“Death is a disease.” That’s the line which opens writer/director Bomani J. Story’s powerful debut feature, The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster. In those four words, said by lead character, Vicaria (Laya DeLeon Hayes), we’re given the understanding that this film is not your typical Frankenstein-esque story in which a mad scientist wishes to defeat death simply because. It means more than that. Much more. A modern re-telling of Mary Shelley’s "Frankenstein" set in a mostly Black neighborhood ravaged by gun violence and drugs, we meet Vicaria, a brilliant teenager who has recently lost her brother, Chris (Edem Atsu-Swanzy) to both. Sick of the death which has been brought to her community and others like it by institutionalized racism, she sets out to bring her brother back to life. But when she succeeds, Vicaria isn’t prepared for the new harbinger of death which she has unleashed. Perhaps I’m over-exaggerating here, but between The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster and other films inspired by Shelley’s masterpiece such as Birth/Rebirth, it seems we’re in a bit of a Frankenstein movie renaissance, and I couldn’t be happier that we’re seeing voices other than cis white males leading the way. What sets The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster apart isn’t the usual sci-fi horror elements (we’ll get to those), but the unique perspective from which this story is told. Vicaria, played with a captivating combination of uneasy madness and vulnerability by Hayes, isn’t some crazed male scientist jealous of a woman’s ability to create life or a Herbert West type who dreams of immortality. No. Vicaria is simply a woman grieving over the loss of her brother, furious that the Black community relives tragedies like his over, and over, and over again, while the rest of the world goes on uncaring. All she wants is for her community to thrive. To live. Hayes is electric in this role, too, bringing forth all of the pain and rage and of course a little madness that go hand in hand with the overwhelming grief it takes to want to beat death. A death that spreads from one person to the next, the way her brother’s passing has led to her father’s drug use. A disease without a cure. Part of that disease is the racism which surrounds Vicaria. The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster packs in themes of police brutality, the destruction of Black neighborhoods and the ways in which a racist educational system buries the accomplishments of Black people. A favorite early scene of mine has Vicaria bashing the likes of Thomas Edison while listing off Black inventors who the history books don’t talk about. On the other side of that is a much more infuriating moment in which a Karen of a teacher has Vicaria escorted out of the class by security for questioning whether or not death is final. Story’s film is a devastating one. It does more than scare you. It infuriates you. The importance of the title is in the way the film comments on the awful stereotype of “the angry black woman” by saying no, that’s not right, but also, women like Vicaria have plenty of goddam reason to be furious. Needless to say, if you’re expecting a fun, mindless Frankenstein story, this isn't that. In fact, the Frankenstein’s Monster angle takes less of a hold over the story than you might expect, which is part of the problem with The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster. There’s originality in a take which presents the mad scientist in loving their creation rather than wanting to abandon it, yet despite that, Vicaria still does this early on anyway. This ends up working against the film because we see so little of Chris as a character, so few interactions between he and his sister, that the emotional bond which connects them feels looser than a bolt in the neck. Chris becomes more or less forgotten at times as Vicaria deals with a vendetta against drug dealer, Kango (Denzel Whitaker) while Chris is off doing…whatever. On that same token, Story introduces one-too-many threads that don’t quite stitch together neatly, from the “Monster’s” fight with police to Kango to Vicaria’s own internal struggles. Also underwhelming is when The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster suddenly switches the narrative back to your basic monster movie. The kills are gruesome and the gore is downright horrific, but there’s too little of it to satisfy those wanting your average creature feature, while also not doing enough to maintain the momentum for those craving more than that. In the end, Story’s film is a body bag of mixed parts, most fresh, some, not so much. Despite its scars, though, The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster is a strong debut from Story that electrifies. I wouldn’t blame anyone for passing on such a potentially triggering film for them, but those willing to give it a shot will discover a powerful tale bolstering poignant commentary on what really makes a monster, and who the real monsters are. The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster comes to theaters June 9th, followed by a VOD/Digital release on June 23rd from RLJE Films. By Matt Konopka
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