Ganja & Hess (1973)
Bill Gunn
"I'm standing in front of Pan American, and the driver can't miss me, cause I'm that evil."
Ganja & Hess is a film I've been waiting almost a year to see, after my wife bought me a BluRay copy for my birthday in November of 2017. I almost watched it then, but I really wanted to dig into it during Spooktober, especially since my 2017 goal for 2018 was to watch more films starring and created by people of color. And this may be the alpha and omega of African American horror.
I knew absolutely nothing about the film before Emily bought it for me, and I'm not sure I'd even heard about it. The only reference point I had was that it stars Duane Jones, the lead actor in Night of the Living Dead. I knew he didn't act much on film following Romero's masterpiece, but it was cool to see him in something else. Especially in a film like this where he can really spread his wings a little bit more as his character isn't so constrained to one particular situation.
In doing a small amount of research, I also learned that the film was remade by Spike Lee as Da Sweet Blood of Jesus in 2014, and as far as I can tell, it's almost shot-for-shot, so my motivation to see it is limited (sort of like the 1999 version of Psycho starring Anne Heche and Vince Vaughn, which, ugggghhhh). But it goes to show how seminal this film was for black filmmakers, especially at a time when primarily black films were exploitative in nature, or were having their strings pulled by white studio executives. Ganja & Hess is Bill Gunn's vision through and through.
Unfortunately for Gunn, after its premiere and warm reception at Cannes, the film was chopped to pieces on release (from a running length of almost 2 hours down to 80 minutes!), and would be repackaged by various distributors as a blaxploitation horror film under a few different titles. The Kino Lorber BluRay I own explains this at the beginning, and the film had to be pieced back together using several different prints.
That's not a good way for a film to gain any traction, but like the famous quote about Velvet Underground and Nico, only 10,000 people saw it, but they all went on to make their own films.
Anyway, I've got some Lamont Dozier playing on Spotify, so let's get into this.
What's it about: Ostensibly, it's about a PhD archaeologist named Hess Green, who is attacked by his mentally unstable assistant during a weekend visit to Hess's lavish estate. Hess is stabbed with a cursed ceremonial dagger from Africa, which gives him an insatiable addiction for blood. Eventually, the assistant's wife arrives at the estate to look for her husband, falls in love with Hess, and marries him. Then she learns the terrible secret, and things get kinda murky. There's a lot of subtext and weirdness that is probably purposely difficult to parse.
What was interesting: When I see a film I don't understand, I'm big enough to admit it was beyond me. And this was a little beyond me. The version that I saw was of extreme variable quality, so you could tell which scenes made it into the final 35 mm print and which were discovered in some dusty storeroom somewhere years after they were hacked out. This added an unintentional visual element to the plot, as parts that were more difficult to understand were also more difficult to see.
Overall, the acting is superb. Duane Jones is so fucking cool in this film, and this role should really be what he's remembered for. The way he speaks to those around him exudes confidence and disinterest in the way that an addict genius might approach situations in life. Think Daniel Day Lewis in Phantom Thread. Duane Jones is really that good.
Bill Gunn plays Hess's mentally deranged assistant, and Emily and I agreed he either had some latent schizophrenia, took something mind altering, or may just be one of the greatest actors in history. He has a soliloquy about contemplating suicide that is equal parts heart rending and unfiltered insanity. He had the wide-eyed frenzy that those with uncontrolled mania or psychosis have in the Emergency Room, only this was captured on film.
Marlene Clark, who plays Ganja, is maybe the greatest stone cold bitch in film history. She drips with sexuality in every scene, and the way she talks down to Hess's butler within moments of meeting him demonstrates that Ganja knows the rest of the world is so far beneath her that it does not deserve even a split second of kindness or serious attention. That she falls so deeply in love with Hess within hours of meeting him says something significant (I think).
