The Jim Crow era of racial discrimination and segregation dealt a heavy blow to the African-American film industry, which was already a fragile ecosystem developing in an adversarial world that considered its purveyors inferior solely because of the colour of their skin.

An era of silence stifled the ‘50s and the ‘60s, in particular, but it did not prevail. Martin Luther King Jr. rose up along with other brave and bold speakers, musicians, poets, and activists, having had more than enough. Their speeches and dreams of a better world shone a powerful light on American society. Tragedy did follow, as expected from a society embroiled in its fantasies of white supremacy, but better days came, as well.

Finally, the ‘70s saw a slow but steady rebirth of Black American cinema. This new generation of black filmmakers brought the truth of their experiences centre stage. From cinematic gems of the Blaxploitation era to Prince’s ‘Purple Rain’ (1984), the bountiful growth of Black Americans in cinema is worthy of notice and praise. Iconic movies came forth and extraordinary storytellers pushed boundaries. Most recently, we’ve seen a splendid expansion into genres otherwise monopolised by white filmmakers—see Ryan Coogler’s ‘Black Panther’ (2018) and Jordan Peele’s ‘Get Out’ (2017) as just two examples. But it’s important to observe the greats that came before them. The pioneers of the ‘80s, the ‘90s, and the ‘00s that reshaped the Black American narrative on the silver screen into something honest, breath-taking, heart-breaking, and undeniably unique.

DANIEL KALUUYA AND JORDAN PEELE ON THE SET OF ‘GET OUT’ (2017), ©JUSTIN LUBIN/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

Forty Years of Black Masterpieces

There are plenty of illustrious titles to work with but, as usual, a selection must be made for the sake of brevity. One film that has withstood the test of time, over and over again, is Spike Lee’s ‘Do the Right Thing’ (1989). Its success is mainly owed to its sincerity and Mr Lee’s uncanny ability to deliver a wide range of characters without swerving into dangerous stereotype territory. With the United States always described as a melting pot of sorts—albeit idealistically, it’s no surprise that the eminent Black director chose New York as the ‘melting pot’ for his colourful and beautifully diverse characters before he brings it all to a boiling point.

The story is brilliant in its navigation of inner-city life and the struggles brought forth by racism—the latter a defining trait of Black American existence. ‘Do the Right Thing’ examines the very ethics of violence and prejudice before it offers a startling truth: good and bad are abstract moral constructs, at best. Few people are truly evil, yet so many have the potential for kindness. Mr Lee tells us that racism can be overcome, that there is beauty in diversity, and that Black Americans have been looked down upon for far too long. It was as relevant in 1989 as it is today.

‘DO THE RIGHT THING’ (1989), ©40 ACRES & A MULE FILMWORKS

‘Inside Man’ (2006) is yet another seminal work by Spike Lee—one of many, I might add. Packed with ridiculous amounts of tension and thrills, the film offers a glimpse into one of the greatest heists ever imagined by a screenwriter’s mind. With a stellar cast and exceptional performances under Mr Lee’s equally proficient direction, ‘Inside Man’ made history for Black Cinema, garnering plenty of awards along the way, including Movie of the Year at the AFI Awards and nods from both the AAFCA (African-American Film Critics Association) and BET Awards.

Antoine Fuqua’s ‘Training Day’ (2001) is such a rich work of cinema that it is rightfully referenced in film school studies today. It got Denzel Washington an Academy Award for his portrayal of a streetwise but crooked cop charged with training Ethan Hawke’s wet-behind-the-ears rookie. While the majority of Mr Washington’s thespian performances brought him forth as a model for righteousness and decency, his Alonzo offers a different take—a man who has tasted the dark side of power, who has forced fragile partnerships and alliances with the underbelly of city crime, and who cannot be ousted without losing everything, including his life.

Mr Fuqua’s directorial talent transforms the screenplay penned by David Ayers into an extraordinarily chilling drama about corruption within the ranks of those who are supposed to serve and protect.

‘TRAINING DAY’ (2001), ©WARNER BROS.

