Kobi Libii's first film, "The American Society of Magical Negroes,"
begins on a promising note. Aren, an endearing artist portrayed by Justice
Smith, stands near a yarn sculpture in a gallery, appearing spindly and
awkward. He seems lost among the moving patrons and busy waiters. It takes a
moment for us to realize that Aren is the creator of the contemplative wool
work and is struggling to sell it to the mostly white collectors at the group
show.
From left: 'American Fiction,' 'The American Society of Magical Negroes' and 'I'm a Virgo' MGM/COURTESY EVERETT COLLECTION; FOCUS FEATURES/COURTESY EVERETT COLLECTION; PETE LEE/PRIME VIDEO |
They find the abstract piece difficult to understand; they repeatedly inquire about the material ("Is it ... yarn?") while keeping their distance. These brief encounters cleverly highlight a visual art world that has historically favored Black figurative artists.
After being mistaken for a server
and abruptly fired by his gallerist, Aren experiences a minor crisis. He then
finds himself wandering through the gothic halls of The American Society of
Magical Negroes, an organization responsible for maintaining peace by
monitoring levels of white discomfort across the country. The society's name
alludes to the trope of Black characters in media who exist solely to assist
white protagonists in their personal growth. Roger, a pragmatic wizard played
by David Alan Grier, recognizes Aren's "talent": despite lacking any formal training, Aren
demonstrates a remarkable ability to prioritize the needs of white people over
his own. Roger sees potential in this and suggests putting it to good use.
The film sets itself up to satirize
the concept of "magical negroes"
and critique liberal sentimentalism regarding interracial relationships.
However, instead of fully embracing this potential for sharp commentary, the
film mostly offers mild observations that might have been more impactful in the
past. Aren's initial task as an official Magical Negro is to manage the
emotional well-being of Jason, an entitled white male designer at a tech
startup, portrayed by Drew Tarver. Libii, who also wrote the screenplay, uses
their friendship to delve into the consequences of Aren's habitual
self-effacement. Additionally, a romance blossoms between the hesitant young
wizard and his co-worker, Lizzie, played by An-Li Bogan.
It's not surprising that "The American Society of Magical Negroes"
falls short of expectations. The film is part of a recent trend of tepid Black
satires that seem stuck in addressing post-racial illusions from the Obama era
instead of confronting the harsh reality of the present. These works come after
a period of flourishing Black satire, with standout films like Jordan Peele's
"Get Out" and Boots Riley's
"Sorry to Bother You," as
well as TV shows like Donald Glover's "Atlanta." These projects
succeeded, in part, because they dismantled the convenient myth that America
could absolve itself of its racist history simply by electing a Black
president.
Now that it's widely acknowledged
that the Obama presidency didn't heal America's racial divisions, what should
racial satires focus on? How can they remain relevant in the current national
context? "The American Society of
Magical Negroes," like "American
Fiction," another well-meaning project that recently won an Oscar for
best adapted screenplay, fails to address these questions. It struggles to
harness the political potential of satire, failing to challenge audiences for
their role in perpetuating racial issues or, as John Milton once described the
genre, to "aim high, and dare
greatly."
Before "Get Out" brought racial satire to the mainstream and won an
Oscar, there were groundbreaking films that paved the way, pushing the subgenre
beyond mere jokes to reveal profound truths. Spike Lee's "Bamboozled" (2000), Ivan Dixon's
adaptation of Sam Greenlee's novel "The
Spook Who Sat by the Door" (1973), and Melvin Van Peebles' absurdist
comedy "Watermelon Man"
(1970) all offered sharp, clear-eyed insights into race, capitalism's impact on
culture, and the influence of white supremacy on personal relationships. These
films didn't hesitate to critique everyone, including the filmmakers
themselves.
"Bamboozled" seethes with Spike Lee's frustrations, offering
humor so cutting that, as Ashley Clark describes in his book "Facing Blackness: Media and Minstrelsy in
Spike Lee's Bamboozled," viewers may find themselves laughing quietly,
if at all, out of a mix of guilt and visceral terror. The film follows the
tragic story of Pierre Delacroix (played by Damon Wayans), an African American
TV writer who creates a minstrel show in a desperate attempt to save a failing
network. It's a harsher critique of Hollywood than Robert Townsend's "Hollywood Shuffle" (a precursor to
"American Fiction") and
stands as a prime example of daring satire that "adventures dangerously."