There's a lot more to unpack here. The American black experience, the desire to assimilate while also understanding where the blood that flows through the veins of African Americans comes from, is shown as a profoundly confusing experience. It's also one that will suck you into schizophrenic madness if you try to marry both sides together. How can someone be happy and self actualized when one is trying to make sense of being ripped away from thousands of years of heritage and history?
Addiction is also a large part of the film. Hess hates himself and his addiction to blood, but is still drawn to it, and gives himself over to it willingly. He even eventually draws Ganja into that world, and they use sex to entrap their victims to exsanguinate them. One of the more powerful scenes in the film involves Hess's tryst with a prostitute holding a small infant. The aftermath is stark: she is lying on the bed, torn open and bleeding, and Hess sits on the edge of the mattress, sated. As he leaves the flophouse room, the now abandoned infant wails louder and louder. Addiction breeds tragedy and madness.
This is art, through and through. It's not always easily understood, nor does it follow the conventions set forth by establishment filmmakers, but it certainly evokes thoughts and emotions in away that poorly made films bankrupt of vision do not. If that's not interesting, I don't know what is.
Other films I thought of: God, who knows... I mean there are some cheap blaxploitation answers I can give, like Blackula and Scream Blackula Scream, but those are weak sauce compared to the vision of Ganja & Hess. There's a touch of it in Shaft in Africa, but even that doesn't really compare. It's kind of in a league of it's own, which may say something about the short shrift that black filmmaking got during the second golden age of film in the 1970's.
Miscellany: The color of the blood in Ganja & Hess is so disgustingly red, and reminded me of the fake blood that Romero used in Dawn of the Dead. It's like hyper red, and I'm guessing it tasted terrible, based on how unhappy Jones and Clark looked while chugging it down.
Recommendation: Hard to say. It's not exactly something you just throw on during any old weeknight, but if you're in the mood for something challenging, independent, and wholly different, dig in!
Remarkably Good
"I'm standing in front of Pan American, and the driver can't miss me, cause I'm that evil."
Ganja & Hess is a film I've been waiting almost a year to see, after my wife bought me a BluRay copy for my birthday in November of 2017. I almost watched it then, but I really wanted to dig into it during Spooktober, especially since my 2017 goal for 2018 was to watch more films starring and created by people of color. And this may be the alpha and omega of African American horror.
I knew absolutely nothing about the film before Emily bought it for me, and I'm not sure I'd even heard about it. The only reference point I had was that it stars Duane Jones, the lead actor in Night of the Living Dead. I knew he didn't act much on film following Romero's masterpiece, but it was cool to see him in something else. Especially in a film like this where he can really spread his wings a little bit more as his character isn't so constrained to one particular situation.
In doing a small amount of research, I also learned that the film was remade by Spike Lee as Da Sweet Blood of Jesus in 2014, and as far as I can tell, it's almost shot-for-shot, so my motivation to see it is limited (sort of like the 1999 version of Psycho starring Anne Heche and Vince Vaughn, which, ugggghhhh). But it goes to show how seminal this film was for black filmmakers, especially at a time when primarily black films were exploitative in nature, or were having their strings pulled by white studio executives. Ganja & Hess is Bill Gunn's vision through and through.
Unfortunately for Gunn, after its premiere and warm reception at Cannes, the film was chopped to pieces on release (from a running length of almost 2 hours down to 80 minutes!), and would be repackaged by various distributors as a blaxploitation horror film under a few different titles. The Kino Lorber BluRay I own explains this at the beginning, and the film had to be pieced back together using several different prints.
That's not a good way for a film to gain any traction, but like the famous quote about Velvet Underground and Nico, only 10,000 people saw it, but they all went on to make their own films.
Anyway, I've got some Lamont Dozier playing on Spotify, so let's get into this.
What's it about: Ostensibly, it's about a PhD archaeologist named Hess Green, who is attacked by his mentally unstable assistant during a weekend visit to Hess's lavish estate. Hess is stabbed with a cursed ceremonial dagger from Africa, which gives him an insatiable addiction for blood. Eventually, the assistant's wife arrives at the estate to look for her husband, falls in love with Hess, and marries him. Then she learns the terrible secret, and things get kinda murky. There's a lot of subtext and weirdness that is probably purposely difficult to parse.
