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Resounding success of ‘Black Panther’ franchise says little about the dubious state of Black film

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Resounding success of ‘Black Panther’ franchise says little about the dubious state of Black film


When Marvel Studios released “Black Panther” in February 2018, it marked the first Marvel Cinematic Universe film to feature a Black superhero and star a predominantly Black cast.

Its estimated production budget was US$200 million, making it the first Black film – conventionally defined as a film that is directed by a Black director, features a Black cast, and focuses on some aspect of the Black experience – ever to receive that level of financial support.

As a scholar of media and Black popular culture, I was often asked to respond to the resounding success of that first “Black Panther” film, which had shattered expectations of its box office performance.

Would it lead to more big-budget Black films? Was its popularity an indication that the global marketplace – the real source of trepidation about the film’s potential – was finally ready to embrace Black-cast films?

With the release of the massively successfulBlack Panther: Wakanda Forever” in November 2022, I expect those questions to reemerge.

Yet as I review the cinematic landscape between the original and its sequel, I am inclined to restate the answer I gave back in 2018: Assumptions should not be made about the state of Black film based on the success of the “Black Panther” franchise.

Reason for optimism

Prior to its release, the producers of “Black Panther” faced questions about whether there was a market for a Black blockbuster film, even one ensconced in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

After all, since the Wesley Snipes-led “Blade” trilogy, which came out in the late-1990s and early 2000s, Black superhero films had experienced diminishing returns. There was one notable exception: the commercially successful, though heavily panned “Hancock” (2008), starring Will Smith.

Wesley Snipes attends the premiere of ‘Blade 2’ in March 2002.
Vince Bucci/Getty Images

Otherwise, Black superhero films such as “Catwoman” (2004) and “Sleight” (2016) either flopped or had a limited release.

Furthermore, until “Black Panther,” no Black film exceeded a $100 million budget, the average benchmark for modern Hollywood blockbusters.

Nonetheless, despite these early concerns, “Black Panther” earned the highest domestic gross, $700 million, of all films released in 2018, while earning $1.3 billion in worldwide gross, second only to “Avengers: Infinity War.”

“Black Panther” emerged at the tail end of what many industry experts considered to be a surprisingly successful run of Black films, which included the biopic “Hidden Figures” (2016) and the raunchy comedy “Girls Trip” (2017). Despite their modest budgets, they earned over $100 million apiece at the box office – $235 million and $140 million, respectively.

However, both films were mostly reliant on the domestic box office, especially the R-rated “Girls Trip,” which was only released in a handful of foreign markets. Conventional wisdom has long held that Black films will fail abroad. International distributors and studios typically ignore them during the presale process or at film festivals and markets, reasoning that Black films are too culturally specific – not only in terms of their Blackness, but also their Americanness.

Films like “Black Panther” and the Oscar winning “Moonlight” (2016), which earned more on the international market than the domestic market, certainly challenged those assumptions. It has yet to upend them.

Black films after ‘Black Panther’

What do those Black films released in theaters in the nearly five years between “Black Panther” and “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” tell us about the former’s impact?

The simple answer is that the original “Black Panther” has had no discernible influence on industry practices whatsoever.

Since 2018, no other Black blockbuster has emerged, save for the sequel itself. Granted, Black filmmaker Ava DuVernay’s remake of “A Wrinkle in Time” (2018) reportedly cost an estimated $100 million; however, while Black actors portrayed the protagonist and a few other characters, the film features a multicultural ensemble cast – which, as scholars such as Mary Beltran have pointed out, has become the primary strategy for achieving diversity in film.

Even if one were to include “A Wrinkle in Time,” the grand total of Black films with budgets exceeding $100 million is three, with the two “Black Panther” films being the others – all during an era in which there have been hundreds of mainstream films with budgets exceeding $100 million.

