From Night of the Living Dead to The Girl with All the Gifts: How a Black Protagonist Transforms the Narrative
In film, every casting decision carries weight, but sometimes an unexpected choice changes everything. That’s precisely what happened with Night of the Living Dead (1968) and The Girl with All the Gifts (2016), two films where the lead role was not originally intended for a Black actor, but the casting of Duane Jones and Sennia Nanua reshaped the entire narrative. Their performances weren’t just exceptional, they altered how audiences engaged with the films, how character relationships were perceived, and how deeper social and racial themes surfaced in ways that may not have been as profound had the protagonists been played by white actors.
In Night of the Living Dead, having a Black protagonist in 1968 was groundbreaking. And not just any Black protagonist, Ben was smart, educated, well-spoken, and independent. He didn’t need anyone to save him, he was self-sufficient. He didn’t need a white man’s help, there was no white savior in this story, he was going to save himself. That alone was radical for the time. But casting Duane Jones in the role also made several key scenes highly controversial in ways they wouldn’t have been had Ben’s character been white.
First, we see a Black actor touching white actors, a shocking visual for the 1960s. More than that, he strikes Barbara to stop her from running into danger to save her brother. He gets physical with Harry, a white man, and even shoots him. On top of that, Ben kills multiple white ghouls on-screen, something unheard of in the era’s mainstream films. Given the racial and political climate of the time, these moments took on a weight that went far beyond the immediate horror of the story. They subverted expectations, challenged deeply ingrained social norms, and forced audiences to confront the unsettling realities of race and power in America.
Then comes the film’s devastating ending (spoiler alert). After surviving the entire night against impossible odds, Ben, the sole survivor, is shot by a white mob who’s out hunting ghouls. Was he simply mistaken for a ghoul? It’s hard to tell, but there is no hesitation and the mob doesn’t express any regret or acknowledge his humanity. Sheriff McClelland, the leader of the group, casually says, “Good shot! Ok, he’s dead, let’s go get him. That’s another one for the fire." This line is chilling because it completely strips Ben of his identity and agency. He isn’t seen as a man who fought to survive the entire night, just another body to dispose of. The lack of acknowledgment, remorse, or even hesitation hits harder because Ben is Black and it reinforces the racial undertones of the scene, making it even more disturbing. It mirrors the real-life dehumanization of Black victims of violence, particularly during the Jim Crow era and Civil Rights Movement.
After Ben is shot he is dragged out of the house with metal hooks like an animal, and discarded without care. This would have been disturbing no matter what, but with a Black protagonist, the moment becomes an undeniable echo of racial violence in America. It is a gut-punch, particularly for Black audiences who had already seen too many real-life versions of this scene play out. The intergenerational trauma this moment must have triggered is unfathomable.
All of this, the character dynamics, the interactions, the messages the film conveys, changes simply because of the decision to cast Ben as a Black man. It transforms Night of the Living Dead from a standard zombie film into a deeply political statement. It forces the audience to see race, power, and survival in ways they might not have expected. It’s a reminder that representation in the media doesn’t just matter, it changes everything, and the same goes for The Girl with All the Gifts.
In The Girl with All the Gifts, the lead character, Melanie, is also Black. While the story takes place in a different time period and context, the core message remains unchanged, when a Black actor is cast as the protagonist, it reshapes character dynamics and influences the film’s overall meaning.
Despite being a "hungry" (the film’s term for zombies), Melanie is sweet, kind, caring, and loving. She desperately wants to be treated like everyone else, doing her best to suppress her urge to feed on flesh. Yet, we see her locked up in a cell that evokes images of incarceration. We see her tied to a wheelchair, verbally abused, and belittled by soldiers, especially Sergeant Eddie Parks. To Dr. Caroline Caldwell, Melanie is nothing more than a disposable experiment, a means to an end. Caldwell’s goal is to find a cure, not to save Melanie, but to save the humans, most of whom happen to be white. It’s hard to ignore the echoes of the "sacrificial Negro" trope here.
Now, once again, none of this would hit the same if Melanie were white. Because she is Black, every interaction takes on added weight. Every cruel remark, every dismissive glance, every painful moment feels different. Her emotions, raw and heartbreaking, resonate more deeply. The casting choice doesn’t just change the story, it changes how we, as the audience, process the story.
But then there’s the ending, my favorite part (spoiler alert). In a crucial moment, Dr. Caldwell begs Melanie to sacrifice herself to save humankind. When Melanie presses her for an explanation, Caldwell is forced to admit that the hungries are alive. That’s when Melanie delivers the chilling question, “Then why should it be us that die for you?” This moment gave me chills. It’s yet another example of how casting a Black lead changes everything. Think about all the sacrifices Black individuals have made for others throughout history. Think about all the Black characters in Hollywood who have died so their white best friend could live. Not this time.
Melanie chooses herself. She chooses the "others," the hungries, who have no control over their condition and are no less alive than the unaffected humans. She wants them to be treated as such. And then, in a brilliant twist, the power dynamic shifts. In the final scenes Dr. Caldwell and Sergeant Eddie Parks are dead, actually most of the humans will die after Melanie burns the pods, and Helen, the kind behavioral psychologist who loved Melanie, is now the one locked away, this time in an airtight cabin, seemingly incarcerated. Meanwhile, the hungries roam free, and Helen teaches them from behind the glass. Twist!
Take a moment to reflect on these characters, these films, and ask yourself, how different would the story, the relationships, and the overall meaning have been if the protagonists were white? Now, expand that question to other films you’ve seen. How does casting shape the way you perceive the characters, their dialogue, their relationships, and the message the film conveys? Consider the era in which these films were made. How does the time period influence these stories, these characters, and the way audiences interpret them? And most importantly, how did the choice to cast a Black protagonist change cinema, Hollywood, and audiences? What did it mean for Black individuals to finally see themselves represented, not as side characters, not as stereotypes, but as the lead?
