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Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from the 1890s to Present

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From King Kong to Candyman, the boundary-pushing genre of the horror film has always been a site for provocative explorations of race in American popular culture. In Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from 1890's to Present, Robin R. Means Coleman traces the history of notable characterizations of blackness in horror cinema, and examines key levels of black part From King Kong to Candyman, the boundary-pushing genre of the horror film has always been a site for provocative explorations of race in American popular culture. In Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from 1890's to Present, Robin R. Means Coleman traces the history of notable characterizations of blackness in horror cinema, and examines key levels of black participation on screen and behind the camera. She argues that horror offers a representational space for black people to challenge the more negative, or racist, images seen in other media outlets, and to portray greater diversity within the concept of blackness itself. Horror Noire presents a unique social history of blacks in America through changing images in horror films. Throughout the text, the reader is encouraged to unpack the genre's racialized imagery, as well as the narratives that make up popular culture's commentary on race. Offering a comprehensive chronological survey of the genre, this book addresses a full range of black horror films, including mainstream Hollywood fare, as well as art-house films, Blaxploitation films, direct-to-DVD films, and the emerging U.S./hip-hop culture-inspired Nigerian "Nollywood" Black horror films. Horror Noire is, thus, essential reading for anyone seeking to understand how fears and anxieties about race and race relations are made manifest, and often challenged, on the silver screen.


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From King Kong to Candyman, the boundary-pushing genre of the horror film has always been a site for provocative explorations of race in American popular culture. In Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from 1890's to Present, Robin R. Means Coleman traces the history of notable characterizations of blackness in horror cinema, and examines key levels of black part From King Kong to Candyman, the boundary-pushing genre of the horror film has always been a site for provocative explorations of race in American popular culture. In Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from 1890's to Present, Robin R. Means Coleman traces the history of notable characterizations of blackness in horror cinema, and examines key levels of black participation on screen and behind the camera. She argues that horror offers a representational space for black people to challenge the more negative, or racist, images seen in other media outlets, and to portray greater diversity within the concept of blackness itself. Horror Noire presents a unique social history of blacks in America through changing images in horror films. Throughout the text, the reader is encouraged to unpack the genre's racialized imagery, as well as the narratives that make up popular culture's commentary on race. Offering a comprehensive chronological survey of the genre, this book addresses a full range of black horror films, including mainstream Hollywood fare, as well as art-house films, Blaxploitation films, direct-to-DVD films, and the emerging U.S./hip-hop culture-inspired Nigerian "Nollywood" Black horror films. Horror Noire is, thus, essential reading for anyone seeking to understand how fears and anxieties about race and race relations are made manifest, and often challenged, on the silver screen.

30 review for Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from the 1890s to Present

  1. 5 out of 5

    Emily

    "Horror films come out of the imaginations of a diverse cadre of image-makers." The documentary Horror Noire was one of the best things I watched last year, and I was very excited to learn that it was based on a book. This book is very well-researched and informative, and I learned about a lot of movies that I haven't seen. I think the documentary and book are really good companions - the book goes a little more in-depth into the synopses, but getting to see people's faces while they talk about m "Horror films come out of the imaginations of a diverse cadre of image-makers." The documentary Horror Noire was one of the best things I watched last year, and I was very excited to learn that it was based on a book. This book is very well-researched and informative, and I learned about a lot of movies that I haven't seen. I think the documentary and book are really good companions - the book goes a little more in-depth into the synopses, but getting to see people's faces while they talk about movies and characters adds a whole extra layer. I'm glad I was finally able to read this book! In case you're interested in reading it, I was able to rent a copy of the e-book for my Kindle.

