Editorials
‘Ganja & Hess’ Blaxsploitation, sexuality, and women’s empowerment in the Black community

Ganja & Hess is a 1973 Blaxploitation horror film with an indelible legacy in Black American cinema. The film was one of the more cerebral Blaxploitation films to debut during that time, and its distribution history only adds to its cult status and mystique. The plot meanders around themes of race, addiction, religion, and female empowerment, with African vampire lore serving as the backdrop. This beautiful indie film has become a cult classic among Black film lovers, and the film’s experimental nature is bolstered by brilliant performances from Marlene Clark and Duane Jones.
Writer and director William Gunn was also a novelist and playwright, which makes Ganja & Hess a vampire film unlike any other. At times the film does feel more like a stage play than your typical horror film. The themes presented in Ganja & Hess are well-trodden territory, especially in the Blaxploitation genre. But most Blaxploitation films were financed by and honestly made for white audiences as a way to confirm biases about Black culture.
While Black people enjoyed seeing themselves on screen, Black filmmakers of that era lamented how Blaxploitation films created more Black stereotypes and caricatures. Gunn attempted—and ultimately succeeded—to create a Black film devoid of harmful Black stereotypes. Gunn wanted to bring more nuance to Black characters and show the richness and complexity of Black life, which is why there is so much opulence and decadence in Ganja & Hess. Gunn’s departure from Black caricatures is also evident in Hess (Duane Jones), who is the antithesis to other Blaxploitation archetypes seen at that time. You may know Duane Jones as Ben in another genre-defining film Night of the Living Dead. Jones’s performance as Hess should honestly be held in the same regard as his performance in Living Dead, as he brings the same charisma and intensity to the titular character Dr. Hess Green, a wealthy and educated archaeologist living on a lavish estate.
Hess and his assistant George Meda (William Gunn) are studying an ancient African nation that drank blood. George and Hess are interesting foils to each other when we dissect their Blackness through the lens of class and assimilation. George is an impolite, nervous, and unstable man, while Hess’ mannerisms signify his wealth, education, and conformity to polite (white) society. George seems unwelcome and out of place in Hess’ tastefully decorated mansion. George’s crudeness, profanity, and inability to play his part as assistant/the help make Hess uncomfortable. When George attempts suicide on Hess’s property, Hess urges him to consider how it would affect him as “the only colored on the block.” Hess is hyper-aware that his Blackness puts him at odds with his white neighbors. His wealth and education cannot protect him, and he understands that being Black puts him in a precarious situation.
Later that night, George attacks Hess with an African dagger and then commits suicide. Hess survives the attack and then drinks George’s blood. This is where we begin to see Hess lose control. Vampirism in this film is presented as an allegory to addiction. Hess seems to be at odds with his newfound vampirism. The usually respectable and put-together man begins to behave erratically. Hess starts stealing blood from the hospital, only to discover that he needs to drink from the living in order to survive. Jones gives an emotional performance, and we can feel how painful this affliction feels for Hess. He struggles with his addiction and need for live victims, but he ultimately succumbs to his bloodlust. In one chilling scene, we see Hess at his most sinister as he watches TV and gets dressed in a room with a sex worker’s lifeless body on the bed and her child crying in the crib beside her.
Soon, George’s estranged wife Ganja comes looking for him. Gunn’s multifaceted female character can be seen as one of the many blueprints for Enduring Women characters developed during the height of the Blaxploitation era. Horror Scholar Robin R. Means Coleman defines Enduring Women as a variation of the Final Girl that must continue to endure societal horrors even after they defeat the monster. Final Girls are usually white, tend not to be overtly sexualized, and can live in peace after they have overcome the evil they faced. Black women do not have that luxury—on or off-screen. Because Black women are hypersexualized and will likely face misogynoir, police brutality, poverty, and high rates of maternal morbidity even after defeating otherworldly horrors, they are Enduring Women.
And Ganja endures a lot to make it to the end. Marlene Clark is effortlessly stunning, cool, and collected as Ganja, and she and Hess are attracted to each other immediately. Jones and Clark’s chemistry is hot, and embers of lust start to simmer the first time they share the screen. Their chemistry is so electric that, like Ganja, you begin to think, “George who?”
