The Black Guy Dies First: Black Horror Cinema from Fodder to Oscar

by Robin R. Means Coleman, Mark H. Harris

Overview

A definitive and surprising exploration of the history of Black horror films, after the rising success of Get Out, Candyman, and Lovecraft Country from creators behind the acclaimed documentary, Horror Noire.

The Black Guy Dies First explores the Black journey in modern horror cinema, from the fodder epitomized by Spider Baby to the Oscar-​winning cinematic heights of Get Out and beyond. This eye-opening book delves into the themes, tropes, and traits that have come to characterize Black roles in horror since 1968, a year in which race made national headlines in iconic moments from the enactment of the 1968 Civil Rights Act and Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in April. This timely book is a must-read for cinema and horror fans alike.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781982186531
Publisher:	S&S/Saga Press
Publication date:	02/07/2023
Pages:	336
Sales rank:	194,416
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.30(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Dr. Robin R. Means Coleman is Northwestern’s vice president and associate provost for diversity and inclusion. An internationally prominent and award-winning scholar, Dr. Coleman’s work focuses on media studies and the cultural politics of Blackness. Dr. Coleman is the author of Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from the 1890s to Present and African American Viewers and the Black Situation Comedy: Situating Racial Humor. She is coauthor of Intercultural Communication for Everyday Life. She is the editor of Say It Loud: African American Audiences, Media, and Identity and coeditor of Fight the Power: The Spike Lee Reader. She is also the author of a number of other academic and popular publications. Dr. Coleman is featured in, and executive produced, the critically acclaimed documentary film Horror Noire which is based on her book Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from the 1890s to Present.

Mark H. Harris is an entertainment journalist who has written about cinema and pop culture for over twenty years for New York magazine, Vulture, Rotten Tomatoes, About.com, PopMatters, Salem Horror Fest, Napster, MadAtoms, Pretty Scary, Ugly Planet, and THEiNDI. A lifelong horror fan, he created the website BlackHorrorMovies.com in 2005 as the premier online source chronicling the history of Black representation and achievement in horror cinema. He was a featured commentator in the acclaimed documentary Horror Noire and the Shudder series Behind the Monsters.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1: The Black Guy Dies First

Types of Black Horror Movie Deaths



Anyone who habitually roots for Black characters to survive horror movies is used to disappointment. Sometimes the best you can do is hope that the inevitable death is a good one: one that’s memorable, integral to the plot, and/or worthy of martyrdom instead of ridicule. Not all deaths are created equal, after all. Here’s the range of what you can expect, from best to worst.

Heroic Death to Save the World

If you’re gonna go out, it may as well be a death of Black Jesus–level sacrificial proportions, like using your blood to cure a global pandemic or blowing up the comments section of YouTube.

FUNERAL: 21-gun salute; casket filled with glazed donuts for the afterlife; Wiz Khalifa performs “See You Again”

Heroic Death to Save the White “Hero”

This sort of devotion to the White star might seem a bit Uncle Tom-ish to some, but within the context of the movie, it’s as prominent a death as a Black supporting character can get.

FUNERAL: 21–Nerf gun salute; Charlie Puth performs “See You Again”; White hero adopts your children

Climactic Death

You were this close to being the hero; you made it to the final showdown with the Big Bad, but it turns out you were the sidekick all along. Bummer.

FUNERAL: Eulogy given by either Oprah Winfrey or Gayle King, whoever is more available and cost-effective

Creative Body Count Death

Sure, in the big scheme of things, your death amounted to little more than padding the movie’s body count, but at least the way the killer turned your intestines into balloon animals looked cool.

FUNERAL: Held during Sunday brunch at Red Lobster; Tyler Perry booked for a five-minute appearance as Madea

Pedestrian Body Count Death

A regular ol’ knife to the gut? Really, doesn’t anyone take pride in homicide anymore?

FUNERAL: Held during Thursday early bird dinner at Hooters; Lance Crouther booked for a five-minute appearance as Pootie Tang

Opening Scene Death

“The Black Guy Dies First,” indeed. Way to beat a dead horse.

FUNERAL: Pallbearers are one-half of Milli Vanilli, two-thirds of Bell Biv DeVoe, and all the Baha Men

Off-Screen Death

If a horror movie character dies in a forest, but there are no cameras around, does it even matter?