  2. 5 out of 5

    Jennifer

    Coleman's Horror Noire offers a fascinating exploration of race in American culture through an examination of the roles Blacks played in front of and behind the camera in horror films from the 1890s through the late 2000s. Coleman, who's a professor in both the department of Communication Studies and Afroamerican and African Studies at University of Michigan Ann Arbor, spends time upfront drawing the distinction between Black horror films and Blacks in horror films (the former having a narrative Coleman's Horror Noire offers a fascinating exploration of race in American culture through an examination of the roles Blacks played in front of and behind the camera in horror films from the 1890s through the late 2000s. Coleman, who's a professor in both the department of Communication Studies and Afroamerican and African Studies at University of Michigan Ann Arbor, spends time upfront drawing the distinction between Black horror films and Blacks in horror films (the former having a narrative focus that calls attention to racial identity, the latter being just what it sounds like), then does a brief overview of everything pre-1930s before launching into a more thorough and thematic decade-by-decade examination. Her writing as she offers a mix of history, biography, filmography, and analysis is straightforward and lucid, avoiding the worse of academese except in quotes she's pulled from other works. The only issue I really had with Horror Noire was the author's very broad definition of what constituted "horror." While it's true that one woman's bedtime story is another woman's tale of creeping horror (I'm lookin' at you, Prince Too-Charming-To-Worry-About-Consent!) and that genre definitions are fluid, some of the films included, particularly the religious ones featured in the section on the 1940s, didn't fit the bill for me. Other than that, my only other disappointment was that Coleman didn't make use of what seemed like the world's most obvious jumping-off point, the opening scenes of Scream 2 where Jada Pinkett Smith and Omar Epps (amid other deconstructions) debate the role of blacks in horror movies. But then, maybe it was too obvious? Aside from those minor quibbles, Horror Noire is an educational and entertaining look at an under-examined genre through a cultural lens we should use more often. But fair warning - expect it to treble your Netflix queue.

  3. 4 out of 5

    Richard

    Robin R. Means Coleman takes us through the history of Blacks and Black representation in horror movies, focusing of course more on Blacks as represented in movies made by Whites since the majority of the canon is under that banner. Coleman, through extensive research and experience with horror movies, breaks down Black representation, its heights and valleys (and, when you get into films as early as Birth of a Nation, where a valley of racist imagery is being kind). The era of Blacksploitation, Robin R. Means Coleman takes us through the history of Blacks and Black representation in horror movies, focusing of course more on Blacks as represented in movies made by Whites since the majority of the canon is under that banner. Coleman, through extensive research and experience with horror movies, breaks down Black representation, its heights and valleys (and, when you get into films as early as Birth of a Nation, where a valley of racist imagery is being kind). The era of Blacksploitation, moments when people of color have taken the opportunity to tell the story rather than be the residual sacrificial lamb, or initial death, or comic relief. Of course, this book isn't just a scree, but Coleman gives credit where it's earned, like Night of the Living Dead and The Thing, and of course notes where the gaps appear. I really loved how elegantly and completely Coleman identified the problems of the Magical Negro trope, how it dehumanizes Black characters and shows to what extent a Black character needs to be considered at all human. There is also a documentary stemming from this book that isn't just a recap of Coleman's points but takes it further into marvelous extents. This book should be required reading--not just for horror fans, but just so you can see the limits we continually suffer with in our media.

  4. 4 out of 5

    Tati Lopatiuk

    Leitura bem interessante, dá pra aprender muito sobre o contexto de produção de muitos filmes desde a invenção do cinema e como eles se encaixam em questões sociais como racismo, homofobia e misoginia.

  5. 5 out of 5

    Ana Paula

    Um livro COMPLETÍSSIMO para discutir a representação e participação negra no cinema de horror! Que trabalho de pesquisa e texto maravilhosos!

  6. 5 out of 5

    Tom Goulter

    This is a fascinating book, very clever and full of observations that cast a whole new light on many of the best horror movies. Coleman is the kind of horror viewer who makes the whole genre better for her participation.

  7. 4 out of 5

    juicy brained intellectual

    robin r. means coleman thankfully doesn't do dense theory like, say, carol j. clover but she does offer a lot to feminist-friendly horror criticism/history. this is a fantastic overview of black ppl in horror and she brings two important ideas to the table: "blacks in horror" vs "black horror" and her Black Enduring Woman, which is a sister in theory to clover's tired Final Girl. one thing that bummed me out a little, for entirely personal preferential reasons, is that while she spent a lot of ti robin r. means coleman thankfully doesn't do dense theory like, say, carol j. clover but she does offer a lot to feminist-friendly horror criticism/history. this is a fantastic overview of black ppl in horror and she brings two important ideas to the table: "blacks in horror" vs "black horror" and her Black Enduring Woman, which is a sister in theory to clover's tired Final Girl. one thing that bummed me out a little, for entirely personal preferential reasons, is that while she spent a lot of time addressing wes craven's contributions to black horror/blacks in horror (the people under the stairs, the serpent and the rainbow, vampire in brooklyn) she never talked about the opening to scream 2 where phil stevens (omar epps) and maureen evans (jada pinkett smith) talk the role of blacks in mainstream horror waiting in line to see an entry into scream's meta stab series, shortly before they are brutally murdered. this doesn't take away from the book at all, it's just something i would have liked to see.