What was interesting: When I see a film I don't understand, I'm big enough to admit it was beyond me. And this was a little beyond me. The version that I saw was of extreme variable quality, so you could tell which scenes made it into the final 35 mm print and which were discovered in some dusty storeroom somewhere years after they were hacked out. This added an unintentional visual element to the plot, as parts that were more difficult to understand were also more difficult to see.
Overall, the acting is superb. Duane Jones is so fucking cool in this film, and this role should really be what he's remembered for. The way he speaks to those around him exudes confidence and disinterest in the way that an addict genius might approach situations in life. Think Daniel Day Lewis in Phantom Thread. Duane Jones is really that good.
Bill Gunn plays Hess's mentally deranged assistant, and Emily and I agreed he either had some latent schizophrenia, took something mind altering, or may just be one of the greatest actors in history. He has a soliloquy about contemplating suicide that is equal parts heart rending and unfiltered insanity. He had the wide-eyed frenzy that those with uncontrolled mania or psychosis have in the Emergency Room, only this was captured on film.
Marlene Clark, who plays Ganja, is maybe the greatest stone cold bitch in film history. She drips with sexuality in every scene, and the way she talks down to Hess's butler within moments of meeting him demonstrates that Ganja knows the rest of the world is so far beneath her that it does not deserve even a split second of kindness or serious attention. That she falls so deeply in love with Hess within hours of meeting him says something significant (I think).
There's a lot more to unpack here. The American black experience, the desire to assimilate while also understanding where the blood that flows through the veins of African Americans comes from, is shown as a profoundly confusing experience. It's also one that will suck you into schizophrenic madness if you try to marry both sides together. How can someone be happy and self actualized when one is trying to make sense of being ripped away from thousands of years of heritage and history?
Addiction is also a large part of the film. Hess hates himself and his addiction to blood, but is still drawn to it, and gives himself over to it willingly. He even eventually draws Ganja into that world, and they use sex to entrap their victims to exsanguinate them. One of the more powerful scenes in the film involves Hess's tryst with a prostitute holding a small infant. The aftermath is stark: she is lying on the bed, torn open and bleeding, and Hess sits on the edge of the mattress, sated. As he leaves the flophouse room, the now abandoned infant wails louder and louder. Addiction breeds tragedy and madness.
This is art, through and through. It's not always easily understood, nor does it follow the conventions set forth by establishment filmmakers, but it certainly evokes thoughts and emotions in away that poorly made films bankrupt of vision do not. If that's not interesting, I don't know what is.
Other films I thought of: God, who knows... I mean there are some cheap blaxploitation answers I can give, like Blackula and Scream Blackula Scream, but those are weak sauce compared to the vision of Ganja & Hess. There's a touch of it in Shaft in Africa, but even that doesn't really compare. It's kind of in a league of it's own, which may say something about the short shrift that black filmmaking got during the second golden age of film in the 1970's.
Miscellany: The color of the blood in Ganja & Hess is so disgustingly red, and reminded me of the fake blood that Romero used in Dawn of the Dead. It's like hyper red, and I'm guessing it tasted terrible, based on how unhappy Jones and Clark looked while chugging it down.
Recommendation: Hard to say. It's not exactly something you just throw on during any old weeknight, but if you're in the mood for something challenging, independent, and wholly different, dig in!
Remarkably Good
The Stepfather (1987)
Joseph Ruben
"All we need is a little order around here."
After the heavy lifting of Ganja & Hess, and not willing to trudge up to bed before 10 pm, I threw Stepfather on the TV, needing just 86 more minutes of horror before throwing in the towel on the day. I hadn't dug into this b-movie franchise in a long time, after catching most of Stepfather III with my dad in the early 90's.
