Hello and welcome to my blog where I will be posting my thoughts and analysis on Black Horror and the overarching themes within this media. As some of this material is rated R, +17 only please, and I will be putting trigger warnings for sensitive material in the tags.
Though I doubt many, if any, will find your way here, please enjoy and feel free to comment (as long as it is respectful!).
*EDIT*
This class is now over and this blog is now an archive. Thank you!
To wrap up the final two weeks of material, I would like to discuss the theme of possession in black horror, and how possession can be an overarching metaphor for trauma, and how this trauma shapes characters' lives. Possession implies the loss of control over one's own body, of another consciousness sharing a body with the original host. In the short stories “Please, Momma” and “Summer”, this concept will be further explored.
In “Please, Momma” Sissy’s mother is consumed, or in better words, possessed, by grief over the loss of her husband and Sissy’s twin sister Baby. Her mother is cruel to Sissy while possessed, and is told that if she does not rid herself of this monster, this OnĂrárĂ , the mother will end up getting Sissy killed. To rid herself of the monster is to rid herself of her grief over what she lost – she needs to live in the present and look to the future, not let herself be consumed by the past. The story ends on a cliff hanger but I like to think she saved Sissy and worked towards a better future. This story is a metaphor for how grief can be all consuming, and how one's own grief can affect those close to you – if you let it, grief can consume you. It is interesting though to think of grief as a parasite, as something that is separate from ourselves and changes who we are to the point we seem to be someone else. I’m not sure I agree with the sentiment that grief of darker emotions are separate from ourselves, I think it is apart of us, and when we say someone is possessed in the case of this story, it can simply mena that others are viewing you as something they didn’t know you were capable of…calling this possession is easier to excuse, but that could also make it dangerous.
In “Summer”, it is the baby that gets possessed by the swamp creature, not the mother. In this story we see the mom struggle with whether or not to cure her child because the now monster baby is better behaved and less troublesome than her real baby – but it is just that, the baby is no longer her child if it is possessed. This story also ends on a cliffhanger, but again I like to have hope the mother did the right thing and cured her child. ThIs story was an interesting take on possession, and subverted original expectations of the monster in the story being the one that possessed the baby, but instead it introduces the idea of the monstrous potential inside all of us – the mother’s inner dialogue about hurting her baby, or not curing her baby are dark thoughts, but do the thoughts make you a monster if you don't act on them?
It’s interesting that in both stories the mother could be considered the monster, and yet wasn’t the one possessed in “Summer”. This just furthers the idea that monsters perhaps aren't what make us monstrous, and instead it is ourselves and our actions…
Vampires are without a doubt one of my favorite monsters, though I know they are labeled one of the more “basic” monster categories. Even when I was young I would read stories about vampires – there was something so intriguing about what vampires represent, and looking back, it's interesting to see how my own interpretation of what vampires represent has changed over time. I feel like now vampires represent losing one's identity and succumbing to a force that seems stronger than themselves. That's a common theme in the stories of today's discussion – there is an all consuming hunger that takes power and control over one's life, but the question is, what does that power represent?Â
Blacula and Ganja and Hess were both more Western interpretations of vampirism, interestingly enough, because both had themes regarding a connection to Africa. Blacula starts out by denouncing slavery, directly trying to end the slave trade, and then the Prince is punished because of this by becoming a “slave to hunger” – a vampire. In this case, becoming a vampire is punishment, and Blacula spends the entire movie hungry for a connection to his homeland, hungry for love (namely his past wife Luva), etc. The hunger for blood is said to never be satisfied, and this is reflected in the lack of satisfaction in his other endeavors – Tina dies and he himself dies, before love and a return home could be lived. Ganja and Hess takes a different approach to the concept of vampire hunger, and after discussion in class, it seems there is an underlying theme of addiction (drug, drinking, etc.), something that can be reflected in real life. Interesting in this case that Hess then turns to a faith in Christianity to “cure” this hunger – this alludes to the idea that vampires are devil imagery (in accordance with Christian theology), and thus alludes to the fact that an all consuming hunger is immoral. As if being virtually immortal and having constant hunger pains isn't enough punishment, one has to live with the knowledge that they are committing these immoral acts. This metaphor takes on a different connotation if we substitute blood for something else though – are drug addicts truly monsters? Or do they just need support? Does chasing after a lost love until it consumes you make you a monster or a victim yourself? Especially in the case where vampires did not choose themselves to become what they are, but are a byproduct of circumstance and the like. Food for thought.