Before he dazzled Hollywood with ‘Black Panther’, Ryan Coogler wrote and directed ‘Fruitvale Station’ (2013), which tells the story of Oscar Grant’s last day before he was shot in the back and killed by a police officer. This Sundance Grand Jury Prize and Audience Award winner delivers a punch in the gut with its opening—security footage of the real Oscar Grant, and with its ending—a clip of his daughter, now left without her father. It was a complicated project to undertake, given that there were living relatives that Mr Coogler and his lead, Michael B. Jordan, had to consider.

Oscar Grant is portrayed in a realistic manner. He is a flawed man trying to make better choices and aware of his responsibilities toward his family, which is why he decides to take the BART train on the last night of 2008 and of his life. ‘Fruitvale Station’ does not intend to offer any kind of remedy for the social issues of police brutality aimed particularly at Black Americans. It only recreates the final hours of a man who did not deserve to die the way he did.

‘FRUITVALE STATION’ (2013), ©FOREST WHITAKER’S SIGNIFICANT PRODUCTIONS

Based on Sapphire’s novel ‘Push’ and directed by Lee Daniels, ‘Precious’ (2009) is a tour de force. Rarely do we see comedians sliding into dramatic roles with an ease that delivers staggering performances. Among them, I can think of Jim Carrey and Robin Williams. Yet there is also Mo’Nique, who is simply outstanding as the Harlem mother from hell who sexually abuses her illiterate teenage daughter, exquisitely portrayed by a young Gabourey Sidibe.

Sidibe’s Precious is a girl who has known nothing but trauma and misery, yet she finds kindness and freedom in others who help elevate her until she severs ties with her mother and becomes a better version of herself. Beyond Mo’Nique’s Oscar-worthy performance, however, what I also find memorable about this film is that it got Geoffrey Fletcher an Academy Award for the screenplay, making him the very first Black American to win a Best Screenplay Oscar (Original or Adapted).

‘PRECIOUS’ (2009), ©LIONSGATE

‘Barbershop’ (2002) by Tim Story offers a softer take on black culture. It’s a light-hearted comedy drama that features Ice Cube, Cedric the Entertainer, Eve, and Michael Ealy—an easy-to-digest movie offering realistic conversations to which viewers have been glad to relate. Before there were talk-shows like ‘Meet the Press’, barbershops used to be great meeting spots for people to go and chat about pretty much everything while getting a haircut. Mr Story’s film follows a family-owned barbershop and those who are sewn into its very fabric, employees and customers alike. It registered impressive box office figures, enough to later release two sequels and a spinoff for Queen Latifah.

Few movies have rattled their audiences like Steve McQueen’s ‘Twelve Years a Slave’ (2014), based on the eponymous book written by Solomon Northup. The film, equal parts powerful and excruciating through its depiction of 19^th century America and the superb performances of Chiwetel Ejiofor, Lupita N’yongo, and Michael Fassbender, tells the story of Solomon Northup. His abduction and bondage into slavery despite having been a legally free black man forms the core of this devastating account and it brings forth a troubling question for its Black American viewers. What would they do if they were forced into Mr Northup’s circumstances? Would they fight back with everything they’ve got, or would they become pliable as a means of self-preservation in a society designed to keep them down, like he did?

STEVE MCQUEEN AND CHIWETEL EJIOFOR ON THE SET OF ’12 YEARS A SLAVE’ (2013), ©JAAP BUITENDIJK/FOX SEARCHLIGHT PICTURES

‘Moonlight’ by Barry Jenkins took the festival circuit by storm and won Best Motion Picture of the Year at the Oscars. For good reason, too. A character like Chiron had never been portrayed in Black American cinema before, thus proving that the range devised for black men in movies could spread wider and could offer new, enthralling dimensions. With only a couple of exceptions, few black characters had struggled with masculinity up to that point. Adding Naomie Harris and Mahershala Ali’s resplendent renditions (let us not forget that Mr Ali won an Academy Award for this role) only served to turn ‘Moonlight’ into a cinematic phenomenon and proof that black films have a lot more to give, still.

