however does raise some serious questions about identity and acceptance in the Black community. The scene where Clifford forces the group to determine who is “the blackest” for them to survive is intense and thought-provoking. That is such a great description of being stuck in between identities.

Clifford’s character embodies the struggle many black people face when feeling disconnected from their own culture. His rejection of his identity leads to tragic consequences, highlighting the dangers of not feeling accepted.

What I particularly enjoyed was the film’s humor. The comedic timing was spot-on, and it provided a much-needed balance to the horror elements. I actually laughed at some points when I wasn't expecting to, so the tension wasn't too bad. This blend of humor with deeper themes is something I really appreciate in films, as it allows for reflection without feeling overwhelmed.

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Embracing the Unknown: Fear in Black Horror

As someone who doesn’t typically enjoy horror, watching films from this genre as part of my African American studies class has been an enlightening experience. I’ve begun to see beyond the monsters, jump scares, and fears, recognizing them as metaphors for real-life nightmares that have affected many people.

Previously, I viewed horror as a barbaric and mindless genre, lacking in meaning or depth. However, I’ve discovered a rich world within horror, particularly Black horror films, which serve as a crucial outlet for validating feelings of fear without further traumatizing audiences.

These films allow black viewers to see themselves in the characters, forging connections between history and fantasy. They present a space where real-life horrors—often difficult to understand and process—become less frightening.

Black horror also tackles significant themes, such as the feeling of not belonging and the experience of being made to feel like an outsider. Race relations and interracial couples are recurring scenarios in many Black horror films, providing a fresh lens on these complex dynamics.

One notable short story, The Comet, follows Jim and Julia, two survivors of an apocalyptic event in New York. It’s both comical and sad to see how Julia initially regards Jim as if he were an alien, terrified enough to almost run away. Later, she’s surprised to find he is an “actual gentleman.” They bond over their shared humanity and purpose until Julia encounters her father, who immediately assumes Jim has violated her. This assumption highlights a troubling narrative: why would white women fear Black men? What is there to fear? Why would Black men be any different from white men?

This theme echoes the infamous scene in Birth of a Nation, where a Black man (played by a white actor in blackface) is portrayed as a monstrous figure chasing a white woman in distress. In the movie, she would rather jump off a cliff than be taken by him. Despite being made in a deeply racist and white supremacist era, this fear of Black men is perplexing.

Historically, it’s important to note that Black people, especially Black women, were the ones terrified of white men, often powerless against their violence. During slavery, white men raped and impregnated Black women without remorse. Is it possible that white people are projecting their own fears? Could it be that they are afraid of a long-anticipated revenge from Black men against white women? In my opinion, this notion is nonsensical and reflects a deeper self-doubt that is hard to ignore.