Otherwise, most of the Black films released in theaters between 2018 and 2022 typically were low budget by Hollywood standards – $3 million to $20 million in most cases – with only a handful, such as the 2021 Aretha Franklin biopic “Respect,” costing $50 million to 60 million.

Perhaps the most notable change has been the medium. Many Black films now appear on either cable networks that cater to a Black audience – namely Black Entertainment Television and, more recently, Lifetime – or on streaming services such as Netflix. Tyler Perry, the most popular and prolific Black filmmaker of the modern era, has released his latest films – “A Jazzman’s Blues” (2022), “A Madea Homecoming” (2022) and “A Fall from Grace” (2020) – directly to Netflix.

Furthermore, no other Black film has approached the financial success of “Black Panther.” Granted, several Black films have fared well at the box office, especially relative to their production costs. Foremost among them is Jordan Peele’s “Us” (2019), which cost an estimated $20 million, yet earned approximately $256 million worldwide despite its R rating and the fact that it was never released in China.

Whither Black film

Without question, large budgets and commercial success are not the only measures of a film’s value and significance.

As has historically been the case, Black film has managed to do more with less. The critical acclaim afforded to films such as “BlackKlansman” (2018), “If Beale Street Could Talk” (2019) and “King Richard” (2021) reflect this fact. All reflect trends in contemporary Black filmmaking – comedies, historical dramas and biopics abound, for instance – and were made for a fraction of the cost of both “Black Panther” films.

In truth, the zeal with which some cast “Black Panther” as a bellwether for Black films is part of continued haranguing over their viability, particularly after the #OscarsSoWhite movement that drew attention to the lack of diversity at the 2016 Academy Awards.

However, its positioning as a Disney property within Marvel’s transmedia storytelling effort makes it so atypical that its success — and that of its sequel — portends little about Black film.



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‘Reel justice’: a unique collaboration between university filmmakers and police

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‘Reel justice’: a unique collaboration between university filmmakers and police


How can universities build better relationships with the communities around them? Academia is increasingly considering this question. And finding innovative ways to demonstrate value and connect with wider society.

This was on my mind when I learnt about a fascinating collaboration between the police and aspiring, young filmmakers at the University of Sunderland, which shows the power of research as a tool for public good.

I work for Universal Impact, The Conversation’s commercial subsidiary, and we recently travelled to the northeast to give a training course to University of Sunderland researchers on how to identify, and communicate with, different audiences for their work.

Whenever we work with academics, I’m reminded of the quality and diversity of research taking place all around us – stretching, in this case, from preventing liver damage to boosting performance in modern pentathlon.

After the course, we built on the training with a mentoring programme for a group of researchers including Adelle Hulsmeier, who leads the university’s screen performance BA programme.

Adelle Hulsmeier’s project brings together filmmaking and policing.
University of Sunderland/David Wood

I’m a bit of a movie buff. So I was interested to learn about the unique initiative Adelle runs, bringing together young people and police around an unexpected common ground – film.

Here’s how it works. Northumberland Police suggests themes, students make short films inspired by those themes, and the films are then used as education and training resources.

Like many of my favourite directors, Adelle believes it’s possible to address some of the most pressing social issues through storytelling.

A new approach

The project comes as public trust in the police is in decline, particularly among members of Gen Z (broadly, those born between 1996 and 2010).

Children and young people are also disproportionately affected by crime, often as victims of the most serious offences. But these films offer an opportunity to change the narrative.

And as the Labour government is proposing “respect orders” to address the UK’s 6.7 million annual offences — which cost taxpayers £58.9 billion in 2023-24 — this novel approach seems particularly timely.

Over the past 11 years, more than 1,000 students have worked on at least 50 films, covering topics such as sexual exploitation, domestic violence, male rape and “county lines” drugs trafficking.

The films’ influence extends far beyond the university. They have been integrated into training programmes for police officers, healthcare workers, teachers and other professionals.

Community engagement

The collaboration was born of a desire to make issues of crime and policing widely accessible, with Adelle striving to bridge the gap between academic learning and societal impact.