Prior to ‘Selma’ (2014), Ava Duvernay was already enjoying a rapid ascension among the filmmaking ranks of Hollywood. It was this biopic oeuvre that brought forth the massive reaches of her talent and vision. It is imperative to observe the sheer force of will that she exudes as a Black American woman in an otherwise mostly white industry.

‘Selma’ does more than just recount that epic march for voting rights that carried Martin Luther King Jr. from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, however. It gives us the man behind the legend, a being of titanic dreams and complexities, whose faults and qualities are presented from multiple angles—a feat genially accomplished through David Oyelowo’s interpretation and Ms Duvernay’s directorial guidance.

‘SELMA’ (2014), ©PATHÉ

F. Gary Gray had already done music video work with Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, and other rap artists of the era that saw the rise of N.W.A. before he took on the gargantuan challenge of telling their story in ‘Straight Outta Compton’ (2015).

Naturally, the end result had everything that the iconic rap group’s fans could wish for: N.W.A.’s permission to use their original music; fantastic performances from the three leads, one of them being none other than O’Shea Jackson Jr., who played the role of his father, Ice Cube; and the kind of energy that is not easily found nor easily forgotten. It was the U.S.’s number one film for three weeks in a row and held a stupefying box office figure of $200M, but it will be remembered not only as a commercial success, but also as the now-second highest-grossing music biopic—after ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ (2019).

‘STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON’ (2015), ©UNIVERSAL PICTURES

Forty Years of Black Directorial Brilliance

Many have garnered praise and attention for their works in Black American cinema, though few have become powerhouse names with multiple titles under their belts.

Naturally, we have Spike Lee at the forefront. We’ve already touched on ‘Inside Man’ and ‘Do the Right Thing’, but those are only two of his most popular movies. Once he made his debut with ‘She’s Gotta Have It’ (1986), his first feature-length film, Mr Lee did not stop creating and telling cinematic stories with roots deeply sunk into African American culture in one form or another.

Through ‘Malcolm X’ (1992), he built a biographical profile of the authoritative and controversial Black Nationalist leader, following Malcom X’s rise from his early days as a small-time gangster to his ministry, his advocacy for the Nation of Islam and discourse for civil rights—though his approach was always more aggressive than Dr King’s. The esteemed director’s more recent foray into racial issues gives us ‘BlacKkKlansman’ (2018), which tells the true story of Ron Stallworth, a black police officer played by John David Washington who managed to infiltrate the local Ku Klux Klan branch in Colorado.

Known best for his studies of race relations, urban crime and poverty, and colourism issues within the black community, Spike Lee has earned his Academy Awards and Golden Globes nods for some of his works—mostly for ‘Do the Right Thing’. Finally, his Oscar win came in 2019 for Best Adapted Screenplay, which he shared with Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, and Kevin Willmott for ‘BlacKkKlansman’.

‘BLACKKKLANSMAN’ (2018), ©FOCUS FEATURES

John Singleton became a household name of prolific Black American cinema with Oscar-nominated ‘Boyz n the Hood’ (1991), leaving an indelible mark on the industry with other works of true depth such as ‘Poetic Justice’ (1993), starring Janet Jackson, Tupac Shakur, and Regina King, and ‘Shaft’ (2000), which gave us Samuel L. Jackson like nobody had ever seen him before. The film world lost him in 2019, but his legacy remains.

I, for one, remember his critique of American studios, in particular, regarding their refusal ‘to let African Americans direct black-themed films’ during an event at Loyola Marymount University, a speech which later became viral. ‘They ain’t letting the black people tell the stories’, he added, and for good reason. Great films have come out of Hollywood with Black Americans as the heroes and heroines, in projects helmed by white directors. The nuance and authenticity are lost, however, regardless of artistic quality. There is something that only those who live through a specific experience can add to make a story feel undeniably real.