  8. 4 out of 5

    ElphaReads

    This is a must for horror fans. While it was written in 2011 so it's not as up to date as it could be, it traces, analyzes, and explores the role of Black people in American horror films from the 1890s to the early 21st century. From BIRTH OF A NATION to KING KONG to WHITE ZOMBIE to NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD to CANDYMAN, Coleman goes in depth as he slowly deconstructs how Black people have functioned in horror films as time has gone on, and how the Black film community has made responses to the w This is a must for horror fans. While it was written in 2011 so it's not as up to date as it could be, it traces, analyzes, and explores the role of Black people in American horror films from the 1890s to the early 21st century. From BIRTH OF A NATION to KING KONG to WHITE ZOMBIE to NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD to CANDYMAN, Coleman goes in depth as he slowly deconstructs how Black people have functioned in horror films as time has gone on, and how the Black film community has made responses to the white dominated genre. I'd be VERY curious to see an update of this with analyses on GET OUT and the upcoming US. Important history and information that all horror fans should read up on.

  9. 4 out of 5

    Viola

    Updated related review for August 2021. The "Candyman" Reboot Subverts Cinematic Tropes of Black Suffering At one point in the long-awaited new film Candyman, billed as a “spiritual sequel” to the 1992 cult horror flick by the same name, a character is heading toward an inevitable confrontation with the monster. We’ve seen this moment a thousand times. The character knows now that evil is afoot. She knows that it’s of a supernatural variety. Blood has been shed. Her every step is measured and caut Updated related review for August 2021. The "Candyman" Reboot Subverts Cinematic Tropes of Black Suffering At one point in the long-awaited new film Candyman, billed as a “spiritual sequel” to the 1992 cult horror flick by the same name, a character is heading toward an inevitable confrontation with the monster. We’ve seen this moment a thousand times. The character knows now that evil is afoot. She knows that it’s of a supernatural variety. Blood has been shed. Her every step is measured and cautious. We can hear the creaking. We are tensed, ready for the jump scare. She comes upon a door, slowly opens it. On the other side is a long stairwell leading down to an eerie cellar. We know that she must go down there. She knows that she must go down there. She considers the dark path before her for a moment before gently but decisively shutting the door. “Nope,” she says. Watching a screener, I imagined audiences losing it at this particular moment. How many times have we watched horror films in which the protagonist makes the inexplicable choice to go further into danger just to find out what’s down there? For Black viewers, this habit is racialized: This is white-people shit, the joke goes. They obviously don’t have enough to be afraid of in real life, so they go around looking for dangerous situations, opening the door, releasing the curse, unsealing the tomb. There’s a reason “Fuck around and find out” and its cousin, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” are Black proverbs. The protagonist and the creators of the new Candyman—co-written by Jordan Peele, Win Rosenfeld, and Nia DaCosta, who also directs—are not here to play stupid games. The original Candyman, an adaptation by the British filmmaker Bernard Rose of the British writer Clive Barker’s short story “The Forbidden,” was explicitly conceived and directed through a white gaze. The new Candyman is the first horror feature distributed by a major studio to be directed by a Black woman, DaCosta. During the making of it, she was intensely conscious that Black pain has always been a lucrative source of content for Hollywood but is rarely handled with enough consideration to keep it from effectively and constantly re-traumatizing Black viewers. “My concern is really getting into what the film is about and who the film is for,” she told me via email. “With a film like this, that traffics in Black pain and trauma, it’s imperative that it is told from a Black POV; it’s imperative that we consider the audience for whom this film could be harmful, and that we are very careful about execution.” DaCosta and her collaborators had their work cut out for them. In the original Candyman, Rose imports Barker’s tour de force of mood and shiver—a story that works as both a chiller and a meditation on class in Barker’s native Liverpool—to America, swapping in race for class. In the short story, a white academic traipses into the “drear canyons” of council housing to study graffiti, and residents there begin to tell her tales of horror that they say no one else has believed. In Rose’s film, a white academic traipses into Chicago’s Cabrini-Green projects, where Black families report being terrorized by a Black serial killer who returns from the dead when his name—Candyman (he comes bearing candy)—is invoked five times in front of a mirror. Racially speaking, the results can most generously be described as cringeworthy. The projects in Rose’s Candyman are an apocalypse, home to an egregious liberal fantasy of an oppressed and impoverished underclass. Kindhearted single mothers who work low-wage jobs deliver monologues in a theatrical Ebonics. Orphaned children roam the streets. The mass of Black families is treated as a nameless, faceless, childish people prone to superstitions and living under the shadow of an unforgiving god. The film offers up a racialized poverty Kabuki in which pain is the chief characteristic of Blackness. It doesn’t help that the imagined backstory for Candyman, dreamed up by Rose, is that he was violently murdered for lusting after a white woman, as if even in our victimization, proximity to whiteness remains a forbidden prize. .... Horror noire, the 2019 documentary on Black horror based on Robin R. Means Coleman’s book of the same title, proposes that one of the first mainstream films in the genre was not billed as one. D. W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, released in 1915, dramatizes the heroic—in its view—formation of the Ku Klux Klan, which rides to the rescue of white people everywhere when a libidinous Black man named Gus (portrayed in blackface) assaults a fragile white woman. If horror plays on the audience’s fears as a means of entertainment, The Birth of a Nation would have done so in entirely opposite ways for the country’s Black and white viewers. For white people, the character of Gus functioned as something like a predecessor to Jason Voorhees in Friday the 13th and Freddy Krueger in A Nightmare on Elm Street, an unrepentant monster who is coming for you and all that you love unless he is stopped. The film depicts the ultimate lynching of Gus as a valiant and noble act. Shortly after its release, the movie was screened at the White House for President Woodrow Wilson and his Cabinet. The Birth of a Nation is still considered path-breaking, one of the most important films in early American cinema. Therein lies the horror for the country’s Black population. Source: http://historynewsnetwork.org/article...