In 2019, the project received the Collaborative Award for Teaching Excellence from Advance Higher Education, recognising the initiative’s outstanding contribution to education and community engagement.

The programme has also been praised by former Labour MP and Victims’ Commissioner Dame Vera Baird, who described the films as an effective way for the police to “transmit messages in a way that we cannot”.


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Meanwhile, the project is also an opportunity for students to develop critical skills and gain invaluable industry experience.

By empowering students to tackle real world social issues, the University of Sunderland is not only preparing them for the future but also helping to shape a safer, more empathetic world.

This partnership is a testament to the mutual benefits that come from universities and public sector organisations working collectively towards common goals that support their local communities.


At Universal Impact, we offer specialist training, mentoring and research communication services – donating profits back to The Conversation, our parent charity. If you’re a researcher or research institution and you’re interested in working together, please get in touch – or subscribe to our weekly newsletter to find out more.



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Blurry, morphing and surreal – a new AI aesthetic is emerging in film

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Blurry, morphing and surreal – a new AI aesthetic is emerging in film


Type text into AI image and video generators, and you’ll often see outputs of unusual, sometimes creepy, pictures.

In a way, this is a feature, not a bug, of generative AI. And artists are wielding this aesthetic to create a new storytelling art form.

The tools, such as Midjourney to generate images, Runway and Sora to produce videos, and Luma AI to create 3D objects, are relatively cheap or free to use. They allow filmmakers without access to major studio budgets or soundstages to make imaginative short films for the price of a monthly subscription.

I’ve studied these new works as the co-director of the AI for Media & Storytelling studio at the University of Southern California.

Surveying the increasingly captivating output of artists from around the world, I partnered with curators Jonathan Wells and Meg Grey Wells to produce the Flux Festival, a four-day showcase of experiments in AI filmmaking, in November 2024.

While this work remains dizzyingly eclectic in its stylistic diversity, I would argue that it offers traces of insight into our contemporary world. I’m reminded that in both literary and film studies, scholars believe that as cultures shift, so do the way we tell stories.

With this cultural connection in mind, I see five visual trends emerging in film.

1. Morphing, blurring imagery

In her “NanoFictions” series, the French artist Karoline Georges creates portraits of transformation. In one short, “The Beast,” a burly man mutates from a two-legged human into a hunched, skeletal cat, before morphing into a snarling wolf.

The metaphor – man is a monster – is clear. But what’s more compelling is the thrilling fluidity of transformation. There’s a giddy pleasure in seeing the figure’s seamless evolution that speaks to a very contemporary sensibility of shapeshifting across our many digital selves.

Karoline Georges’ short film ‘The Beast.’

This sense of transformation continues in the use of blurry imagery that, in the hands of some artists, becomes an aesthetic feature rather than a vexing problem.

Theo Lindquist’s “Electronic Dance Experiment #3,” for example, begins as a series of rapid-fire shots showing flashes of nude bodies in a soft smear of pastel colors that pulse and throb. Gradually it becomes clear that this strange fluidity of flesh is a dance. But the abstraction in the blur offers its own unique pleasure; the image can be felt as much as it can be seen.

2. The surreal

Thousands of TikTok videos demonstrate how cringey AI images can get, but artists can wield that weirdness and craft it into something transformative. The Singaporean artist known as Niceaunties creates videos that feature older women and cats, riffing on the concept of the “auntie” from Southeast and East Asian cultures.

In one recent video, the aunties let loose clouds of powerful hairspray to hold up impossible towers of hair in a sequence that grows increasingly ridiculous. Even as they’re playful and poignant, the videos created by Niceaunties can pack a political punch. They comment on assumptions about gender and age, for example, while also tackling contemporary issues such as pollution.

On the darker side, in a music video titled “Forest Never Sleeps,” the artist known as Doopiidoo offers up hybrid octopus-women, guitar-playing rats, rooster-pigs and a wood-chopping ostrich-man. The visual chaos is a sweet match for the accompanying death metal music, with surrealism returning as a powerful form.

