#samwaymon

Discovering a new director can often lead to awareness of a wealth of content.  While recently diving into Bill Gunn, the diversity of his work really stood out to me, and the one piece that specifically caught my attention was his self-described ‘meta soap opera’, the sprawling and heavily dramatic Personal Problems.

Johnnie Mae Brown (Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor) is a nurse living in Harlem who is in the depths of an unhappy relationship with her husband Charles Brown (Walter Cotton).  After long, stressful days, she comes home to an unhappy Charles, a small apartment, and an unwanted houseguest in the form of Father Brown (Jim Wright), her hard luck stepfather.  Her problems multiply when her stepbrother Bubba (Thommie Blackwell) and his wife Mary Alice (Andrea W. Hunt) migrate to New York from California to escape and repair their own troubled past.  With Charles being openly unfaithful to her, Johnnie Mae seeks out her own side romance in the form of Raymon (Sam Waymon), a local musician, but like most things in her life, she finds herself unsatisfied and unfulfilled.  Just as Johnnie Mae is reaching her breaking point, Father Brown dies, which brings Charles’ family into the mix to confront Johnnie Mae and force her to face her reality.

The format of this film is very forward-thinking... even though An American Family and Scenes from a Marriage were both already in existence (and both released coincidentally in 1973), the “reality-based” storytelling device was still not a common one used in mass media outside of news or documentaries.  The use of this format allowed the characters, specifically the character of Johnnie Mae Brown, to provide additional insight and context to the events of the film without the need for clunky exposition dumps to set up the interpersonal conflicts, which in turn allows the actors to reach their desired emotional levels more directly and in a more believable fashion.  Specifically, the interviews provide subtext that would be impossible to get without the aforementioned exposition dumps, like the recollections of Johnnie Mae’s mother working as a housecleaner only to come home and vent her frustrations about having to clean more house, and how this is later mirrored in Johnnie Mae’s frustrations with her encumbering houseguests.  In turn, the moments between Johnnie Mae and Raymon are given room to develop their own arc, rather than serving a secondary function for Johnnie Mae to voice said subtext.

With the use of this reality-driven format, the experimentation comes into play during the middle act of the film, where we are given a presentation of previously witnessed events as if they occur over a matter of weekdays.  This breaking of the linear narrative not only drives home how mundane life has gotten for all parties involved in the echoing montage, but the reoccurrence of singular identical issues and conflicts drives home Johnnie Mae’s frustration and pain in the face of these expected issues and conflicts.  Act three further breaks the format by adding the dramatic catalyst of Father Brown’s death, which brings out the most extreme versions of all characters involved as they face an inquisition from those attending Father Brown’s funeral.  The tension reaches breaking points all around, which is a needed breakdown in order for all parties involved to build back up their fractured relationships.  It is this blurring of the lines of reality in tandem with the extremely relatable drama that brings out the soap opera aspects of the project.

Video used in a motion picture format is definitely jarring at first, as motion blur and RGB split tend to be present, but at a certain point either the technology improved or my eyes got used to it, because the images improved.  The freedom that video provided the cinematography allows more variety in the setups, which I am sure allowed the actors to stay at the volatile and energetic levels they present on the screen.  It is quite impressive that the film was able to be cut together like a traditional film, as most use of video tends to result in limited coverage or cutting corners... this high quality of editing in contrast with the lower quality of video creates an uncanny valley experience in terms of how the viewer takes in the information presented, which almost forces them to hang on to the emotion and drama doled out by the actors.  Casting Sam Waymon was a benefit in terms of soundtracking, as he is able to provide palatable in-world music to contrast the traditional scoring of Carman Moore.

Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor channels frustration, tenderness, aspirations, confusion and fierceness, among other emotions, into a highly tuned and laser-focused performance of a woman on the edge of lashing back out at the aspects of life that cause her pain.  Walter Cotton plays as withdrawn and scorned as a compliment to Smart-Grosvenor’s performance, playing down when around her and allowing his brightness to shine among others to a highly effective degree.  Sam Waymon is captivating in his talent and charisma, but eventually exudes equal detachment to that of Cotton, albeit it in a much more social manner, but with the lack of attention to Smart-Grosvenor translating all the same.  Jim Wright attempts to bring a bit of levity and ‘salt of the Earth’ quality to the mix, while wonderfully twisting Smart-Grosvenor’s nerve.  Thommie Blackwell and Andrea W. Hunt also bring comic energy into the mix, though Hunt does begin to evolve prior to their swift removal from the story.  Supporting roles are filled in by Ishmael Reed (who developed the concept and initially wrote the film), Kip Hanrahan, Michele Wallace, Mizan Nunes, Alan Beckles, Margo Williams and many more.