There's not a whole lot to say about the history of these movies, because I think it was only modestly popular, and is only kind of good in a funny sort of way.
What's it about: A deranged serial killer who floats from town to town, looking for single women with children. Eventually he floats into the life of our suspicious-of-his-motives teenage protagonist and her mother. Hilarity ensues.
What was interesting: It's pretty fun watching Locke from Lost lose his shit and do brutal murders. He's a surprisingly good actor, and definitely the best part of the movie. Unfortunately, a majority of time is spent on the teenage daughter or the brother of one of the Stepfather's previous victims who is trying to hunt him down. Their pre-third act parts are dumb and do not involve screaming or stabbing.
It's also a pretty good premise! There's probably a way to make it without all of the b-movie trappings, but my god, why would you want to?
Other films I thought of: The Stepfather III (wherein the titular character, no longer played by Terry O'Quinn, encourages his paraplegic step-son to stop being so lazy and get out of his wheelchair) and uh...The Hand That Rocks the Cradle I guess? But this is better. Just watch this.
Miscellany: There's a scene where O'Quinn tries to break down a bathroom door, and holy shit, does he ever go for it.
Also, one for the "Jesus Christ, c'mon guys" pile: the movie tells us several times that the teenage protagonist is only 16, but we get a long, pointless nude shower scene right before the climactic battle against dad takes place. Pointless b-movie boobs can be fun, but uh, maybe not when they're supposed to be 16 year old pointless boobs. Pervy directors gonna perv.
Recommendation: Got 90 minutes to kill? Are you a Terry O'Quinn superfan? Want to get deep into the Locke mythos? Well, pop over to Amazon Video and have yourself a time, friend.
Remarkably Bad
"All we need is a little order around here."
After the heavy lifting of Ganja & Hess, and not willing to trudge up to bed before 10 pm, I threw Stepfather on the TV, needing just 86 more minutes of horror before throwing in the towel on the day. I hadn't dug into this b-movie franchise in a long time, after catching most of Stepfather III with my dad in the early 90's.
There's not a whole lot to say about the history of these movies, because I think it was only modestly popular, and is only kind of good in a funny sort of way.
What's it about: A deranged serial killer who floats from town to town, looking for single women with children. Eventually he floats into the life of our suspicious-of-his-motives teenage protagonist and her mother. Hilarity ensues.
What was interesting: It's pretty fun watching Locke from Lost lose his shit and do brutal murders. He's a surprisingly good actor, and definitely the best part of the movie. Unfortunately, a majority of time is spent on the teenage daughter or the brother of one of the Stepfather's previous victims who is trying to hunt him down. Their pre-third act parts are dumb and do not involve screaming or stabbing.
It's also a pretty good premise! There's probably a way to make it without all of the b-movie trappings, but my god, why would you want to?
Other films I thought of: The Stepfather III (wherein the titular character, no longer played by Terry O'Quinn, encourages his paraplegic step-son to stop being so lazy and get out of his wheelchair) and uh...The Hand That Rocks the Cradle I guess? But this is better. Just watch this.
Miscellany: There's a scene where O'Quinn tries to break down a bathroom door, and holy shit, does he ever go for it.
Also, one for the "Jesus Christ, c'mon guys" pile: the movie tells us several times that the teenage protagonist is only 16, but we get a long, pointless nude shower scene right before the climactic battle against dad takes place. Pointless b-movie boobs can be fun, but uh, maybe not when they're supposed to be 16 year old pointless boobs. Pervy directors gonna perv.
Recommendation: Got 90 minutes to kill? Are you a Terry O'Quinn superfan? Want to get deep into the Locke mythos? Well, pop over to Amazon Video and have yourself a time, friend.
Remarkably Bad
Recommendation: Got 90 minutes to kill? Are you a Terry O'Quinn superfan? Want to get deep into the Locke mythos? Well, pop over to Amazon Video and have yourself a time, friend.
Remarkably Bad
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