MAY 17: Ganja and Hess

            If you’ve seen The Night of the Living Dead, you’ve no doubt thrilled at the screen presence of Duane Jones, who portrays heroic protagonist Ben. You may have wondered – where else can I see this guy? What else has he been in? Wouldn’t it be cool to see him portray a suave vampire, in a stylish arthouse film that’s also a sexy romance, made by distinguished black filmmaker and playwright Bill Gunn? Fortunately, he did! And that’s Ganja & Hess, a film that I’m immensely glad exists.

            Duane Jones is Dr. Hess Greene, a genteel anthropologist who specializes in Myrthia, an ancient African civilization that believed it had become addicted to blood. One night, his troubled assistant, George Meda, stabs Hess with a Myrthian dagger before killing himself, accidentally turning Hess into a vampire (or maybe he was one already). Hess is a reluctant blood drinker, stealing blood from hospitals before he gives in and takes victims. Soon enough, Meda’s wife, Ganja, turns up looking for her unfortunate husband. Sparks fly, and the two quickly commence a passionate affair, but Hess’ addiction may doom them.

            It’s no surprise that Duane Jones delivers a great performance as the dignified and understated Hess. He’s worlds away from his more famous role as Ben; unlike the willful Ben, Hess never raises his voice and rarely loses his temper, which makes his moments of anguish and transcendence all the more transfixing. But once Ganja arrives, about a third of the way through the film, it’s Ganja’s movie. Marlene Clark is captivating; her Ganja is charismatic, demanding, and sure of her worth, with the energy of Eartha Kitt singing Champagne Taste. At the point in the movie where you expect Hess to explain his vampirism to Ganja, the movie instead gives her a monologue where she explains her life philosophy of righteous selfishness that’s just one of my favorite things I’ve seen on film, and let’s you fill in the gaps from there. She’s a character with unexpected depth, and one of the best things about the film.

Ganja, my queen, enjoys some lunch

            But there are many, many great things here. I love a movie that takes its mythos seriously, and for all that Bill Gunn had initially little interest in making a vampire flick, he’s deeply thoughtful about his vampires. The opening fifteen minutes or so provide the exposition in the form of a brief dialogue, some gospel music, and a voiceover by a minor character who turns out to be not so minor. It almost has the feel of a documentary; it nicely sets up the rules of the movie, sure, but also outlines the movie’s metaphors. This vampirism is a perversion of the Eucharist, but it’s story of addiction, of enslavement and imperialism, of faith and Christianity. Resisting simple allegory, the film opens itself to a multiplicity of readings. Unlike Blacula, the movie Gunn’s financiers surely expected him to make, there’s no Dracula here. Gunn’s vampires are distinctly African in origin. The film constructs its own distinct mythology, complete with its own ingenious explanation for the cross’ deadly power over Hess, and the film is all the richer for it.

            As has become increasingly clear to me in this lineup, I adore the editing in ‘70s artsy films. Ganja & Hess is an exemplar case. The film alternates between long, theatrical shots of dialogue and monologue, gesturing to Gunn’s theater background, and kinetic, noisy sequences as bloodlust takes over. Both styles are equally gripping and entrancing. Amidst the style, the story is a bit difficult to follow – the film’s prologue suggests Hess is already a vampire, while the next sequence seems to present an origin story incongruous with the film’s opening scroll. I found that I appreciated this lack of clarity. It kept the focus on the characters, on the relationship between Hess and Ganja, and on the symbolism of its horror. The plot becomes incidental to the artistry, but the characters never get lost. Like so many of these ‘70s films, it feels dreamlike, moments of grounded realism interspersed with cinematic phantasmagoria, like sleeping and waking over and over again.

            This is all to say, this is the kind of film you could write a thesis on, rich in ideas, and a showcase for two brilliant actors. It’s a unique take on the vampire film, more erotic, gripping, and strange than most. One of art/horror’s great gems.  

 Editing in action

Vibecheck: I get why MoMA has the print of the original director’s cut, because this is artsy as hell. By the way, Cannes loves the fuck out of the movie.

Scare Factor: There’s plenty of artfully rendered blood and the occasional moment of jarring violence, but this is by far more thinky than scary.

Pairs Well With: I originally intended to watch this with Blacula when it was assigned to me for class but ended up not having the time for an extra nearly two-hour film that week. Maybe for the best – it wouldn’t have been fair to Blacula, which has its own campy charms. I was trying to think for another movie that’s similarly thoughtful about its monsters, and nothing immediately came to find, but maybe other off-beat vampire movies like Martin or The Transfiguration would fit the bill – but I haven’t seen them yet. I do know that this would make a deserving double-feature with A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, two very different artsy takes on vampires that decouple its monsters from its usual European origins.

But how gay is it?: No vampire film can ever be ~completely~ straight, but this is one of the straighter ones, since the chemistry between the titular couple makes this a rare hetero pairing in horror that’s actually sexy.

Girlfriend’s Corner: Very upset I didn’t watch this one! L It seems so up my alley. God, I need to be better about sitting in for Seventies Night.