The better question of “where is George?” is soon answered when Ganja finds his corpse in the wine cellar. Ganja is outraged but recognizes she is probably better off with Hess and his wealth. The two wed quickly, and Ganja agrees to be turned into a vampire. Ganja’s transformation into a vampire is a confusing and uncomfortable experience. Hess tries to teach his new disciple how to survive and presents her with a lover to also feed on. Ganja endures all of this for the promise of a better life than she had with George, but she is still devastated when her lover passes and soon becomes harder to control.
Hess is overcome with grief and guilt over the monstrosities he has to inflict on other people in order to survive. He begins searching for a cure for his addiction. The church is an integral part of Black life, and like Hess, many Black people find comfort, guidance, and salvation within. After Hess visits with Reverend Luther Williams (Sam Waymon), he understands that he must accept Jesus as his savior and atone for his sins. In a beautifully eerie scene, we see Hess die in front of a giant cross, and it is unclear if he is writhing from the pain of hellfire or experiencing pleasurable relief from his guilt.
Though Hess tries to convince Ganja to face God’s judgment with him, she ultimately decides to live on as a vampire. She also chooses to dispose of Hess’s meddling butler and take full ownership of Hess’s sprawling mansion. Vampirism is not an affliction for Ganja—it is now a source of her power.
Unlike white, virginal, and do-gooder Final Girls, Enduring Women are flawed and sexually empowered to survive against all odds and may even find comfort in becoming the monster. In the film’s final scenes, we see her previously dead lover rise from the water naked and run toward her. Ganja looks directly into the camera with a coy smile, obviously pleased with her decision to live in comfort without either of her husbands. Ganja is an Enduring Woman not only because she endured the deaths of her husbands and a disorienting vampire transformation, but because she decided to live her life on her own terms and rid herself of the men that ultimately stood in her way.
Ganja & Hess’s more artistic take on vampires led to disappointing box office numbers for the producers. Although it was critically acclaimed and screened at the Critics’ Week at Cannes Film Festival, the producers withdrew the film from distribution and sold it to another company. It was then retitled Blood Couple, hoping to capitalize on a more straightforward Blaxploitation film. The producers wanted a “Black” version of white vampire films and did not appreciate the avant-garde masterpiece that is Ganja & Hess.
The original cut of Ganja & Hess—and the only version the filmmaker William Gunn acknowledged—was donated to the Museum of Modern Art, which cemented its status as a cult classic. This experimental vampire film seamlessly blends all of the elements that we expect from vampire lore—lust, power, fighting inner demons—and uses them to shape enigmatic yet alluring Black characters during an era in American cinema that produced far too many Black caricatures for white audiences. Ganja & Hess was truly ahead of its time and should not be overlooked.
Editorials
‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’: And the Impact of Slasher Sequel Trends

Legacy sequels are not a new invention in the horror genre. The 2020s have seen several horror legacy sequels keeping the same name as their predecessors and retconning the canon to revitalize the franchise for a new generation of movie-goers. We have seen this with the Halloween, Scream, Candyman, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchises. All of which kept the movie title of the original installment (minus the 2022 TCM movie, which dropped “The” and made “chainsaw” one word again) and removed nearly all installments after the first from the canon (minus Scream 2022, which is a continuation of Scream 4).
Slasher fanatics are getting a new legacy sequel with the fourth installment of I Know What You Did Last Summer (IKWYDLS) hitting theaters this July. So far, we know that there will be legacy cast members returning, and it is expected to be a direct sequel to I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, according to Variety. Based on its horror franchise cohorts, here are my predictions for the new IKWYDLS movie.
Spoilers ahead for Halloween (2018), Candyman (2021), Scream (2022), and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2022).
Legacy Cast Turned Harbingers
Legacy cast members are not being hunted down yet again, but they now offer knowledge and a warning to the new class of fresh meat. The previous survivors and final girls now evolve to a different horror movie trope: the harbingers.
We see this in a few movies. Laurie Strode warns her family in Halloween 2018. Dewey accurately predicts the killer to be Amber and Richie in Scream 2022. Anne-Marie discourages her son, Anthony, from uttering the word “Candyman” and reveals that the hooked-handed legend is the real danger in Nia DaCosta’s Candyman (2021).
The first trailer for the new IKWYDLS shows Ray urging officials in a town hall to take the events seriously. In the second trailer, Julie shares her final girl advice not to be a passive victim and identify possible motives to narrow down who the new deadly fisherman is. I am looking forward to seeing a seasoned Freddie Prinze Jr and Jennifer Love Hewitt reprise their roles and hopefully be engaging harbingers.