I’m not sure how it got by me when Spike Lee released Da Sweet Blood of Jesus, but I was somehow unaware of the fact that the film was a remake of the Bill Gunn underground classic Ganja & Hess, which I’d heard of but had not had the pleasure of seeing.  With Black History Month approaching, and a plan in place to use my timeline to voice examples of unjust killings, I decided to use the DOOMonFILM - FIlm Discussion Group as a platform to celebrate Black creatives.  On the same day that I shared an article about Bill Gunn to the page, the I Saw What You Did podcast covered him as well, and I took that as a sign to finally dive into his catalog, with Ganja & Hess being the obvious entry point.

Dr. Hess Green (Duane Jones) is the personal doctor for George Meda (Bill Gunn), a man with a vampiric addiction to human blood that must be satisfied in order for him to survive.  After contemplating a failed suicide, George Meda decides to attack Hess in his sleep, stabbing him with a ceremonial dagger that passes the vampirism forward to Hess before finally succeeding in killing himself.  For a brief time, Hess attempts to feed on the blood he is able to find and obtain from victims without drawing attention to himself, but one day, Ganja Meda (Marlene Clark), the estranged wife of George, returns home.  Ganja and Hess quickly form a romantic bond, and eventually Ganja discovers George’s body, but rather than be fearful, her relationship with Hess deepens, and the two are eventually married.  For a time, they share their exploits, but eventually the pair is forced to make tough personal decisions that directly impact their relationship.

For a vampire film made in the heart of the exploitation (and blaxploitation era), Ganja & Hess is surprisingly high-brow, intellectual and poetic in its approach.  Rather than linger on scenes of vampires creeping in the shadows, glamourizing themselves and hammering home their bloodlust to the point of being ridiculous, the film treats its vampiric characters as sympathetic victims, similar to someone with a drug addiction that fuels their actions and desires.  To that end, when Hess becomes the new victim, we are forced to share in his torture and despair, rather than find entertainment in his potential adventures and folly.  When served up Ganja on a silver platter, he would rather retreat in shame to curb his addiction to blood rather than use her as a source of food, even when Ganja chooses to display the less favorable aspects of her character.  Ganja & Hess also takes a brief stint to focus on Black identity, among all of the other topics it handles, with the same amount of grace and subtle touch as said topics... Ganja’s reflections on Black womanhood and child-raising particularly stand out as a powerful moment.

The way that Bill Gunn mixes the ideas of faith and fear are poignant to say the least, and the inclusion of both the church and religious art provides an interesting source of emotional subtext for the film.  This point is driven further home with the inclusion of different African visions and music that fade in and out of the film’s “consciousness”.  Even the George Meda character (played by Gunn) speaks of his failed suicide attempt as “the murderer releasing the victim”, as if to inform us that his soul is a prisoner in the body of a vampire.  Ganja & Hess is also presented as a love story more so than a horror film, which is interesting in of itself as the romance spawns from the dark recesses of George Meda and Dr. Hess Green’s conflict, as well as George and Ganja’s fractured relationship.  Once the sparks begin to fly between our titular characters, the moments of love are given the same attention and presentation as the moments of fear, making the relationship portions and the vampiric portions feel like parallel films rather than an intertwined narrative, and further driving home Dr. Hess’s hold on humanity in the face of his tortured existence, with the only true connecting thread being Ganja’s acceptance of Hess’s condition (and the way she aides him in his survival)... it is this singular connecting thread, however, that eventually pulls the two stories together into a shared journey.

The film soundtrack oscillates between deep soul, Christian-based music and songs that emulate spirituals to great effect, pulling us down into the murky depths of our main characters with each new music cue.  Portraying all of the characters in the film as educated Black men, women and children rather than disadvantaged and impoverished potential victims is a breath of fresh air, and Hess is given the chance to display his humanity even in the wake of his tragedy.  The editing and pacing of the film have a “slice of life” feel that is unique to the “genre” (if you want to label the film as a traditional “horror” or “vampire” film in the first place), which in turn, brings a sort of narrative expansion to the idea of the vampire that seems to have been in itself expanded upon, especially in the modern era of the vampire-loving movie-going public.  The sex scenes and moments of sensuality are handled in possibly the most tasteful, artistic manner I have seen scenes of that nature ever handled.  The cinematography implements a voyeuristic, fly on the wall approach, as flash and flare would distract from the methodical, grounded approach taken by Gunn (although artistic insert shots are occasionally sprinkled throughout).

Duane Jones carries himself in a very dignified manner, partly as if to portray the stereotypical associations that come with a vampire, but also seemingly as a ploy to keep his humanity (and his lofty position as a doctor) front and center, rather than be defined by his tragedy.  Marlene Clark could easily have stepped in as the femme fatale, but she instead opts for a more grounded, well-rounded characterization, warts and all, which humanizes her amongst a world filled with chameleon-like “monsters”.  Bill Gunn is the closest thing to a traditional vampire presentation, letting a charismatic intellectual vibe fuel his brief stint in the film.  Supporting roles by Candece Tarpley, Leonard Jackson, Sam Waymon, Richard Harrow, John Hoffmeister, Betty Barney and Mabel King round out the cast.