  10. 4 out of 5

    Queria Estar Lendo

    Horror Noire começou como uma pesquisa acadêmica da Dra. Robin R. Means Coleman e acabou dando origem a um livro e um documentário que explora a representação negra no cinema de terror desde o seu nascimento, no fim do século XIX até os anos 2000. O livro foi publicado no Brasil pela editora DarkSide Books - que nos cedeu um exemplar para a resenha. Assim que a DarkSide Books anunciou Horror Noire eu fiquei louca para ler. Gosto muito de filmes de terror e analisar a representação das minorias em Horror Noire começou como uma pesquisa acadêmica da Dra. Robin R. Means Coleman e acabou dando origem a um livro e um documentário que explora a representação negra no cinema de terror desde o seu nascimento, no fim do século XIX até os anos 2000. O livro foi publicado no Brasil pela editora DarkSide Books - que nos cedeu um exemplar para a resenha. Assim que a DarkSide Books anunciou Horror Noire eu fiquei louca para ler. Gosto muito de filmes de terror e analisar a representação das minorias em todas as mídias é algo que dou muito valor - é importante compreender o passado para que possamos mudar o futuro, certo? No começo fiquei um pouco apreensiva, com medo de estar um pouco enferrujada e me embananar na narrativa. Pensei que, por ter começado como uma pesquisa acadêmica, eu teria alguma dificuldade para embalar a leitura. Mas não foi nada disso. A narrativa é muito fácil e Dra. Robin R. Means Coleman compôs seus argumentos e análises de forma muito clara e bem definida. Ela nos deu a base e o contexto para cada um deles e guiou-nos por todo o caminho com muita paciência. O livro é dividido em décadas, e cada capítulo analise os filmes de terror que saíram naqueles anos e como retrataram os negros na tela. De expressões racistas com o uso de Black Face e a criação e fortalecimento do negro selvagem como um perigo a branquitude, até os filmes influenciados pelo movimento dos direitos civis, que buscavam o empoderamento negro, Horror Noire traça um perfil do espaço relegado aos negros no cinema de terror. E foi uma leitura para lá de interessante. É muito comum escutar que o "politicamente correto" "estraga" o entretenimento. No entanto, em Horror Noire, é fácil perceber como o entretenimento foi (e ainda é) um força poderosa que pode tanto manter e apoiar opressões, como libertar. Ao explicar o nascimento da representação negra no cinema, Robin R. Means Coleman mostra como os estereótipos pregados não eram exclusivos do nicho terror e como persistiram mesmo em décadas onde movimentos pelos direitos civis eram fortes - e até mesmo após o fim da segregação racial. Uma época em que, tecnicamente, esperava-se uma revolução na forma de tratar raça em todos os meios e círculos. Dos mais persistentes, podemos ver o negro como alívio cômico, extremamente medroso e crédulo, como um serviçal leal ao protagonista branco e, ainda, com sua representação sujeita ao blackface - que hoje em dia se esconder por detrás de uma ideia de "homenagem", ignorando a origem racista da prática. Horror Noire também nos apresenta narrativas completamente negras, em especial durante os anos 70, que buscavam empoderar negros e criar representações positivas - mas que nem sempre estavam livres de problemas, especialmente no que se referia a representação negra feminina, por exemplo. Obras que buscavam eliminar a representação do homem negro como uma ameaça aos brancos - em especial as mulheres brancas - e a ideia do negro selvagem. Mas que, em contrapartida, criaram ideias tóxicas a cerca da masculinidade negras. No entanto, um dos pontos que mais me chamou a atenção foi perceber que pouquíssimos filmes conseguiram colocar pessoas negras como personagens bem desenvolvidos e interessantes, onde a cor de sua pele não os resignava automaticamente a um minúsculo papel secundário, servo leal medroso ou vítima número um. Uma dificuldade ainda maior com a chegada dos blockbusters, que acabaram com os cinemas de bairro e minaram as produções independentes - onde grande parte das obras completamente negras eram produzidas. E isso levando em consideração cem anos de filmes de terror. O que só prova a necessidade de, cada vez mais, apoiar artistas que produzam obras que quebrem estereótipos, invertam papéis e busquem respeito para comunidades marginalizadas por séculos. Horror Noire: a representação negra no cinema de terror foi, definitivamente, uma das minhas melhores leituras do ano e vou recomendar para todo mundo! Independente de como você se sente em relação ao cinema de terror (ou cinema no geral) é um baita exercício para o pensamento crítico e o impacto do entretenimento no sistema social e na nossa formação pessoal.