‘BOYZ N THE HOOD’ (1991), ©COLUMBIA PICTURES

Allen and Albert Hughes, better known as the Hughes Brothers, have become more popular recently across television and streaming audiences thanks to ‘The Defiant Ones’ (2017), a biographical documentary series that studies the business relationship between Dr. Dre and Jimmy Iovine, both heavy influences on contemporary culture. But before this Emmy-nominated project, the Hughes Brothers first garnered acclaim for ‘Menace II Society’ (1993) which despite having been frequently compared to ‘Boyz n the Hood’, it offers nothing downright pleasurable in its viewing experience. Unlike John Singleton’s signature piece, this Hughes Brothers’ showpiece is ugly and violent, painfully realistic and lacking in uplifting specks of hope. It pushes the viewers into wishing more from the world, since the characters clearly couldn’t.

They followed up with a slightly less bleak but just as troubling tale of black men who survived the Vietnam War, though not without emotional and psychological scars. ‘Dead Presidents’ (1995) approaches a rather difficult but necessary subject—the way in which the US government uses and abuses young men (in this case, especially black men) before it abandons them upon their return home. Pushed by PTSD, substance abuse, and the difficulties of providing for their families, these men who once fought for their country in the mosquito-infested jungles of Vietnam become criminals and spiral downwards until they land in prison. Few films have managed to incapsulate life after the war better than ‘Dead Presidents’.

‘DEAD PRESIDENTS’ (1995), ©CARAVAN PICTURES

There are plenty more Black American filmmakers who have left their own impressions onto the silver screen. F. Gary Gray made waves beyond ‘Straight Outta Compton’ with ‘Set It Off’ (1996) and ‘Friday’ (1995), the former a black-female-driven action piece featuring Jada Pinkett Smith, Vivica A. Fox, and Queen Latifah, and the latter a chilled comedy starring Ice Cube and Chris Tucker—both films illustrating the director’s versatility and ability to tackle a complex range of themes and genres whilst keeping his cast and screenplays black.

Gina Prince’s ‘Love & Basketball’ (2000) also deserves an honourable mention, splendidly split into quarters and unravelling like a basketball game that tells a story of… well, love and basketball at the centre of a complicated relationship between Omar Epps’s Quincy McCall and Sanaa Lathan’s Monica Wright. Allow me to applaud George Tillman Jr.’s ‘Soul Food’ (1997), too, as one of the first Black-American-led movies I remember watching, a tale of love and family and all the complications that come attached, set around the dinner table.

‘SOUL FOOD’ (1997), ©FOX 2000 PICTURES

And last, though certainly not least, a tip of the hat should go to Robert Townsend’s ‘The Five Heartbeats’ (1991), which earned a nomination for Outstanding Motion Picture from the Image Awards (NAACP). While its story is fictional, ‘The Five Heartbeats’ tells the familiar tale of Black American artists’ struggle during the ‘60s, at the climax of racial tensions in America. It carries twists of its own, however, with the singers’ personal demons threatening to shatter the troupe’s integrity in front of their growing audiences.

While hoping that the film industry will continue to grow, evolve, and embrace racial diversity and its potential, one can only look forward to what the future might hold for Black American cinema. There are some hard truths waiting to be told along with great stories.

Following his extraordinary debut, ‘Get Out‘ (2017), which earned him an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay—and well deserved, might I add, Jordan Peele has outdone himself with ‘Us’ (2019). The 40-year-old director recently said that the success he had with his first feature-length film gave him more time and room with his second, and it shows.

CREDIT: UNIVERSAL PICTURES

‘Us’ is by all intents and purposes an exquisite work of the horror genre. Its screenplay, production and post-production are all testament to it. While there are noticeable elements of directorial style that Peele also used in ‘Get Out’, the Wilsons’ story manages to stand out on its own, quite beautifully. It follows Adelaide, Gabe, Zora and Jason Wilson as they’re faced with their nightmarish and murderous doppelgangers while vacationing in Santa Cruz. Joining this well-off family of African-Americans are their white and slightly richer friends, the Tylers—Kitty, Josh, and their twin daughters, Becca and Lindsey. 

Beyond this family-holiday-gone-wrong setup and past the pop culture and horror classics references that are masterfully sprinkled throughout the film, a portrait of America itself is painted with elegant, yet striking subtext. It doesn’t take us long to understand Peele’s vision. We see the parallels, and we recognize how the stereotypes were cast aside to make way for fresh, truthful and enticing characters. 

