Killing The White Man: Revenge cinema by Black and female auteurs

‘Revenge cinema’ encompasses films where protagonists seek retribution, often reflecting a broader narrative of empowerment and resistance against historical exclusion, particularly for Black and female creators. This genre explores themes of justice, morality, and resilience, with characters facing grave transgressions and pursuing vengeance against their oppressors. Despite the cultural success and impact of seminal works of Revenge cinema by Black and female auteurs, the accolades rarely shift hands, these creators often still vying for a seat at the table. 

What are they taking revenge for? Perhaps, it has something to do with over a 100 years of cinema where Black and brown bodies have been thrown off cliffs in Tarzan films, slaughtered in Westerns by cowboys or lynched in films such as Missiippi Burning. Where women have been objectified and overpowered by the male leads in mainstream franchises such as James Bond which, until recently, seemed innocent enough and even glamorous growing up. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Exploitation of women on screen is so endless that one would not know where to start. 

Significant works in this genre of ‘payback’ include Jordan  Peele’s Get Out (2017), Ridley Scott’s Thelma and Louise (1991), and atypically, Zoë Kravitz’s Blink Twice (2024), Emerald’s Fennell’s Promising Young Woman (2020) and Greta Gerwig’s Barbie (2023). These pieces challenge stereotypes, celebrate resilience, and redefine Black or female storytelling roles, often culminating in the protagonist’s irreversible stand against their antagonist.

The Barbie Oscar snub further illustrates the barriers faced by female creators, suggesting an underlying resistance to recognising women’s contributions in film, even those with proximity to whiteness. This pattern of exclusion raises questions about the value of seeking validation from predominantly white male-created institutions. It reflects a broader industry trend where Black and female creators’ work is undervalued compared to their white male counterparts. When attempting to ‘Kill the White Man’, it seems he retaliates silently, attacking with nonchalant viewership or a lack of attention.

However, what happens when you are both Black and female trying to tell your truth through your own lens? Well, it seemed that the world was ready for that on TV when Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You garnered critical acclaim with her semi-autobiographical take on her sexual assault. In her BBC and HBO drama, she takes the revenge when she both rapes and kills the white man she believed to have attacked her in a deadly fantasy. However, even then she is suppassed by another story told by Netflix (who Michaela turned down $1million for wanting to keep all her rights) called Baby Reindeer. Another semi-autobiographical mini-series about sexual assault by a white man but the point of difference is that it’s another white man (Richard Gadd) that is also the victim and flawed hero. Amazing how the familiar story gained more Emmys, Golden Globes and accolades in general and was coincidently also owned by Netflix. Literally and historically, women can’t win!

I May Destroy You (2020), Michaela Coel

But with life, nothing is that simple. What happens when the Black woman is the perpetrator of the abuse? Is the one taking advantage of her own people? The controversy around the musical The Color Purple (2023) suggests that subversion of the existing system is futile. Though Oprah Winfrey is a self-made Black woman who produced a film about Black women overcoming adversity, it is alleged that she subjected the cast to poor treatment, no food and limited resources. Winfrey has denied those allegations. 

Revenge cinema, while illuminating marginalised experiences, cannot expect endorsement from the very structures it critiques. In the current entertainment industry, it seems Black and female auteurs are either ignored or assimilated into its modus operandi. The industry’s reluctance to embrace diversity and equality in recognition and remuneration calls for a re-evaluation of the pursuit of accolades within patriarchal systems.

Killing the white man is not a modern or insignificant feat, and is important to vary the voices of art, not just to enrich the genre, but also to match the entertainment narrative to the world we inhabit. In the pursuit of equality in the arts, instead of seeking approval within white-dominated spaces, Black and female creators should forge their own paths. 

The metaphor of “killing the white man” symbolises breaking away from traditional power structures that often ignore or assimilate diverse voices. It is societally reiterated often that Black women’s contributions are celebrated only when serving others, as seen in film roles and award-winning performances e.g. The Help. So, if we are to ‘kill the white man’, we cannot perform to his corpse, but for the living audience who feel seen in these stories. 

We should shift towards creating independent platforms that honour and prioritise marginalised voices. This includes rethinking award systems like the BET awards or establishing new ones that inherently respect and elevate Black and female auteurs. It is not enough to simply subsume his place in his space. The feat of killing the white man is one of self-reliance and the creation of spaces where diverse stories and achievements are not just an exception, but the norm.