Red Pill

I found this work to be an astute and entertaining comment on this moment -- both in terms of film and the nation state Clocking under two hours, it manages to tell a number of stories at a brisk pace.

While the horror genre lends itself to one anticipating outcomes, I was still surprised by the film's ending, as well as the endings of the characters -- many of whom I had grown to care for.

Admittedly, some images and circumstances echo other films in the genre, but Pinkin's story is puts those images and circumstance in service of greater questions about nation, race, and belonging. By the final, terrifying montage, I found myself reflecting on all that I had just seen.

Powerful and provocative, Red Pill by Tony Award winner Tonya Pinkins, is a gripping sociopolitical horror flick that found me sitting at the edge of my seat, crying and laughing at the same time, and then watching it again, immediately after the credits rolled. Rich with metaphor, satire, and the merging of history with contemporary issues, Red Pill breaks the mold of horror filmmaking. The multicultural cast of award-winning actors delivers nuanced and scintillating performances. Codified with sociocultural and political references, and teeming with symbolic imagery, Red Pill is a poetic feast. A brilliant and iconic work of art, Red Pill evokes conversation on issues critical to American history. Cutting edge and courageous filmmaking. Fantastical. Intellectual. Sophisticated. Surreal and yet so real.

I can't figure out what this film was intended to be. As social parody or identity politics allegory, it's as subtle as a jackhammer busting up concrete. As an entry in the horror genre, it doesn't really engage the viewer. I found it hard to identify with most of the victims given their personalities, although the cast did a good job with the roles they were given. Finally, insertion of old Nazi film clips just seems gratuitous. As a coda, I watched it the day after Trump announced he could "seek a third term", despite Constitutional restrictions. In that context, the film is pretty unsettling, but standing on its own, it could use some clarity in plot and setting.

I'm not a fan of horror films; there's enough horror in the world and this genre causes me so much anxiety. I watched Red Pill because I am such a Pinkins fan. It stunned me that this film was something of a cross between a great art house film and a scary but rivating commentary on the extremes of racism in America. What I found most interesting were the stretches of dialog that addressed so many realities of that racism. I have to applaud, as well, the reversal of roles, turning the white guy into the icky, misogynistic product of white supremacy. Nothing could be clearer on the whole history of this country than this film. And, yes, it was scary af! This is what a film by a Black writer/director can be when there are no whites to put their I-know-better-than-you-how-to-tell-your-story spin on it. Please, let us see more films by Black writers, directors, and producers.

There aren't dead spaces in this film. The viewer is either scared or anticipating feeling scared. The film begins with the illusion of comfort. We see aerial shots of a beautiful Virginia countryside in the fall season. The comfort turns to discomfort as we face death, desperation, and confusion with the characters. I don't want to tell you the story. I want to tell you the significance of this film. I understand that fans of Jordan Peele's "Get Out" will venture to see this film. But keep in mind that this is a flick for horror fans but much more. Red Pill brings in contemporary and historical themes including White women and Black women with issues of betrayal, Trumpism, and Black solidarity, while pushing in glimpses of enslavement of Africans. From 1619, there has been red blood in the Virginia soil from enslaved Africans. How fitting that the film connects horror with realistic fiction.