We’re sucked into their race for survival, as they’re faced with themselves. But Red, Abraham, Umbrae and Pluto, the Wilsons’ copies, aren’t monsters. They’re Americans. They say so themselves. Jumping between present day and 1986, Peele does a fantastic job of holding a mirror up to an entire nation. We see the good, the charming, the bad and the terrible.

CREDIT: CLAUDETTE BARIUS/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

But beyond the metaphysics of America so neatly woven into the horror that unfolds over the course of just a little under two hours, lies a story of survival. It gives us people whom we’re naturally inclined to accept as normal and harmless, and it forces them to face one of Peele’s worst nightmares—the darker, savage and demented versions of themselves. Copies that make animal sounds and move like predators in the night. Doubles that seek to consume and destroy their originals, one beat at a time. It is honestly superb.

True to its genre, ‘Us’ doesn’t overdo the horror tropes, though I did find certain moments quite irritating. I’m not a fan of the sudden loud noises that unexpectedly cut through a moment of high-tension silence. While they have the desired effect of startling the audience, they’re short-lived and overdone, particularly in movies that don’t have much else to show for. However, Peele keeps those to a minimum, which is much appreciated and mostly serves the basic purpose of anchoring ‘Us’ into its genre, if nothing else.

CREDIT: CLAUDETTE BARIUS/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

Aiding in the establishment of terror, the score is particularly haunting in the opening scene. It was composed by Michael Abels, also responsible for Peele’s ‘Get Out’. The combination of cold Latin chants and Afro rhythms manages to set the stage for what’s about to happen, along with the expanding shot of white rabbits in their cages. It does the job of sending shivers down this viewer’s spine, for sure. 

But the most fascinating musical contrast was the use of Beach Boys and N.W.A. during the assault on the Tylers’ residence. It starts out with ‘Good Vibrations’, a jolly reprieve from the horrors we just witnessed at the Wilsons’ place, and it quickly descends into stark madness and violence as Kitty, Josh, Becca and Lindsey’s own doppelgangers come out and cut their way into this reality. It’s a cocktail that mixes melancholia with animalistic rage, and one of the film’s highlights.

The sound editing itself is a powerful weapon that Peele uses in telling the story. Every single raindrop, the sharp swish of scissors in the killers’ hands, every step, and every bone crackling—are all individual pieces in the puzzle, which becomes frighteningly clear by the end of the movie. Sound amplifies the experience. It puts the viewer right there, smack in the middle of the Wilsons’ ordeal.

CREDIT: CLAUDETTE BARIUS/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

Even more so, the fluid camera movements and the close character shots further serve to make us participate, whether we want to or not. The choice doesn’t belong to us. We’re drawn along the sandy beaches of Santa Cruz and into the Wilsons’ cosy summer home, at first. We’re hypnotized by young Adelaide’s 1986 incursion into the mirror funhouse as she whistles ‘Itsy-bitsy-spider’, and we’re just as startled as she is when she’s faced with her double from below, and not just another reflection of herself. Later on, we’re unable to take our eyes off adult Adelaide, as she descends into the tunnels to take on her nemesis—herself. 

As an added layer to this work of audio-visual craftsmanship, the production design is, too, deserving of a round of applause. Peele’s directorial vision wouldn’t be complete without the artful and carefully measured visual implements. The set design, in particular, is complicit in everything that happens. It tells its own story, down to the ‘Itsy-bitsy-spider’ in the Wilsons’ present-day summer home. The spaces are used to their maximum potential. They are the cameras’ playground and the actors’ worlds, and they represent the canvas on which ‘Us’ is painted. The colours are compelling, darkened but bold in some instances, brightened but frosted in others.

Everything that Peele uses in the background of this film paints a rich and cohesive picture telling us one thing, and one thing only: There is something wrong here, something that is simply off. What is it? Well, rest assured that the end does not disappoint in delivering the answer.

