The 15 Best Horror Movies From Black Directors

"We've always loved horror, it's just that horror, unfortunately, hasn't always loved us," author and film historian Tananarive Due says in the opening to Shudder's extensive "Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror." The sweeping deep-dive confronts the truth about Black representation in horror, spanning from the infamous 1915 film "The Birth of a Nation" through cinematic beacons such as "The Night of the Living Dead" to modern fare like Jordan Peele's "Get Out." Based on Dr. Robin R. Means Coleman's 2011 book of the same name, the documentary (directed by Xavier Burgin) is a deeply insightful and engaging document, rendering the Black voice as forever vital to the genre.

"Black history is Black horror," Due has said about the entanglement of the genre and real life. Historically, the needle has swung from overtly-racist depictions ("I Walked with a Zombie") to the very first Black protagonist ("The Night of the Living Dead") and the Blaxploitation era in the 1970s. The pendulum continued to swing, with filmmakers Ernest Dickerson, Rusty Cundieff, and James Bond III making inroads in the '80s and '90s. Decades later, 2017 marked yet another crucial turning point with Jordan Peele's "Get Out," opening the floodgates for countless talented young filmmakers to have their stories and work heard.

Below, we take a look at the 15 best horror films from Black directors, ranging from experimental pieces to more traditional approaches.

With the 1992 original "Candyman" as a jumping-off point, Nia DaCosta reclaims the narrative of the Black experience, as it relates to the gentrification of the projects. Her visionary retelling sees the return of Vanessa Williams as Anne-Marie McCoy, as well as her infant son Anthony, now a grown adult played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. Through a hyper-stylized lens, DaCosta depicts all the "things that are really personal to Black people and should be to all Americans," she said, "but it's really about so much trauma and pain and how we grieve and how we engage with it."

The engagement is found through Anthony's artwork and a newfound obsession with Cabrini Green, the projects on the outskirts of Chicago. Creatively struggling, he goes for a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood to find insight and a fresh creative muse, stumbling into the tragic story of a community completely forgotten and abandoned by institutions claiming to care. His work begins to reflect a painful history, as the urban legend of Candyman represents a history of pain lobbied at the Black community since the dawn of time. "Candyman ain't a he. Candyman's the whole damn hive," Burke (Colman Domingo), the man who runs the local laundromat, tells Anthony. "They're all real. Candyman is how we deal with the fact that these things happened. That they're still happening."

DaCosta's "Candyman" shines a glaring spotlight on cycles of trauma in a way that's thought-provoking and unsettling.

Most anthology films are uneven, at best. Strong installments are offset by stories that don't quite stick the landing with tepid storytelling and lackluster thrills. But Rusty Cundieff's 1995 four-parter "Tales from the Hood" still terrifies with its vampire-like fangs digging into police brutality ("Rogue Cop Revelation"), domestic violence ("Boys Do Get Bruised"), political corruption ("KKK Comeuppance"), and gang violence ("Hard-Core Convert").

The wrap-around story, titled "Welcome to My Mortuary," is a deadly chiller, as well. When three dug dealers arrive at the Simms Funeral Home, their esteemed host Mr. Simms, played by the one and only Clarence Williams III, is more than happy to welcome them in. They want their drugs, and Simms is willing to give it to them 一 but only if they entertain him by listening to four blood-curdling tales. In the end, they too have a lesson to learn about life, death, and what kind of person they were in existence.

J.D. Dillard's 2019 feature "Sweetheart" tests the resilience and physical limits of a young woman named Jennifer Remming, played by Kiersey Clemons. When her boat sinks after a raging thunderstorm, Jennifer washes ashore a secluded island and is forced to scavenge for food and shelter. But the elements are the least of her worries. She soon encounters a deadly humanoid sea monster, and her will to survive meets an ultimate test. When she reunites with boyfriend Lucas (Emory Cohen) and friend Mia (Hanna Mangan Lawrence), they brush off her claims of an underwater creature, which seals their fate.