Previous Final Girl Becomes The Real Danger
In their role as a harbinger, the legacy final girl is back for blood. This is extensively shown in Halloween 2018 as Laurie Strode is now a firearms specialist and has designed her home to be a trap for Michael Myers. The sequence of her hunting for Michael in her house in the third act is unforgettable and bad ass. Sidney Prescott (and Gale Weathers) spoil Ghostface’s plan in Scream 2022 simply by showing up to the murder party.
Yes, Ghostface did want Sidney there, but they were very unprepared for how tactical she would be and not take the bait on tricks that a new slasher survivor would. Sidney was fine with shooting first and asking questions later!
Sally Hardesty (played by Owlen Fouere) makes her first return to the TCM franchise in the Netflix 2022 Texas Chainsaw Massacre legacy sequel. She has been trying to track down Leatherface and his family for decades, and finally gets her chance for revenge. An interesting take on what she has been up to for the past nearly 50 years.
Julie and Ray could be the power couple that the new survivors need. After all, they did evade and clumsily defeat Ben Willis in the 1997 movie. They made up for the clumsy execution with a more impressive effort in I Still Know What You Did Last Summer by Ray traveling to an island to fist fight the father-son duo while Julie unloaded a revolver into Ben Willis.
Both demonstrating they have learned from their first encounter with a murder and not taking second chances. I do not expect them to play the wait-and-see approach in the new movie.
The Legacy Death
What keeps horror hounds coming back to slasher franchises are the kills. Fans of slasher flicks want to see their beloved Michael Myers or Leatherface hack away at the youths who break horror movie rules. However, the shock and surprise come from meaningful deaths, and this does lead to fan favorites getting the axe (or chainsaw).
Dewey loses his plot armor in Scream 2022 as Ghostface recognizes, in a meta way, the importance of his death by saying “It’s an honor” as his corpse hits the floor. Sally finally finds her prey, only to receive a chainsaw in the abdomen and to be yeeted into a pile of garbage (I’m still salty about this). In Candyman, while he may not be considered part of the “legacy cast”, Anthony McCoy is still an important returning character. He meets his demise after William Burke saws off his hand, and the Chicago police later slay Anthony in a poignant scene. These deaths make the audience feel the gravity of the situation and fear what is now possible for the new cast.
I Still Know What You Did Last Summer left us with three possible legacy characters returning: Julie, Ray, and Karla (played by Brandy). Trailers have not revealed a Brandy cameo, but it is not out of the question for her to return as the sacrificial legacy death. I personally believe there is a bigger chance for Ray to meet his end, similar to Dewey. While all filmmakers hope for audiences to fall in love with their new characters, any financial success will likely warrant a sequel that will need to feature Jennifer Love Hewitt to keep the slasher fans excited. Fingers crossed that Julie makes it out of her third run-in with the vengeful fisherman.
I Know What You Did Last Summer hits theaters July 18, and I’ll eagerly be seated to see what trends this new addition has to offer to the slasher legacy sequel canon.
Editorials
Finding Unexpected Empowerment in “Poor Things”

A young person, raised by a scientist and seemingly simple minded by design, discovers their inner hedonist. In their quest for pleasure, they leave their home and embark on misadventures involving sex, sugar, an abusive relationship, and various enlightenments, all before returning home to confront their past so that they may move towards their future. This is the streamlined arc for both Poor Things protagonist Bella Baxter and myself. When I saw Poor Things in theaters in January 2024, the only things I knew about the film were that Yorgos Lanthimos directed it and that the cast included Emma Stone, Ramy Youssef, and Willem Dafoe.
You can imagine my surprise when I not only felt the impact of Bella’s arc, but also felt seen and even empowered in a way that I rarely do as a queer disabled man.
Discovering Bella Baxter in Poor Things
Bella, an adult woman who exhibits childlike behavior, is under the care of scientist Godwin Baxter, who has taken on the role of her father figure. Conversations with his student Max reveals that Bella’s body is the resurrected corpse of a woman that Godwin discovered, while her brain had originally belonged to the child the woman had been pregnant with. It’s important to note that Godwin didn’t know the circumstances of the woman’s death before he pulled off this macabre miracle. More on that later.
