Mary Shelley’s seminal novel Frankenstein inspired countless works in the centuries since its initial publication in 1818, and most focus on the empathetic Creature’s narrative. The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster instead examines the mad scientist responsible, reinterpreting the archetype with righteous fury in a contemporary setting. Its strengths lie far more in the humanity of its characters and the metaphor than in the horror.
By adolescence, Vicaria (Laya DeLeon Hayes) already knows far more about death than most her age. Systemic pressures and corruption shape their neighborhood. Vicaria’s mother died long ago, her father, Donald (Chad L. Coleman), struggles to resist the pull of local drug dealer Kango (Denzel Whitaker), and the sudden, violent murder of her brother convinces Vicaria that death is a disease. The whip smart and determined teen manages to resurrect her brother, though not quite as she’d hoped. The death toll rises as her experiment escapes her control, forcing the neighborhood to confront the consequences of their actions.
Writer/Director Bomani J. Story demonstrates remarkable control of the emotional component of this Frankenstein reimagining. Early introductory scenes establishing the setting employ a home video quality as kids play under the summer sun. It’s quickly subverted by bursts of violence, from the local drug gang to police officers that exert brutal force, often lethally. There’s a restraint to these scenes; Story is more interested in the interiority of Vicaria’s home life, and it’s in the small, seemingly mundane moments where his feature debut shines. From the caring familial interactions between Vicaria and her cousins, to the profoundly affecting and satisfying way that her dad puts an aggressively racist teacher in her place. Story never condemns his antiheroine for her determination to reverse death no matter the conflicts or danger it creates.
Vicaria is, after all, just a teenager. A very clever and innovative teen forced to shoulder a burden far too heavy for her young age. Hayes impresses as Vicaria, carrying the entire movie in addition to the character’s burden. Hayes exudes a tender warmth behind the fierce exterior society demands of her. Those family moments, Vicaria’s grief, and the necessity to forge solutions because she has so few to rely upon give her mad scientist a refreshing new angle to an oft-trodden tale.
Story’s instincts to keep the Monster obscured from view for as long as possible preserves some of the mystery. Quick glimpses of a hulking frame or mangled flesh, often right before it lashes out in violence, give an unpredictable quality to Vicaria’s experiment. While it might let the audience’s imagination fill in some of those blanks, it’s often forgotten as Vicaria contends with more urgent issues, like incurring the wrath of Kango and his accomplices. It shifts the horror far away from the fantastical and more toward reality, therefore further away from the story’s inspiration.
The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster runs a classic literary horror story through a modern urban lens, connecting the mad scientist with a young woman forced to fix society’s most elusive problems. In this instance, it’s death. While less successful as a straightforward horror movie, Story’s empathetic approach combined with Hayes’s complex and nuanced portrayal makes for a profoundly human story that evokes respect and hope.
The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster made its world premiere at SXSW, release info TBA.
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