In the short stories "Greedy Choke Puppy" and "Loneliness is in Your Blood", instead of a “vampire”, the creature in question is a soucouyant. In the former story, the only thing that can quell the soucouyants hunger for blood, for youth, is love…at least that is the way the Grandmother makes it sound – if you find other forms of love and purpose in your life, you won't succumb to the evil and immoral feeding on others. Unfortunately, the granddaughter loses herself to the point the grandmother feels she has to kill her to rid the world of her evil. Love as a weapon against hunger is almost an opposition to Blacula. In the later short story, the driving force is loneliness, or in other words, a lack of love and purpose as well. When the main character succumbs to their hunger and desire to have what humans have (ie. a baby) they realize they are so far gone, it's implied they end their own life as a solution. Self sacrifice in the face of these addictions is reflected in Blacula and Ganja and Hess – it begs the question why the hunger reaches this point. In both short stories, it seems the main enemy is time itself – over time the soucouyant gets more bitter, more forgetful of what it means to love, of what it means to truly live. Time is the enemy and yet time is the only thing these creatures innately have (immortality) – perhaps a metaphor for the idea that we are our own worst enemies.
Magic and Ritual in Black Horror (Wake and Eve’s Bayou)
wc: 700
Though the idea of magic isn’t necessarily or inherently something that evokes feelings of horror, it is the aspect of the other worldly, the supernatural that evokes a certain air of mystery, and that mystery of the unknown (or seemingly unknown) is what sets up the basis for horror. Previous to this class, I had heard of neither Wake or Eve’s Bayou, so I was going into both films not only not knowing what to expect, but with the assumption that they would be some form of more traditional horror (ie. monsters and what not). Though I was mistaken on that front, both films, especially Eve’s Bayou left me feeling all sorts of uncomfortable.
In class, it was mentioned that Wake was criticized for being a cautionary tale for using magic to work around society and the status quo, for being a cautionary tale for black individuals to step out of line (at least the imagined white lines). I suppose this is a valid take, but looking beyond that, it can simply be a theme for messing with forces one doesn't understand…perhaps the magic isn’t the evil force its imagined to be, and the real problem was the fact that Charmaine didn’t ask any important questions about consequences, or didn’t consider consequences in the first place. Or did she but they weren’t that important to her? Of course the implied act that she killed her father could be considered horror in itself, but later on, we realize that the created man is not perfect as she assumed, and there is something sinister about him. It was magic and ritual that brought him to be, a ritual that seemed almost too easy, and we come to realize by the end of the film that the cost of said ritual Charmaine was going to pay for the rest of her life. No the cost wasn’t simply that the man lacked morals, or that he assaulted her (there was an implication of r*pe), but the fact that she would not only have to live with her decision, but she had to kill the man, and she had to grow and potentially birth his (devil) baby.
In Eve’s Bayou, magic and ritual is seen in a different light. It is not seen as taboo and dangerous, but instead it is seen as valid and trustworthy. This is especially obvious in the way that Mozelle has customers come to her for her Sight, and they trust these visions as truth. Mozelle also sees ghosts (or at least that's how I interpreted her visions) and yet, there is not fear, but recollection and reminiscence. The real horror in this film is the husband Louis and the relationship he has with the family, but Cisely in particular, where we are confronted with themes of inc*st and adultery. The only time perhaps the magic is considered dangerous is when Eve attempts to kill Louis with voodoo – though I believe in the end it was his own actions and karma catching up to him that killed him. Eve believed that it was the voodoo, and thus her, that killed him, and after learning that Cisely's original story may not have been so cut and dry, Eve feels even more guilty than she did before.
The horror in these films is the level of plausibility in our modern lives. Of course in Wake the idea of a “created” man isn’t something that is plausible, but the idea of a perfect man who turns out to be monstrous is, and is a reality for many people – I think these films in particular invoke the question of what it means to be a monster/to be monstrous, as well as a warning for acting before seeing the whole picture. At the end of Eve’s Bayou, Eve says that the “the truth changes color depending on the light” – in films where the horror is subtle, the message is different to each viewer simply because nothing is explicitly stated. The viewer is left to their own interpretations, and in the end, these films that utilize and rely on these themes of magic and ritual, end up embodying the mysticism that these acts come with.