Bella eventually has her first sexual experience through masturbation, is instantly hooked on the gratification she feels, and tries to achieve constant satisfaction proclaiming “Bella discover happy when she want.”. Those around her, such as Max and Godwin’s maid Prim, are less than elated about Bella’s newfound desires, but Bella shamelessly persists. Godwin, in response, decides to try to arrange a marriage between Bella and Max, with the condition that the pair live with him for the rest of his days. While Max agrees, Bella ultimately decides to leave their home in London to embark on a whirlwind affair with Godwin’s lawyer, Duncan Wedderburn. Duncan, enticed by the contradicting nature of Bella’s innocence and sexual hedonism, pursues and woos her with promises of worldliness and sex.
Subverting Disability Stereotypes
One of the most common stereotypes in media around disabled people is the belief that their disabilities render them either asexual or unable to obtain any type of sexual gratification at all. When one reads Bella as disabled-coded, as I do, she becomes one of the strongest subversions of the “disabled equals asexual” trope seen in recent, mainstream film history. A disabled-coded reading also makes Bella’s hypersexuality much less problematic than it would be if the character was only analyzed at a surface level. The juxtaposition of disability and hypersexuality is an aspect of Bella’s character that I greatly identify with.
In early childhood, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and as an adult, I also tend to chase this type of gratification for the sake of leisurely pleasure or even as a way to cope with stress. With Duncan, Bella travels first to Lisbon, Portugal, where the two spend their time together having sex and eating exotic foods and sweets. Bella’s constant craving for more pleasure proves to be too much for Duncan, who grows to resent her as he is unable to keep up.
His resentment is compounded by Bella’s social ineptitude, as she repeatedly embarrasses him with several faux pas during a dinner party at their hotel. For example, after taking an extra moment to understand her female dinner mate’s sex joke, Bella makes a comment about the taste of Duncan’s penis. When Duncan reprimands her and restricts her to a few choice phrases, she describes the death of her dining companion’s relative as “delightful”; she later interrupts the dinner banter because she wants to “punch [a] baby” that’s annoying her.
Bella’s Misadventures with Duncan Wedderburn
Bella’s unfiltered comments and inappropriate responses are painfully reminiscent of my own past social failings, from remarks about my former partner’s genitals, to intrusive questions about the suicide of a classmate’s uncle, and finally to vocalized violent inclinations towards small, annoying children. Thankfully, like Bella, I was stopped before any harm could come to the younglings.
Despite their growing tensions, Bella and Duncan stay together, even as Bella goes on to binge alcohol and have sexual encounters with other men. Duncan eventually lures her out of Lisbon with a cruise to Athens, Greece. Bella is quite displeased with this change until she befriends two fellow patrons, Martha and Harry, who open her eyes to pursuits beyond her hedonism, and introduce her to philosophy and literature, irking Duncan.
Bella’s Intellectual and Emotional Growth in Poor Things
Bella embraces the intellectual stimulation presented to her, leading to a debate with Harry over humanity’s potential for cruelty in which Bella argues that humankind is not inherently cruel. Harry retaliates when the cruise docks by showing her the conditions that poor people must endure. Bella gives her and Duncan’s money to members of the ship’s crew with the (ultimately ignored) instruction to distribute it to the poor. The rash decision results in Bella and Duncan being left to fend for themselves in Paris. Bella, to Duncan’s outrage, finds work in a local brothel, a job that she views as merely a means to an end. She ends their relationship and gives him money to return to London. Bella continues life as a sex worker, taking on many lovers in the process, including a fellow sex worker named Antoinette.
The trajectory of Bella and Duncan’s relationship evokes a situationship I had years ago with an older man that would prove to be formative. Like Duncan, he presented himself as a mature man of many sexual interests that he would help me dip my toes into. And, like Duncan, he seemed to be attracted to me only when I was entirely compliant with his whims, and had an issue with me having friends and connections outside of him. I, like Bella, also managed to have a much larger libido than the supposedly adventurous gentleman, which amplified the tension as I was always wanting more. Finally, after ending this affair, I, like Bella, learned an important lesson or two and threw myself into my personal development and goals.