Jennifer squelches any fears she has by writing about the events in her journal, in the event she fails to conquer the beast. In an epic third act finale, she attracts the monster into a trap of wood and grass and then lights the whole thing on fire. She then comes hand-to-hand with the slimy critter and eventually decapitates it on the sandy shoreline. Clemons exudes sheer strength and nuance in her performance, allowing the audience to really attach to her character. For such a wild premise, "Sweetheart" is nothing if not truly heartfelt.

Kasi Lemmons' directorial debut "Eve's Bayou," released in 1997, is a fascinating picture. Billed as a drama, it weaves in fantasy/horror elements like curses, ghost stories, and voodoo. It's a visually striking and masterful story about one family's deeply troubled past and generational trauma, following a 10-year-old named Eve Baptiste (Jurnee Smollett), who learns the twisted truth about her father (Samuel L. Jackson) and older sister Cicely (Meagan Good).

"People have a way of dying at their own speed," a local mystic named Elzora (Diahann Carroll) tells Eve, who plans to cast a spell to make someone die. The weight of the world bears unbelievably on Eve's shoulders, and it is her naivety that perhaps is her biggest fault. Her decisions have grave consequences, and even with regret seeping into her bones, what is done is done. And there's no taking back her actions. "Eve's Bayou" is as elegant as it is unsettling, as the audience attempts to put the pieces together to find out their own perception of the truth.

A Blaxploitation essential, William Crain's "Dr. Black and Mr. Hyde" retools the 1886 novella "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (by Robert Louis Stevenson) for a powerful story surrounding white aggression on the Black community. Bernie Casey stars as Dr. Henry Pride, who is working on a cure for cirrhosis of the liver. Through many unethical experiments, he creates a serum that transforms whoever is injected into a white monster, akin to Frankenstein's monster. Upon administering a dose to himself, he goes on a rampage, killing sex workers at the local Moonlight Lounge.

"You dress white, and you think white," a sex worker named Linda (Marie O'Henry) says in one of the film's first scenes. This moment, in particular, addresses internalized racism, suggesting that Pride's physical mutation is a literal manifestation of deeply-harbored self-loathing.

"Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde" also references the infamous Tuskegee Syphilis Study, during which hundreds of poor Black workers in Alabama were injected with Syphilis to test development when left untreated. Author Andrew L. Grunzke writes in his 2015 book, "Educational Institutions in Horror Film: A History of Mad Professors," how "horrors of the Tuskegee experiments were a major impetus for the development of modern research ethics. An African American doctor willing to violate those ethical rules created a highly charged situation in the film."

In Emmanuel Osei-Kuffour's "Black Box," an installment of Blumhouse's 2020 "Welcome to the Blumhouse" film series, Mamoudou Athie plays Nolan Wright, a man stricken with severe amnesia. Following a deadly car crash, which took his wife, he attempts to pick up the pieces of his photography career and provide care for his daughter Ava (Amanda Christine). When approached by a medical professional, Dr. Lilian Brooks (Phylicia Rashad), to do an experimental treatment, Norman expresses concerns about its boundary-pushing approach in regards to the subconscious.

Once he signs on, Dr. Lilian attaches a neuron cap to his head, which allows the device to extract and transmit vital memories into a black box. Then, the contraption transforms hidden memories into virtual reality images. In the work, Nolan may be able to recover who he once was and regain his life.

The film initially banks on expectation before yanking the rug out from under you in the third act. "Black Box" is a captivating dissection of the complexities in medical research, as well as what happens afterlife and the possibility of our subconscious living on. It feels very much like a lost "Black Mirror" episode but with far more power and finesse.

"Blacula" is William Crain's crowning achievement. Released in 1972, the Blaxploitation feature stars William Marshall in the title role, as the first ever Black Dracula. The story follows Mamuwalde, who is imprisoned, turned into a vampire, and locked away by none other than Count Dracula. Centuries later, Blacula (the name bestowed upon him) is resurrected when two interior decorators purchase his coffin for their estate. They become the first in a long string of unsuspecting victims.

During his scavenges throughout LA, Blacula meets a young photographer named Tina (Vonetta McGee), and the pair strike up quite a love affair. The film transpires as you might expect it to, yet its importance lies in its historical text, linking early days of white colonization to the ongoing struggles for racial equality. "Blacula" demonstrated that the Dracula figure in literature/film could be sexy, while also delivering an important message about the human condition and collective pain.