Cinematic Slave Narratives


Good to know

The representation of African Americans, race and identity in popular media has noticeably changed in the hundred years since the emergence of modern cinema and, consequently, has shaped our biases and perceptions. The construction of race on screen influences the viewer’s identity as well as social attitudes towards others. These constructions are as complex as they are deeply personal, notably in terms of what tropes are used to represent specific racial identities and, indeed, how these form and change over time.

In this context, a new form of the historical epic, that of the cinematic slave narrative, has developed and stabilised over the past decade. In recent years, the development of the cinematic slave narrativehas been exponential; we have witnessed how “slavery has been re-introduced as a theme in American popular culture” (Hill). As Justene Hill suggests, film, television and new media have become the “safest space for viewers to contend with the complex history of slavery and race in America” (n.pag.). The struggle to understand the past and present now takes place “before a flat-screen television, through streaming movie websites, and in the comfort of movie theaters”. Films such as Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained (2012), Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave (2013), Nate Parker’s The Birth of a Nation (2016), Ava DuVernay’s 13th (2016) and television series such as The Book of Negroes (Virgo and Hill, 2015), the remake of Roots (Van Peebles et al., 2015) or Underground (Green and Pokaski, 2016) have had considerable success in the theatres and in listings ratings, as well as with critics. They have inspired filmmakers “to bring slavery to the fore of American entertainment”, offering viewers a “more vivid, and perhaps more historically accurate, representations of slaves’ lived experiences in the United States” (Hill). With their capacity to display iconic images to mass audiences and in reimagining and influencing views of history, cinematic slave narratives have become key players in the public conversation about race, representation and African-American identity.

 


Increase & popularity

Due to its popularity, the cinematic slave narrative (both film and TV series) has also become lucrative. According to IMDb, Django Unchained scored $425.4 million at the box office, 12 Years a Slave earned $187.7 million, $556 million for DuVernay’s 13th, while The Book of Negroes accrued more than $360 million in DVD sales. It is probable that since a commercial imperative tends to drive the cycle of popular themes in film, it will also impact the production of future cinematic slave narratives.

The increase in the production of cinematic slave narratives goes hand in hand with a highly divisive political climate and a general trend in black cinema to keep an informative and educational conversation at the cultural forefront. As Dexter Gabriel argues, “slave films tend to reflect the politics of the moment. … We have a hard time talking about slavery to each other, so films become the surrogate”. Moreover, the increase in black film and series productions has given black actors and characters greater agency within the industry, as well as the opportunity to portray historical figures with greater depth. For example, TV shows such as Roots or The Book of Negroes exemplify the proliferation of the long-format series, where characters may be gradually developed, and their stories more richly articulated.


Background info

It is important to consider how the political and social milieu of twenty-first-century America has contributed to the positive reception of cinematic slave narratives. Critics argue that the build-up of enthusiasm behind films about slavery has been informed by prevailing social concerns such as the accumulation of frustrations and racial tension, for instance in Ferguson, Missouri, as well as the final months of Barack Obama’s presidency and the protracted 2016 election campaign. In a time characterised by, among other issues, the resurgence of white nationalism, cinematic slave narratives have sparked considerable public dialogue about race, and continue to make a timely contribution to current debates on the role of minority groups in American society in the early twenty-first century. The release of films such as The Birth of a Nation (2016) or Moonlight (2016) also dovetailed with the #BlackLivesMatter movement and seemed to provide a belated corrective in the aftermath of the #OscarsSoWhite debate (Barnes, “Tricky Goal”). These movements were created to protest police brutality and the decades-long rise of for-profit prisons, a judicial system which appears biased against black communities, and the beginnings of the Ku Klux Klan’s rebirth in some Southern states (Archibald). As Hill suggests, in this time of political uncertainty, when right-wing populist groups are gaining traction in the press and high-level public affairs, the role of popular culture and media is essential in helping viewers take in and digest the stark reality of the “failed idea of a ‘post racial’ America”.

 


Cinematic slave narratives serve the same significant purposes as slave narratives and neo-slave narratives. First, these audio-visual narratives broaden the scholarship and discourse of the slave experience and, second, they help to tell the collective story, arguably with greater care, depth and accuracy, all the while raising awareness of the present-day consequences of slavery’s legacy.

Most directors of cinematic slave narratives have picked up on the truth-telling function of the original slave narratives, aiming to give visibility to the topic and the stories of former enslaved African Americans. Cinematic slave narratives, then, may be based on historical documents with characteristics of the slave narrative and the neo-slave narrative (e.g. 12 Years a Slave or The Birth of a Nation [2016]). Cinematic slave narratives can be based on a neo-slave narrative and incorporate elements of this narrative form (e.g. The Book of Negroes, Roots). Alternately, they can be a work of fiction (with reference to the era, a cultural artefact [such as a painting] and/or including historically accurate elements); e.g. Django Unchained, Underground and Belle (Asante, 2013).

More specifically, I define cinematic slave narratives as audio-visual narratives that are fictive re-imaginations of history, constructed with the creative license of their makers. They are usually feature-film length, with the exception of TV series. Like their literary predecessors, cinematic slave narratives usually portray North American slavery, but may be extended to cinematic narratives of slavery and slavery-like institutions in other cultures, countries and contexts (e.g. Cary Fukunaga’s 2015 Beasts of No Nation). While not necessarily aiming for historical accuracy, they convey an essential message to the audience about the abhorrence of slavery and its legacy. By basing these stories on the historical lives of enslaved men and women and by bringing them to the screen, filmmakers harness the power and mass appeal of visual storytelling to discuss American slavery and its persisting impact on contemporary US society.

Supplementing the definition offered above, in contrast to historical and neo-slave narratives, cinematic slave narratives actualise the visual tropes of the written narratives and add an audio component that is not present in the other variations of the genre. Often, they are created with the intent of making a film “that can start a conversation, that can promote healing and systemic change […] and that is made with the specific intention of change”, as Nate Parker explains in a promotional video clip for the Sundance Film Festival 2016. Slave narratives take the audience back to the beginning and put a face to the name of racism, and cinematic slave narratives have a similar goal: they tell the human story behind slavery. Whereas the slave narrative as a written genre exposes the genesis story of the American dream as a hollow concept, bringing such narratives to the big screen offers viewers a new opportunity to reflect and undergo self-examination as a society.

Definition