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.