CREDIT: CLAUDETTE BARIUS/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

As we go deeper into the movie, next, it is worth discussing the actors’ performances, as well. They are visceral and gripping, honest in their form. Lupita Nyong’o splits herself splendidly between Adelaide Wilson and Red, her evil version. She’s graceful and deeply emotional as the woman, the wife, and the mother of two whose sole purpose in the midst of all this is to keep her family safe. She’s almost mechanical and inhuman, devious and soulless as Red, the one leading the revolt and the rise of all doppelgangers from the underground tunnels. It is safe to say, wholeheartedly even, that Lupita Nyong’o carries ‘Us’ from beginning to end with her masterful play.

Not far behind her is Winston Duke, who portrays Gabe, the slightly oblivious husband, and Abraham, the brutal monster that uses animal-like sounds to communicate with other males of his ‘underground’ species. At times, Gabe annoys us as much as he annoys Adelaide. He seems to be completely unaware of what’s about to happen to him or his family—though who could blame him? Besides his wife’s recent hard-to-explain premonitions and without prior knowledge of her childhood experience in the mirror funhouse down by the beach, how can we expect Gabe to react any differently? Granted, he is not the brightest of the Wilsons, clearly evidenced by his decision to confront his family’s doubles in the driveway with a baseball bat, and his desire to settle in the Tylers’ home, dead bodies be damned. But we can’t help but root for Gabe. We even breathe a sigh of relief as we see him survive one scene or another.

CREDIT: CLAUDETTE BARIUS/UNIVERSAL PICTURES

A truly spectacular presence is Elizabeth Moss playing Kitty Tyler. She doesn’t get as much screen time as the others, but she certainly makes her mark through a stirring performance. We feel the unadulterated delight as Dahlia, her mysterious clone, puts on lip gloss for the first time. We witness Dahlia’s unspoken madness as she tries to control the story, to make sure that what she’s doing up here serves its almost-holy purpose. Her dedication is remarkably coherent, despite the savagery.

Let us not ignore Shahadi Wright Joseph and Evan Alex, either. They portray Zora and Jason Wilson, respectively, as well as their evil and downright psychopathic doubles. The children aren’t mere secondary characters pushed to do things in order to advance the plot, like you’d normally see in one too many horror films. They do not exist to warn their parents, to be paralyzed by fear or, worst of all, to be victims. No, they are the young Wilsons, and they fight as hard as their parents against the invading look-alikes. We have the absolute privilege to watch them transform—from innocent and slightly apathetic kids, into unexpected warriors… and killers.

Despite the violence, however, Peele doesn’t let the story get dark beyond redemption. His brave and shameless use of humour, mostly through Gabe Wilson, is a much-needed injection to soothe our stretched nerves as we watch this struggle unfold. The male lead isn’t the fearless hero with a quest. He’s the comic relief. The first character you think will get killed before the movie ends. Like a loyal sidekick, Tim Heidecker’s Josh Tyler is almost as ‘bad’ as Gabe. They make us smile. The dollops of humour relieve the tension, every time, just before we’re plunged into another chapter of the Wilsons’ inferno.

Once you’ve reached the scrolling credits, you understand that ‘Us’ delivered three notable blows throughout its performance. The first, of course, comes when the doppelgangers come into the Wilsons’ home and turn their lives upside down. The second arrives with the realisation that Adelaide and her family aren’t the only ones dealing with killer copies of themselves. The third is the crown jewel, and it comes at the very end, courtesy of Adelaide herself. Rarely do I find myself walking out of a movie and unable to get that ending out of my head. It’s not a feeling I’d want to lose anytime soon.

With a whopping $71 million box office so far, it’s no wonder that ‘Us’ is getting such a buzz. The sudden change of tone in the visual storytelling, from the seemingly happy family with a slightly traumatised mom and a goofy dad to the crippling nightmare of a home invasion. The foreshadowing that is so neatly embedded into the setting and the characters’ words and actions, that you don’t even put two and two together until the very end—as you should. The thoughtful and rigorous process of character development that shows us exactly what we’re capable of, what lengths we’re willing to go to in order to survive and defend ourselves and our loved ones. The execution in its entirety, from page to screen.

All these elements point to one undeniable truth: Jordan Peele’s ‘Us’ delivers as a work of cinematic craftsmanship and horror masterpiece, and then some.