Doopiidoo’s uncanny music video ‘Forest Never Sleeps’ leverages artificial intelligence to create surreal visuals.
Doopiidoo

3. Dark tales

The often-eerie vibe of so much AI-generated imagery works well for chronicling contemporary ills, a fact that several filmmakers use to unexpected effect.

In “La Fenêtre,” Lucas Ortiz Estefanell of the AI agency SpecialGuestX pairs diverse image sequences of people and places with a contemplative voice-over to ponder ideas of reality, privacy and the lives of artificially generated people. At the same time, he wonders about the strong desire to create these synthetic worlds. “When I first watched this video,” recalls the narrator, “the meaning of the image ceased to make sense.”

In the music video titled “Closer,” based on a song by Iceboy Violet and nueen, filmmaker Mau Morgó captures the world-weary exhaustion of Gen Z through dozens of youthful characters slumbering, often under the green glow of video screens. The snapshot of a generation that has come of age in the era of social media and now artificial intelligence, pictured here with phones clutched close to their bodies as they murmur in their sleep, feels quietly wrenching.

A pre-teen girl dozes while holding a video game controller, surrounded by bright screens.
The music video for ‘Closer’ spotlights a generation awash in screens.
Mau Morgó

4. Nostalgia

Sometimes filmmakers turn to AI to capture the past.

Rome-based filmmaker Andrea Ciulu uses AI to reimagine 1980s East Coast hip-hop culture in “On These Streets,” which depicts the city’s expanse and energy through breakdancing as kids run through alleys and then spin magically up into the air.

Ciulu says that he wanted to capture New York’s urban milieu, all of which he experienced at a distance, from Italy, as a kid. The video thus evokes a sense of nostalgia for a mythic time and place to create a memory that is also hallucinatory.

Andrea Ciulu’s short film ‘On These Streets.’

Similarly, David Slade’s “Shadow Rabbit” borrows black-and-white imagery reminiscent of the 1950s to show small children discovering miniature animals crawling about on their hands. In just a few seconds, Slade depicts the enchanting imagination of children and links it to generated imagery, underscoring AI’s capacities for creating fanciful worlds.

5. New times, new spaces

In his video for the song “The Hardest Part” by Washed Out, filmmaker Paul Trillo creates an infinite zoom that follows a group of characters down the seemingly endless aisle of a school bus, through the high school cafeteria and out onto the highway at night. The video perfectly captures the zoominess of time and the collapse of space for someone young and in love haplessly careening through the world.

The freewheeling camera also characterizes the work of Montreal-based duo Vallée Duhamel, whose music video “The Pulse Within” spins and twirls, careening up and around characters who are cut loose from the laws of gravity.

In both music videos, viewers experience time and space as a dazzling, topsy-turvy vortex where the rules of traditional time and space no longer apply.

A car in flames mid-air on a foggy night.
In Vallée Duhamel’s ‘The Pulse Within,’ the rules of physics no longer apply.
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Right now, in a world where algorithms increasingly shape everyday life, many works of art are beginning to reflect how intertwined we’ve become with computational systems.

What if machines are suggesting new ways to see ourselves, as much as we’re teaching them to see like humans?





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We’re in a golden age for body horror films – as Demi Moore’s The Substance proves

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We’re in a golden age for body horror films – as Demi Moore’s The Substance proves


In the 1980s, film scholar Barbara Creed coined the term the “monstrous-feminine”. It refers to the way that female monsters are typically portrayed as threatening and disgusting for reasons connected to their bodies and their sexuality. New film The Substance takes a leaf out of Creed’s book by proposing a feminist critique of female experience through the visceral language of the body horror, a sub-genre preoccupied with the transformation, destruction or grotesque exaggeration of the human body.