  11. 4 out of 5

    OJ Svartheim

    The topic of equal rights and embracing diversity is always an important one. And as someone who's always trying to be mindful about that, as well as being a huge fan of horror movies, I was initially intrigued by how this book combined and explored these two elements. And it's done in a way that, I hope, makes the reader aware that maybe it's sometimes a little bit too easy for some of us to take certain horror tropes with a grain of salt, not so much because we don't care as it is because of t The topic of equal rights and embracing diversity is always an important one. And as someone who's always trying to be mindful about that, as well as being a huge fan of horror movies, I was initially intrigued by how this book combined and explored these two elements. And it's done in a way that, I hope, makes the reader aware that maybe it's sometimes a little bit too easy for some of us to take certain horror tropes with a grain of salt, not so much because we don't care as it is because of the somewhat oblivious acceptance that certain things in horror movies have always been this way, and it is a thoughtlessness that stems from how some of us never faced certain societal struggles. In that respect, when a book like this comes along, it should hopefully be an eye-opener for many. Don't get me wrong, it's clear that Coleman has written this with a deep passion, as much from the viewpoint of herself as a horror fan as it is from her viewpoint as an advocate for black rights, so this is in no way meant to be a book written to condemn all things horror. Instead, the message that comes through here is that many of the real-life struggles that have existed through the decades are reflected, either intentionally or subconsciously, through some of these aforementioned tropes. "Horror Noire" is very thorough in its approach; Coleman literally takes us back to the beginning of filmmaking in the late 1800s, before the term "horror movie" even existed, and she takes us on a chronological journey from there and all the way up till present day. Throughout the chapters, she does a great job at setting the film universe and real-life side by side and pointing out how the social temperature in each decade often affects the storytelling in movies, with the main focus being how people of color are represented in these stories. Or, in many cases, I should say, severely MIS-represented. The earliest decades are especially problematic, and while Coleman's writing is from an analytic and observational point of view, she still manages to make it crystal clear how disgusting the times were when it comes to racial issues, everything from mockery through white actors wearing blackface, to people of color being portrayed as uncontrollable savages. And while moving from one decade to the next, she brings up examples of how these stereotypes often linger, even when they're not so blatantly and bluntly featured anymore. As I said, the main focus of this book is the history of racism, but she also touches upon other problematic elements such as homophobia and misogyny. Another interesting idea she puts forward is the difference between "blacks in horror" and "black horror," showcasing how one category can still be deep-rooted in those same old stereotypes, while the other is meant to be more empowering. However, even here Coleman is very direct and points out how the evolution of "black horror" has not been without its own flaws along the way. It's a fascinating, occasionally upsetting read, very sobering and, as mentioned, eye-opening. One minor thing that did cross my mind, though, is that when referring to specific movies to exemplify some of the issues and elements she explored, Coleman sometimes got a little bit too caught up in giving a full synopsis of the movies when it might perhaps have sufficed to point out individual scenes that best showcased the issues she wanted to point out, so that these examples were more clear. But again, that's just a minor observation, because she manages to get the point across either way. Had this book been published just a few years later than it was, I would have loved to read Coleman's opinion on the current wave of solid "black horror" movies by the likes of Jordan Peele, compared to the things she points out about the first wave of "black horror" in the 1970s, as well as the second wave in the 1990s. All in all, I found it very interesting, and recommendable.

