The myth and horror of Frankenstein hold a firm place in literary tales. Yet, in horror, the importance of that story resonates throughout every level. Understanding how life, death, nature, and science are intertwined has helped launch dozens of franchises. Yet, on its own, the examination of what makes a monster can be extremely powerful. Shelly’s tale finds reverberations throughout The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster. The story of a young woman fighting to bring her brother back results in a classic yet new perspective. In conversation with films like The Blackening, Us, and Night of the Living Dead, Bomani J. Story builds a compelling narrative that examines the history of black horror cinema.
After the death of her brother Chris (Edem Atsu-Swanzy), Vicaria (Laya DeLeon Hayes) researches how to cure death. With gun violence at all-time highs in the community, Vicaria’s work is more essential than ever. However, her scientific skills put her on the radar of local dealer Kango (Denzel Whitaker). As he pressures her to work for him, Vicaria’s relationships with her father (Chad L. Coleman) and Chris’ girlfriend Aisha (Reilly Brooke Stith) are tested. When Vicaria succeeds in bringing Chris back, the creature wields strength she did not anticipate.
Much of Story’s film allows the audience to feel the importance of place. While violence appears all around the characters, their corner of the world appears safe. More importantly, the relationships and teaching they pass down to each other are essential in helping the family take care of its own. These are empathetic, community-focused characters who show their love of their neighborhood. DP Daphne Qin Wu explores the space with her light, ever-moving camera. The framing that Wu and Story build into the visuals elevates The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster above horror fodder.
At the same time, The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster does not shy away from comparisons to famed black horror films. On more than one occasion, similarities to Candyman and His House are undeniable. Doing so might be intentional, but only because Story wants to tell a real story about black neighborhoods across America. While there may be gun violence, this is only one aspect of the culture that comes from these locations.
At the same time, Story delivers a film unafraid to show the violence that ruins lives. The camera never shies away from black bodies, which are often commodified in the genre. Forcing us to live in the horror, rather than letting the film become fun as violence begins, speaks to the collective trauma many live with daily.
Nothing speaks to this trauma more than the discussion of what makes a monster. We do not meet Chris prior to his death. We only see the version that Vicaria can revive, one that is plagued with guilt and anger. It’s a brilliant piece of writing to have the creature reckon with its own feelings, which allows Vicaria to grow. The power of the screenplay resonates throughout. While the story feels a little long at times, the emotional core of the story never wavers.
The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster brings a modern tale into a unique new vision. It’s essential that filmmakers can transpose these stories across cultural divides, as this speaks to the power at its heart. This goes beyond the transfer of a Frankenstein tale. A girl, doing everything she can to bring back the person who means the world to her, should draw empathy from anyone. It’s the kind of tale we need more of to keep horror and cultural criticism in film fresh.