The Substance is a film about a fading Hollywood star who will go to any lengths to stay beautiful. After having her TV aerobics show cancelled, Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) resorts to a mysterious serum that can create a “better” version of her – a younger double she can inhabit a few days at a time.

As the pull of success and the return of public recognition lure Sparkle away from her older, now abandoned self, horrendous mutations ensue. It seems poignant that the protagonist of this dark parable should be played by Moore, an actor whose looks have long been scrutinised.

In the October issue of Sight and Sound, the film’s director, Coralie Fargeat, explains that it’s not intended as a caricature, but “a mirror of society’s misogynistic mentality”. It really is “that gross … that violent in the real world,” she argues.

Many agree with her. In a review for Film International, film critic Alexandra Heller-Nicholas goes as far as to call The Substance a “documentary”, due to its “emotional fidelity”. That is, its ability to make literal the disconnection between body and consciousness caused by ageing, which impacts women particularly negatively.

The trailer for The Substance.

A growing body of films

The Substance is not the only major film in 2024 to be marketed, either fully or in part, as “body horror”. This is surprising because body horror originally emerged as a niche, often independently produced, sub-genre.

Body horror’s gruesome aesthetic and themes of corporeal decay, transformation and mutilation can be off-putting for many viewers. Yet films like Love Lies Bleeding, Tiger Stripes and I Saw the TV Glow (which all had wide releases in 2024) have turned to the sub-genre. Their directors have been drawn to its ability to tell timely stories about the way corporeality, identity and social interactions cannot be separated.

These films are largely about marginalised or maladjusted people. They show how our personal actions and sense of identity are always affected by the availability of role models and the limitations imposed on people by governmental, educational, religious and familial forces. For example, the teenage protagonist in Tiger Stripes rebels against the expectations that, because she is a girl, she should cover her hair, show modesty and be courteous.

From Poor Things and Infinity Pool (both 2023) to Hatching (2022) and Titane (2021), the 2020s are shaping up into something of a new golden age for body horror.

Novelist A.K. Blakemore has written of the rise of “femcore” – a literary trend of “ultraviolent body-horror”. Eliza Clark’s Boy Parts (2020), Alison Rumfitt’s Brainwyrms (2023), Monika Kim’s The Eyes Are the Best Part (2024) and the anthology Of the Flesh (2024) are included under this label.

And there’s a similar trend emerging in streaming shows, from the episode The Outside from Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (2022) to Alice Birch’s remake of David Cronenberg’s Dead Ringers (2023).

The body horror in The Substance.
Courtesy of Mubi

A sub-genre with substance

One of the key things that characterises this contemporary wave of body horror is the influx of directors who identify as women and as queer.

There were far fewer women and queer directors in the late 1970s and 1980s, when body horror gained popularity thanks to films like The Evil Dead (1981), The Fly (1986) and Hellraiser (1987), than there are now. This decade has made big moves towards inclusion, and the film industry has been greatly impacted by social movements like Me Too, Trans Lives Matter and Black Lives Matter, even if much work is yet to be done.

Body horror is particularly appealing to creators who would have previously found it difficult to make a living in the world of commercial filmmaking. Filmmakers (including Rose Glass, Amanda Nell Eu, Jane Schoenbrun, Hanna Bergholm, Julia Ducournau, Michelle Garza Cervera, Natalie Erika James, Alice Maio Mackay, Nia DaCosta and Coralie Fargeat) have found a valuable lexicon for feminist, trans-activist and anti-racist messages in the sub-genre. Many of them talk about their work as highly personal – if not based on their direct experience.

The body horror sub-genre is attuned to the violence of social exclusion and discrimination. Its metamorphic, painful, insidious and carnal nightmares help articulate the concerns of a new generation of artists for whom corporeality, and sometimes simply being visible, has become a political statement.

David Cronenberg closed his classic body horror film Videodrome (1983) with the emblematic line: “Long live the new flesh!” He needn’t have worried. It’s here to stay.


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