Candyman (1992) v Candyman (2020): Commentary and Comparison
wc: 797
Before this class, I had been meaning to watch Candyman (the original!) for a while now, as it was one of the last mainstream horror movies I had left to watch – I didn't even realize there was a new film made in 2020. So, right when this class started, I watched the original on my own, and I wasn’t sure what I expected but it was definitely interesting, especially in regards to the power that folklore holds. I watched the new film today, just before writing this, and I have to say that it surprised me as well, but in an entirely different way. I am superstitious and cover my eyes when they say His name so I don’t see any reflections, but this movie had me turning away at other scenes as well. Previously, the only other film that made me close my eyes was Texas Chainsaw Massacre, as I couldn't handle the gore, and that sentiment held true in this film as well. Near the end...
where Anthony's body began to truly change, and be changed, into the likeness of the original Candyman, I couldn’t handle it! So I suppose props in the “this made my skin crawl” department.
Moving to a more in depth analysis, we will begin with the original. The main, or one of the main, conflicts is that Candyman (a black man) is chasing after Helen (a white woman) and messing with her mind, trying to convince her to join him, to kill with him, to be eternal with him. This relationship is seen as taboo and is harmfully reminiscence of the stereotype that Black men are aggressive and animalistic, and they desire a white woman as if they are forbidden fruit (though I suppose historically they were in a way), and will do anything to get her, including harming her, or taking her against her will. In this sense, one could then view Candynman and Helen's entire relationship as a metaphor. Of course, their relationship is a parallel to the story told depicting how Candyman (Daniel Robitaille) originally died – he loved and had an affair with a white woman, then when found out was chased and murdered. So one could view his and Helen's relationship as a cautionary tale for Black men wanting to break the status quo…not exactly a good message, especially in modern society. The theme throughout the film is not only highly racialized, but also involves class and classism. It was strange to me that Candyman would kill anyone indiscriminately when he was murdered by rich white men due to his relationship, but what did these people living in Cabrini-Green do? I suppose Candyman is a Boogeyman and not a vengeful type spirit, but still…
In the 2020 film, I feel like we get more context for what is shown in the original. Throughout the film, the concept of “being eternal” is explored in multiple ways – Anthony's art is referred to this way, the legend of Candyman is eternal, and the pain that people in this community have and share is eternal. It’s implied in the film that horror and folktale is used as an outlet for this pain, but interestingly enough, this folktale is giving life to these horrors as well. It's interesting to explore the power that shared belief and words have. And of course, near the end it's revealed that Anthony was some sort of vessel of the original Candyman, as he physically becomes him in some sort of ritual (completed on accident by the police comin in and killing Anthony), but his other things in his life parallel Daniel, like his art career. When Anthony starts his series on Cabrini-Green, he says it feels like he knows what he's supposed to do for the first time in his career…probably because looking into the legend of Candyman and where he was born (and originally kidnapped) was the trigger to his descent into the Boogeyman persona. Him being an artist also brings up the interesting conversation of class. The art critic even claims artists are gentrifiers, that they are the reason for the neighborhood being neglected, and though this comment isn’t necessarily or completely true, it does make the viewer wonder.
One other thing I want to mention from the new film is the scene in which Anthony is in the mirror elevator. Watching it, I thought it was interesting in the sense that the endless reflection creates the illusion where you don't know where you start or end – a metaphor for not knowing where “you” start or Candyman starts inside ones (Anthony or Helens) mind – overall you dont know whats real and a hallucination. In the end it seems that just because something is just in your head, doesn’t mean it's not “real”.
As always, there's so much to cover and so little time, but I’ll end it there.
It seems almost inevitable that the next post preceding our discussion of Get Out will be on Peele's next movie, Us. I watched this movie when it first came out, in theaters, with some friends from school, and I hadn’t watched it again until this class. Similar to Get Out, There was something so unsettling about the story and visuals of Us, and yet the experience of the story as a whole was different.
Initially, the first pattern that caught my eye when watching the film was that of isolation. In the beginning, we see Adelaide somewhat isolated from her family while walking through the boardwalk, the actual horror story starts because Adelaide wanders off and is isolated from any others that could help her in the funhouse. And though we later find out that after this Adelaide's mutism is because her doppelganger switched places with her, this is isolation due to assumed trauma experienced at the boardwalk. Depending on who you view as the antagonist in the story (and of course that may change as the story progresses), Adelaide is isolated from society when she tries to learn and adapt to the change in culture from the underground. As she grows up and eventually has a family, Adelaide is still affected by the trauma of her childhood – something that becomes readily apparent when the family arrives at their vacation home and Gabe (the husband) suggests going to the beach…something that makes Adelaide uncomfortable. And once the family reaches the beach, the theme of isolation is expressed in another way.Â
The Wilson family appears to be the only black family on the beach (we see this in a striking aerial visual shot), and even the friends that they are at the beach with are a white family. The interactions between the members of the family are stilted, uncomfortable in their own right, and overall depict a feeling opposite of intimate, and thus, seemingly superficial. Privilege as a subtheme in Us is relevant to the overarching theme of isolation in the sense that these class distinctions have created more barriers around the Wilson family. Gabe seems to be making the extra effort to acknowledge this wealth, in both boasting about it on the beach with Josh, almost as a challenge, and in trying to sell the family on The Crawdaddy – this wealth, or in other words, this materialism is a privilege of its own. This wealth gap, or disparity from one's previous life, family, friends, etc. can be isolating in the sense of privilege. Interestingly enough though, wealth often isolates individuals of a family as well, studies show that those in higher classes don't spend as much time with their children as they do using their money to put their children in extracurriculars. However, the Wilson family as a whole seemed united as a front, and this strength is what helped them survive to the end.