Returning Home and Facing the Past
Bella’s story eventually sees her return to London. She learns the truth about her origins and reconciles with Godwin, whose health is failing. She also meets Felicity—a “new Bella” that Godwin and Max created. This is a subplot that deeply resonates with me, specifically Godwin and Max’s treatment of Felicity in comparison to their treatment of Bella. Godwin doted on Bella and Max fell for her, whereas the pair grew frustrated with Felicity and essentially abandoned her to be cared for solely by Prim. It’s easy to view Bella and Felicity as higher and lower-functioning disabled people, with Bella as the preferable one because she can mask her symptoms better than Felicity can.
Several times, I have been in Bella’s position of being a preferable disabled person to interact with compared to others because of my higher functioning and less obvious presentation. I’ve even experienced this dynamic in my childhood with my sister having ADD and ADHD, which was deemed more draining for our parents compared to my own diagnosis. It’s been a journey to overcome the internalized ableism that these experiences created, but it’s one that I’m glad I’ve embarked on. Among other things, it makes Bella rightfully directing the disdain she has for Felicity towards Godwin and Max so much more satisfying, even if she does offer both men forgiveness.
Uncovering Bella’s Tragic Origins
In London, Bella learns that her body, pre-reanimation, had belonged to a sadistic woman named Victoria Blessington, who, along with her husband Alfie, abused their servants. Alfie informs Bella that Victoria died by suicide, likely due to her hatred of her unborn child, which she referred to as “the monster.” Alfie plots to imprison Bella and subject her to female genital mutilation. Bella ultimately escapes and takes Alfie back to Godwin’s home, where she performs her own surgery—one in which she replaces Alfie’s brain with a goat’s.
Although Godwin dies shortly after Bella’s return, Bella remains ever the optimist and becomes a scientist, following in Godwin’s footsteps. She builds a life with her chosen family, including Max and Antoinette as her partners, Felicity as her surrogate sister, and Prim and Alfie as her servant and pet, respectively. The film’s ending is not the traditional “Good For Her (™)” conclusion we tend to see, but rather a “Good For Bella” ending that empowers her, as a person, uniquely.
Bella Baxter’s Queer and Polyamorous Awakening
The conclusion of Poor Things brings home my feelings of kinship with Bella in two ways. The first being her completed arc from the cruel and hateful Victoria to the joyful and sincere Bella. When I was younger, I was definitely more Victoria than Bella; my younger self was a bully who enjoyed using my sharp tongue to bring others down as hard as I could. It was a lot of work to become a better person, one that I struggle to maintain from time to time. Like Bella, I have found kindness to be more rewarding than cruelty and wish to believe in the inherent joy in humanity.
The other way this conclusion resonates with me is through our—Bella’s and my own— late queer awakenings. For over half of the film, we have no indication that Bella is queer besides the likely unintentional hint of Bella rejecting Godwin and Max’s heteronormative ideals of marriage. We don’t see anything concrete until the montage of her sexual escapades in Paris, concluding with her and Antoinette having sex. It awakens Bella’s queerness in her adulthood to the point where she ends up in a throuple with Antoinette and Max, revealing that Bella is both queer and polyamorous. Similarly, I did not have my queer awakening until I was twenty, and I had my awakening as polyamorous only last year. Bella is a fictional character, but it is comforting to know that it is possible for others to have those awakenings occur later in life.
Embracing My Disabled and Queer Identity
When I look back at Poor Things, I see it as a messy and polarizing film by design. The questions of whether we should be offended, intrigued, or feel something else entirely regarding the plot of a woman being reanimated with her baby’s brain in place of her own and eventually embarking on a quest of hedonism are valid ones that do warrant discourse. I don’t resent those who are outraged by the film and detest the film’s critical success.
However, I can’t find myself outraged, especially when the film’s protagonist’s experiences mirror my own, with Bella becoming a comfort character to me as a result. In the time since my initial viewing of Poor Things, I have found so much more pride in being disabled and queer that I keep surprising myself. I used to be embarrassed to discuss my disability in any detail, because I feared that I would be treated differently or viewed as merely trying to excuse my own faults with my neurodivergence.
On the contrary, those who care about me now understand me better, and I have a film that I can point to for them to have a glimpse into my lived experience. I’ve even become more proud of my queerness to the point of going to my first Pride celebration last summer, as well as having an awakening in regards to my polyamory. I cannot begrudge a film like Poor Things for its messiness when it has empowered me so much in the way that it ultimately empowers its protagonist.