Justin Simien’s Hollywood Black, a thought-provoking yet somewhat unfocused four-part docuseries, delves into the significant but often overlooked contributions of African Americans to cinema history. The series carries a few semi-contradictions.
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| 'Hollywood Black' director Justin Simien. MGM+ |
While the documentary critiques the inadequate coverage of this topic in film schools, it draws inspiration from Donald Bogle’s book Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, and Bucks, a foundational text in cultural studies for the past 50 years.
The series presumably seeks to reach the broadest modern audience, yet it airs on MGM+, a streaming service with a small, nostalgic footprint that struggles for relevance today.
Hollywood Black, though rich in intriguing conversations and captivating clips, falls short of being a definitive documentary on African American contributions to cinema. Still, even the most knowledgeable viewers will likely gain new insights and discover overlooked films to explore.
Directed by Dear White People and Haunted Mansion filmmaker Justin Simien, who serves as both the thoughtful narrator and enthusiastic on-screen moderator, the series critiques the narrow focus of film school curricula. Simien notes that the teaching often jumps from Oscar Micheaux to blaxploitation to Spike Lee, leaving much of Black cinema history unexamined.
While the academic field has evolved since Simien’s own education, his goal remains clear: "I want everyone to rethink cinema history, because whoever controls cinema, controls history."
Simien contends that Black talent has been integral to Hollywood since its inception, though often "hidden in plain sight." The series emphasizes Micheaux as a pioneering independent filmmaker, introduces viewers to the should-be-legendary performer Bert Williams, critiques The Birth of a Nation for its blockbuster racism, and contextualizes Al Jolson’s The Jazz Singer within the tradition of minstrelsy.
While not revolutionary, this approach lays a solid foundation for understanding an industry where controlling, appropriating, and stoking fear about Black bodies and voices has always been central to its operations.
Simien pays homage to iconic figures like Lena Horne, with stories recounted by her granddaughter Jenny Lumet, and Paul Robeson, highlighting their undeniable screen presence and distinctive voices. Yet, his focus leans more toward the business aspects of Black cinema.
He explores the corporate conditions that allowed waves of Black cinematic excellence, from Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song to Boyz n the Hood to Black Panther, to flourish. He also questions why so many filmmakers, who seemed poised for remarkable careers, ended up with only a single opportunity.
The documentary struggles when it comes to discussing the artistry of Black cinema. While it offers exceptional insight into the formal majesty and influence of films like Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust, many other films and figures are presented in a more vague manner. Viewers will understand why Oscar Micheaux is a staple in introductory film courses, but Simien doesn’t quite convey why anyone would be excited to watch his films.
As a result, the films sometimes get overshadowed by their historical significance and necessity for informed discourse, rather than being celebrated for their aesthetic and rhetorical merits. This approach leads to gaps and oversights; for example, Marlon Riggs is mentioned more for how Tongues Untied influenced Simien personally than for Riggs’ broader body of work. This might leave new viewers less informed about Riggs’ films and less likely to seek them out.
This focus is particularly puzzling given that many of Simien’s interviewees are accomplished filmmakers and creators, including Ava DuVernay, Gina Prince-Bythewood, Issa Rae, Ryan Coogler, Forest Whitaker, and Lena Waithe. Simien attempts to spark deeper discussions by watching film scenes with these subjects, but the results are mixed.
The talking heads, beautifully shot against black backdrops or emerging from darkness in metaphorically clear ways, often show more casual admiration for older films they might not have seen before. Newer films, on the other hand, elicit enthusiastic praise. While it’s understandable that it’s easier to find people passionate about Love & Basketball or Waiting to Exhale, it’s still a limitation that few are willing to delve into why Oscar Micheaux’s work is compelling.
Simien and his guests engage in conversations that are often funny, insightful, and revealing, especially when individuals like DuVernay and Prince-Bythewood are willing to challenge his views rather than simply agree. The most meaningful insights come from those who have actively worked to push the industry toward inclusivity through initiatives and mentorship opportunities, though there’s also value in the lighter and more emotional contributions from Gabrielle Union or the sharp observations of W. Kamau Bell, who has been a standout in countless cultural documentaries.
However, the broadness of Simien’s initial declarations makes the limitations of his corrective approach somewhat disappointing. With only four hours to cover such a vast topic, it’s understandable why certain prominent figures are discussed but not present to share their own perspectives. The absence of voices like Spike Lee, Barry Jenkins, and Pam Grier is noticeable, though not entirely surprising.
Tyler Perry, who recently featured in his own Amazon documentary, might not have seen the need for additional self-promotion, and the available contributors praise him so thoroughly — even Simien, who previously critiqued Perry in Dear White People — that his presence feels less crucial.
There are conversational threads that are introduced but not fully explored. For instance, how can one discuss who gets to tell certain stories while celebrating films like In the Heat of the Night, 12 Years a Slave, and Waiting to Exhale without addressing that these stories were directed by a white Canadian, a Black Brit, and a Black man, respectively?
While Simien does make an effort to include often overlooked or forgotten directors like Charles Burnett (Killer of Sheep) and Charles Lane (Sidewalk Stories) for brief discussions, the brevity of these segments can leave viewers wanting more.
How do you create a documentary about revolutions in Black storytelling without giving even a small nod to television and the opportunities it has provided? Television has been crucial for both the on-screen talent featured in the doc and several directors who, despite having only one feature film, have become prolific in TV.
However, if Simien’s main thesis is that many stories remain untold in most accounts of Black Hollywood, it might actually indicate progress that he ends up leaving so much unexplored.
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