Ganja & Hess

There was a time when film was slower. Shots were longer and cuts were considered an interruption. Ganja and Hess is of this era. Before you say anything, realize that image means a lot in cinema. Just the amazing imagery and in-depth account of black life without the white gaze make this an important film. The rich world of Dr. Hess unfolds with African connections, the church, and the street all make for a pioneering film with complete disdain for established norms. As a student of black cinema this along with Bush Mama and Killer of Sheep are simply must sees. For the second wave see Daughters of the dust, Dead presidents and Sankofa. While it is no night of the living dead it is an import stop in the history of the horror genre.

To be perfectly honest, the first time I watched Bill Gunn's 1973 art-house horror movie, "Ganja and Hess," it left me quite cold and even managed to put me to sleep. I felt that the film was unbearably slow moving, featured unsympathetic characters, suffered from lackadaisical direction and mumbled line readings, contained numerous scenes that petered out listlessly and meaninglessly, and concluded with an excruciatingly protracted gospel finale. During a repeat viewing, however, to ascertain whether this film, which I'd loooong wanted to see, was really that bad--and with not so much lowered as altered expectations--I realized that the picture, despite its previously mentioned faults, does contain many fine qualities. In it, we meet Dr. Hess Green, an anthropologist who is stabbed by his unbalanced assistant with a knife from the fabled land of Myrthia and becomes a blood addict (the "v" word is never mentioned in this film), just as likely to sip his beverage of choice from a cut-glass decanter as to lap it up from a dirty floor. He takes up with the wife of his attacker, a beautiful though obnoxious woman named Ganja Meda, in a very unusual romance indeed. Duane Jones, the hero of 1968's seminal "Night of the Living Dead," is excellent and charismatic here as the bearded Dr. Green, and Marlene Clark does well in her difficult role. The film makes great use of an African chant that weaves through Hess' consciousness when he is, uh, thirsty, and its lethargic pace struck me, on a second viewing, as not so much glacial as dreamlike. This is a picture that almost demands and requires a second look to appreciate all its subtleties and various symbolic allusions. Put aside your expectations of fangs and capes and bats and you may find yourself really getting immersed in Hess Green's nightmare. This picture turns out to be not nearly as anemic as I initially thought!

Many comments on this film from other users implicitly take on a perspective not unlike that of the producers who severly cut the film before its theatrical release because they expected it to be a more conventional blaxploitation horror film. It is neither blaxploitation nor horror, but instead one of the few (only?) examples of an independent African-American art cinema from the early '70s. It may be flawed, but it is also an incredibly ambitious, challenging film. If you are a fan of Shaft, Superfly, et. al., you may not like this one; if you are a fan of Bergman, Bunuel, or Antonioni, you should check it out.

There are others that can talk about the symbolism in this film much better than I can. It was made for Black audiences, and I certainly won't try to describe what director Bill Gunn was trying to say.

This film effectively ended Bill Gunn's short career. He was supposed to make a Blaxploitation film like Blacula. He failed his producers by making an art film, which they chopped up and released under another name. This is the fully restored film with an amazingly beautiful score by Sam Waymon.

If you are looking for horror or blaxploitation, you came to the wrong place. This film was shown at Cannes - the only American entry that year - and received a standing ovation.

Ganja and Hess doesn't surpass any cinematic niveaux or reinvent the art form but it is far above the standard fare afro Americans have had to tolerate as representative cinema. Something about it is just charming enough to recommend it; it is quirky and pensive but paces itself so deliberately it might well be delivered in episodes. It is a historical artifact, you will notice a multitude of 70s markers. The vampirism is not campy, the dialogue while perhaps inexpertly delivered, is not cliché or stereotyped and the cast looks good. It takes patience, nonetheless to watch and more than a little intelligence to decipher its subtexts.