  12. 5 out of 5

    Kristen

    I know it's hard to shove every horror movie in this book but I would've loved a discussion on 2004's "Dawn of the Dead" starring Ving Rhames, or a note on "Return of the Living Dead 3" which quite possibly has one of the most egregious examples of a magical negro character. But, overall this was a thorough and fantastic read. (shame it was written just slightly too early and couldn't include Jordan Peeles horror rennaissence with "Get Out" but alas, that's hat the Shudder doc is for.) I know it's hard to shove every horror movie in this book but I would've loved a discussion on 2004's "Dawn of the Dead" starring Ving Rhames, or a note on "Return of the Living Dead 3" which quite possibly has one of the most egregious examples of a magical negro character. But, overall this was a thorough and fantastic read. (shame it was written just slightly too early and couldn't include Jordan Peeles horror rennaissence with "Get Out" but alas, that's hat the Shudder doc is for.)

  13. 4 out of 5

    Morgan

    Really interesting discussion of race and horror films. Made me rethink how I am discussing horror in my dissertation. Most of the films discussed were new to me--I really do not watch a lot of horror films LOL. However, I think I got more out of the documentary version/adaptation of the book, because the visuals really helped me understand some of what was described on the page.

  14. 5 out of 5

    Amy

    Coleman chronologically writes about blacks in horror films, differentiating between "Black Horror" and "Blacks in Horror." Some of the fims she speaks about, especially in the early centuries, may not qualify as horror in the traditional sense, but their depiction of racism is quite terrifying. Coleman chronologically writes about blacks in horror films, differentiating between "Black Horror" and "Blacks in Horror." Some of the fims she speaks about, especially in the early centuries, may not qualify as horror in the traditional sense, but their depiction of racism is quite terrifying.

  15. 4 out of 5

    Paul Wilson

    I liked the analysis, but too much of the text was dominated by film synopses.

  16. 4 out of 5

    Doris Raines

    HORROR BOOK .

  17. 5 out of 5

    Karen Kohoutek

    Nobody needs to me to tell them that this book is great, but it is. Read it!

  18. 4 out of 5

    Bigamama V

    Excellent start to learning about the beginnings of African Americans in Horror movies and Black Horror movies. A great companion to the documentary 'Horror Noire' on Shudder. Excellent start to learning about the beginnings of African Americans in Horror movies and Black Horror movies. A great companion to the documentary 'Horror Noire' on Shudder.

  19. 5 out of 5

    Isadora Torres

    brasileiros, leiam. já dizia et bilu: busquem conhecimento.

  20. 5 out of 5

    Sunni Jacocks

    Coleman made me feel like I was watching the films she described in not only the way that made me feel present but also in a way where I felt the history and the racism embedded in a lot of what we consider to be “great” films. I felt like Peele had read this and thought to himself, this is my new project, to make films where Blacks are at the center, no longer the jezebels, mammys, and candymans. I look forward to seeing the documentary. I’ll be at the edge of seat because this book is truly ho Coleman made me feel like I was watching the films she described in not only the way that made me feel present but also in a way where I felt the history and the racism embedded in a lot of what we consider to be “great” films. I felt like Peele had read this and thought to himself, this is my new project, to make films where Blacks are at the center, no longer the jezebels, mammys, and candymans. I look forward to seeing the documentary. I’ll be at the edge of seat because this book is truly horrifying.

  21. 4 out of 5

    Steve Wiggins

    A very good introduction to the experience of African-Americans in the horror movie genre. Sometimes an uncomfortable read, but well worth it. See a fuller review at Sects and Violence in the Ancient World. A very good introduction to the experience of African-Americans in the horror movie genre. Sometimes an uncomfortable read, but well worth it. See a fuller review at Sects and Violence in the Ancient World.

  22. 4 out of 5

    Geeky Spice

  23. 5 out of 5

    Julia Fischer

  24. 5 out of 5

    Emily

  25. 5 out of 5

    Marcos Hinke

  26. 4 out of 5

    Thaís

  27. 5 out of 5

    Rodrigo Matos da Silva Gonçalves

  28. 5 out of 5

    Kristen

  29. 5 out of 5

    Money Shaw

  30. 5 out of 5

    Anilaury Costa

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