FUNERAL: Your body’s orifices may or may not be used to smuggle cocaine through Customs; life insurance paid out in Spam sandwiches

Anonymous Death

You’re so inconsequential, you don’t even get a name—just one of dozens of people who get stepped on by Godzilla or gnawed on by zombies.

FUNERAL: Involuntary cremation via Silly String and a Bic lighter; ashes snorted by Jeff Bezos in order to attain immortality

Editorial Reviews

12/12/2022

“Unlike ‘The Black Guy,’ Black horror has managed to not only survive, but thrive,” contend Coleman (Horror Noire), vice president and associate provost for diversity and inclusion at Northwestern University, and journalist Harris in this animated chronicle. The authors examine how Black representation in horror films has changed since the 1960s, beginning in 1968 with the releases of Spider Baby and Night of the Living Dead, the former of which is an early example of the “Black guy dies first” trope. A particularly strong chapter dissects Black horror stereotypes, noting that witch doctors from such films as Child’s Play (1988) “have African origins that lead” to their portrayal as “primitive, uncultured savages,” and that the selflessness typical of the “Magical Negro” (The Stand, The Green Mile) is usually in service of a white protagonist. The authors bring appropriately sharp humor to their examination of contemporary satirical fare inspired by the success of Get Out (2017) and remark that The Forever Purge (2021), in which Black characters struggle to survive “against rich White elitists who view them as expendable,” is “like the NFL.” Coleman and Harris’s encyclopedic knowledge of horror astounds and their critiques yield fresh insights. Horror aficionados will want to take note. Photos. (Feb.)

Publishers Weekly

★ 01/01/2023

Black filmmaker Jordan Peele's Oscar-winning film Get Out signaled the mainstream horror cinematic arrival of Black actors and creators on their journey from bargain-basement projects and stereotypical bit parts, explains media studies scholar Coleman (assoc. provost, Northwestern Univ.; Horror Noire: Blacks in American Horror Films from the 1890s to Present) and entertainment journalist Harris (creator of BlackHorrorMovies.com). Chronicling the treatment of Black characters in horror movies, they name names and mark milestones of groundbreaking, innovative Black writers, directors, and performers who set the scenes for bold, unapologetic for-us-by-us Black cinema to produce horror projects that increasingly revolve around Black people in front of and behind the camera. They place the 1968 film Night of the Living Dead and the 1967 Spider Baby as ahead-of-their-time cinema with Black characters that undermined social mores of violence, sexuality, and general decorum and inspired entire subgenres within horror. VERDICT A must-have reference with a near encyclopedic, yet readable, survey of nearly 1,000 horror movies containing more than 1,500 appearances by Black characters, from minor, nonspeaking roles to the exploration of Black films that have progressively broadened Black roles in horror and in cinema as a whole.—Thomas J. Davis

Library Journal

2022-11-09
An engaging look at “the wild, wicked, waggish journey of Blacks in modern horror cinema.”

As horror movies have moved into the artistic and commercial mainstream, the genre has attracted interest for its social meaning and racial inclusiveness. Coleman’s academic work focuses on media studies and cultural politics, and Harris is an entertainment journalist and horror movie buff; both bring expertise to their collaboration. They note that for a long time, the main function of Black characters was to get the narrative rolling by being the first victim of the murderer/monster/alien/etc. In fact, the actor Tony Todd holds the record for the most screen deaths, at 24 (and counting). Coleman and Harris identify various other stereotypes, always in secondary positions. There were some outlier films, like Night of the Living Dead (1968), which had a Black man in a leadership role. That movie became the source code for the zombie genre, although it did little to help Black actors. Eventually, after decades of effort, Black actors began to break into big-budget movies in prominent roles. When they did, there was a receptive audience. Will Smith’s I Am Legend (2007), for example, made more than $256 million in the U.S. These movies were not really about the Black experience, and there were still few Black creatives in the film industry. The real turning point, however, was Get Out (2017), which won numerous awards for director/writer Jordan Peele and also earned $176 million in the domestic market. The rise of direct-to-video movies and streaming also opened new opportunities for Black filmmakers. The authors often write with their tongues firmly in their cheeks, but they make serious points about representation and depiction. They acknowledge the level of improvement but emphasize that there is still much to be done.

Coleman and Harris write with keen observation, a satirical eye, and a genuine love for their subject.

Kirkus Reviews