Has the movie industry–and the average moviegoer–been conditioned to only want Black movies rooted in overcoming struggle and oppression?
We’re all familiar with the hackneyed portrayal of young love found in practically all teenage romantic movies today: white, middle-class, hetero, suburban teen struggles to find themselves before heading to college. While in recent years, films such as Love, Simon and To the All the Boys I’ve Loved Before have upended the traditional love model, I also find myself questioning: where are the innocent rom-com movies that feature Black (and particularly dark-skinned) teenagers? Why are Black and brown kids not afforded the same luxury of telling care-free, lighthearted stories like their white counterparts?
And why are their stories always riddled with struggle?
Examining the 2015 film Brotherly Love illustrates the difference between white and Black movie portrayals effectively: In the movie, teenage Jackie (played by Keke Palmer) falls in love with Chris, a gang member who ends up shooting her brother June, another member of a rival gang, in cold blood. She is also revealed to be pregnant by Chris, who later goes to jail for murder.
The storyline lies in stark contrast to that of the recently-released Netflix film, The Perfect Date, whose series of events is far less wretched: boy meets girl, they flirt, argue and end up together before happily going off to college. The end.
What’s that about?
Natalie Dube, a film and television postgraduate at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, asserts that an uncomplicated story would be an unrealistic depiction in Black cinema, as the history of Black lives is so deeply rooted in pain. “We have so much going on in our communities, we have essentially forgotten joy,” she explains. “It’s unclear whether a film about Black joy would even be successful because pain sells; people are able to relate to it, or sympathize with it.”
We have so much going on in our communities, we have essentially forgotten joy.
–Natalie Dube
Using Dube’s logic as a springboard, it is easy to see why most Black stories are “struggle stories”; pain sells and Black people’s lives are the gold mine. Unfortunately, this depiction of Black people has become the norm and has painted us as a monolith whose identity is defined by battling against forces of oppression and strive– slavery, police brutality, poverty etc.
Marvel’s Black Panther provided an alternative: Black bodies were not used as mere sites of pain but were instead depicted as autonomous, unburdened, whole characters. While the blockbuster briefly addressed America’s history of slavery and tensions between African diasporic groups, the story’s premise is unfortunately still rooted in slavery and racism.
Award-nominated South African director and film writer Sinesipho Makaula echoes mine and Dube’s thoughts: “The way our lives are depicted in Hollywood is rooted in our history of pain, racism and slavery,” she says. “In fact, it’s so deeply rooted that the world does not see Black lives beyond its tainted history; this is all Black can be.” Considering the extent to which slavery and colonialism dismantled Black lives, one can see why it would seem unrealistic to write films about Black joy.
Makaula suggests that films are primarily for the purpose of escapism. This means that these films are essentially an unrealistic depiction of whomever; this is evident in the way romantic comedies follow an unrealistic standard. We watch them for entertainment; but with this in mind, why do Black films have to be realistic and rigid? I would argue that in as much as white characters’ representation is varied, the same can be done for Black characters. While our history may be riddled with pain–and it is necessary for us to tell those stories from our perspective–I believe this can be done while also showing different perspectives and of Blacks that live various, wide-ranging experiences: where are the stories of the rich Black teens that are not in the hood? Where are the Black teen films where drugs or crimes are not a key factor in the story?
Tyler Perry’s work is particularly interesting: while he explores Black American lives, he does so in a way which also enforces stereotypes and perpetuates problematic issues like colorism. The depictions of his characters are often rooted in stereotypes with very little done to subvert them. I believe a healthier exercise would be for Black characters in film to be afforded representation that is not one dimensional. A director who has demonstrated in the best way is perhaps Jordan Peele: his film debut Get Out dealt positions racism through the ‘sunken place,’ where we reside while we are controlled by the master. His second movie, Us, featured a dark skinned cast explored the issue of class in America–not racism or slavery. Peele’s approach was refreshing: often times Black skin is used as a signifier to an impending discussion of racism and slavery. I suggest that other film makers try Peele’s approach when creating Black films and recognize that Black people are not a monolith but rather a people with varied life experiences, all of which deserve to be heard.