Overall, the isolation as something familiar is perhaps what makes it so scary in a horror film. Running from something that seems almost inevitable.
In honor of the name of our course being named after Jordan Peele's 2017 film Get Out, I thought it fitting that my first blog post on the class was on said movie. Now I had seen Get Out prior to this course, both on my own, and for another class, so watching it again before writing this was probably about my fifth or so time. And yet the amazing thing is, the movie not only continues to invoke such an unsettling feeling every time, but every time I watch, I discover another detail, another metaphor, I hadn’t before. Besides that, watching this movie in a class setting allows for the unique experience of discussing and analyzing the material with others, verses on one's own – something that enriches the experience (both horror and philosophical) as a whole.
The most obvious and initial observation of commentary on the status quo is Chris and Rose's relationship – Chris being a black man and Rose a white woman. This domestic pairing has been vilified and criminalized on a moral and legal sphere throughout history, or at the very least, American history. This narrative is harmful to black men, as it depicts/stereotypes them as animalistic debauchers, villains – this is where Peele rewrites this narrative, literally flipping it 180°, and shows that white people can be, and are, the perpetrators in scenarios. Perhaps not one to the degree or reality as the one in Get Out, but nonetheless. Peele was not the first to make commentary against this status quo (and certainly won't be the last), but his depiction incites reflection of W.E.B. Du Bois’ short story “The Comet”. Du Bois’ own story has many underlying themes, but in relevance to Get Out, the most apparent is that by depicting a narrative that goes against the status quo, there is perhaps hope of engendering an understand of humanity that looks past skin color…of course this sentiment doesn't last long as Julia (the woman) in the Comet reverts to her initial (pre-catastrophe) ideology that Jim is nothing to her, despite the religious awakening and coming together the two have. Perhaps this easy slip back into her previous role is a cynical acknowledgment that people never truly change, but in a less broad concept, it depicts how the “white women” as a symbol of complacency in the face of black racism is a major and relevant role in modern society. This is true, and most definitely exaggerated in Peele's film, as Rose is not only complacent, but an active member in the kidnapping, and brainwashing black individuals. On top of this, Missy is the mastermind behind the consciousness transfer taking place, using her hypnosis skills to mentally attack and trap the family’s victims.
In addition to this, and other blatant depictions of racism, the subtle metaphors and symbolism as what really add depth to Peele’s story. In the beginning, when Chris first meets Rose's family, Dean is giving Chris a tour of the house and tells him they had to seal off the basement due to “black mold”. As the story later progresses, we can look back and assume this comment had a less than literal meaning. The black mold could represent the black individuals who were moved into the actual basement where they are inevitable brainwashed, or it could represent the minds the family are infiltrating – they force these black individuals in the “basement” of their minds (ie. the sunken place) and “seal off” the exit/escape. The Sunken Place could be a metaphor for the basement as well, and overall both could represent a larger institutional evil at play – the racial hierarchy. Black individuals are forced into the lower/lowest(?) level(s) of the hierarchy, and Chris’s fight to consciousness, his fight to escape the basement and reach the top level of the house, represent the same thing, fighting to the top of the racial hierarchy. Another interesting detail is the early hint at what makes Rose family, and the guests at the party, so unnerving. When the guests first arrive at the party, they all roll up to the house in black cars…and yet all white people are shown getting out. This is perhaps a visual reference of what's to come – the black bodies will be used to house these white people's consciousness (ie. what’s inside doesn't match the outside).
Overall, Get Out is an incredible movie, both for its social commentary, but the pure horror aspect of the story. The amount of writing that could be done to analyze the film goes to show how incredibly well made it is, and my analysis is barely scratching the surface. I encourage everyone to watch and rewatch, and discuss with others, perhaps you will discover something new, or perhaps you will discover something new about the people that watch and analyze the films with you.Â