"Bamboozled" not only delivers a powerful message about
Hollywood's racist foundations through its gritty aesthetic and intense energy
but also implicates everyone involved, from the white television executive
(played by Michael Rapaport) to the mixed-race audiences who contribute to
Pierre's show's success. In Spike Lee's view, the true minstrel show is the
American entertainment industry itself. Through its scathing commentary on
topics like fashion (including a parody commercial of Tommy Hilfiger), police
brutality, and classism within the Black community, "Bamboozled" achieves the hallmark of successful satire—leaving
a lasting impact that lingers long after the laughter subsides.
"The Spook Who Sat by the Door," while less overtly
confrontational than "Bamboozled,"
is no less courageous. Like "The
American Society of Magical Negroes," the film confronts the specter
of racist violence. However, while Aren joins an organization to combat it, Dan
Freeman (played by Lawrence Cook) infiltrates the CIA to incite conflict.
"The Spook Who Sat by the Door"
follows Dan's journey as he pretends to be subservient to become the agency's
first Black agent, a move forced by political pressure to integrate. After
resigning, the film transitions from satire to political thriller, as Dan
returns to Chicago as a social worker, training young Black men to resist
oppression. The bureaucratic satire at Langley serves as a backdrop for a
compelling narrative of Black empowerment.
The intense criticism and near
erasure faced by "The Spook Who Sat
by the Door" and "Bamboozled"
underscore the militant honesty of these satires. "Watermelon Man," although a more conventional studio
production, still managed to shock audiences. In this Kafkaesque tale, a white
bigot wakes up one day as a Black man. While this premise could have led to a
sentimental exploration of how even self-professed liberals can harbor racism,
Melvin Van Peebles subverts expectations by casting Godfrey Cambridge to play
Jeff Gerber as both Black and white. This choice challenges Hollywood's
acceptance of blackface, elevating "Watermelon
Man" from a "feel-good"
satire to a more provocative piece of cinema.
"The American Society of Magical Negroes" loses its satirical
edge as the romantic subplot between Aren and Lizzie takes center stage. This
shift in focus dilutes the film's sharp humor and misses opportunities to
explore deeper themes, such as the impact of biracial identity on Aren's
relationship with whiteness. The film also fails to fully develop the potential
of the Magical Negro organization, with only one throwaway joke touching on
this aspect.
In contrast, recent series like
"Swarm" and Boots Riley's
"I'm a Virgo" (both on
Amazon) offer a more compelling vision for racial satire, rooted in a political
reality that often surpasses fiction's strangeness. "I'm a Virgo," starring the excellent Jharrel Jerome as Cootie,
a 13-foot Black boy in Oakland, is a coming-of-age story that embraces
hyper-absurdity and silliness akin to Riley's "Sorry to Bother You." However, the series takes bold risks,
portraying a world where everything and everyone is commodified. It explores
complex themes of late-stage capitalism, cultural manipulation, political
education, and the essence of building a grassroots movement.
"I'm a Virgo" delves into racial capitalism, the concept that
racism and capitalism are intertwined and must be addressed together. Despite
its satirical elements, the series tells a heartwarming story of a sheltered
boy who rebels against his parents to explore the world. Along the way, he
finds a group of outsiders who become his chosen family, boosting his
self-esteem. The juxtaposition of Riley's harsh vision of America and the
tender coming-of-age tale enriches the narrative. In contrast, "The American Society of Magical Negroes"
and "American Fiction"
(which struggles to update its 2001 source material) feel hesitant, with their
satirical and emotional aspects failing to blend or ignite each other
effectively.
One of the most moving storylines
in "I'm a Virgo" involves a
character who dies after being denied medical care at a local hospital due to
lack of insurance. The show's seemingly absurd premise serves as a powerful
metaphor for capitalism's slow erosion of life. In today's America, where
headlines are filled with alarming issues like climate change, artificial
intelligence, genocide, and fascism, creating a compelling racial satire
requires embracing absurdity and humanity while keeping the social commentary
sharp and incisive.
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