Yes, yes, we all know that Get Out is in some sense about race, but it is at the same time not only a horror movie, but a horror movie that follows the formal conventions of a particular kind of horror film. I am not sure exactly what to call this sub-genre, perhaps "the outsider and the community with a secret," or "betrayal horror." The best examples of this genre, examples the writer and director Jordan Peele knows well, are films like The Stepford Wives and Rosemary's Baby. To perhaps take it seriously as both a movie about race and a movie steeped in its genre is to examine the way in which the latter shapes the former. In other words, to take it seriously as an examination of the nightmare of race is to examine the way in which the genre does a kind of dream work, shaping and transforming its primary trauma. (One could even use such a method to examine the various "horror of racism" novels that have appeared in the last year, such as The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor Lavalle and Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff, both of which take Lovecraft and thus a different sub-genre of horror as their point of entry).
Monday, February 27, 2017
Thursday, February 09, 2017
An afternoon reading in San Francisco
If it is possible to learn one thing from the various invocations of the "white working class" that were summoned after the election of Trump, the more the term is invoked, the less one actually knows about work, class, and race. The "white working class" exists as a kind of hobgoblin of bourgeois conscience, as a creature both hated and pitied, the racist who cannot being one. It appears in a few soundbites and pull quotes gathered by journalists and a few stock photos of construction and factories. Against this spectacle of the working class, a hardhat and a few stereotypes about attitudes, there stands the tradition of workers' inquiry, the examination of the conditions, perspectives, trials and tribulations of the working class.