Making Waves: An Odyssey through Black Cinema

Black cinema is a revolution—a dynamic and transformative force that challenges, disrupts, and redefines societal narratives. From Oscar Micheaux’s pioneering silent films to provocative sci-fi think pieces like They Cloned Tyrone, in the face of formidable challenges, Black filmmakers and performers converged to create a visual language to define our collective existence. These artists infiltrated an industry that sought to marginalize and circumscribe their contributions, working to resist racist stereotypes and navigating the commercial landscape that perpetuates them. The evolving story of Black cinema is not not only a testament to the creative tenacity of Black artists, but an acknowledgment of the lasting impact these films have had on shaping the narrative of our history.

To commemorate Black History Month, MoMA Magazine invited Black film scholars and creators to select a collection of 29 impactful Black films spanning many genres and forms. Whether hidden gems or critically acclaimed classics, these movies serve as reflections of the diverse narratives that shape the Black experience.

Mi Aporte (My Contribution). 1969. Sara Gómez

Often crediting herself with only her nickname, Sarita, Sara Gómez was post-revolutionary Cuba’s singular Black woman filmmaker. Devoted to the larger vision of the new state, she highlighted the unequal conditions of Afro-Cubans while depicting their histories and cultural practices. This documentary was her cheeky answer to a national campaign to increase sugar production, to which the population was expected to contribute. She made her contribution both cinematic and—in an ironic subversion of the individualizing “my” in the title—collective. The film offers crucial insight into the gendered and racialized experience of everyday labor, with a stunning meta-cinematic finale: in the last section, Gómez turns the camera toward an audience of women who have just watched the film up to that point, documenting their pluralistic responses to what they saw. A bold work of the 1960s, Mi Aporte sets the tone for a playlist of documentaries from the four following decades depicting Black women’s negotiations with community, work, family, and self. —Yasmina Price

Tony Williams In Africa. 1972. Willie Ruff

Since I first saw it in March 2022, the documentary Tony Williams in Africa is the film that has had the most impact on my life and career. I discovered it at an intimate screening presented by Brian Meacham from the Yale Film Archives at the Roxy Cinema. The flow of images that followed was pure bebop, an avant-garde ethnographic exchange between world-renowned drummer Tony Williams and master percussionists from Senegal. With Dwike Mitchell, filmmaker Willie Ruff (who passed away in December 2023) set out to chronicle the revolutionary significance of African talking drums, long used to communicate between tribes and heavily guarded from outsiders. Ruff was discouraged, and was even turned down by other jazz drummers including Max Roach. But he persisted, finally convincing Williams to join him. Securing a small endowment and a supply of 8mm film, he captured an explosion of color, fashion, daily life, and a riotous jam session in a small village near Dakar. Williams and master djembe drummers play in a trance, while onlookers become possessed to join in dance. The most inspiring sequence occurs at the very end. You’ll have to watch it for yourself. I won’t give it away. —Melissa Lyde

Emma Mae. 1976. Jamaa Fanaka

According to Jamaa Fanakaa’s fierce, fearless Emma Mae, nothing can stop a Black woman in love. An LA Rebellion alumnus, Fanakaa left behind an Olympic-sized legacy in the worlds of Black action films and self-determination, being one of the few filmmakers who sued the Hollywood system for parity. Blacklisted but not counted out, his films are a testament to his tremendous talent. He crafts films from a place of victory and not victimhood, and does it with exquisite beauty; I am floored by his cinematography, framing, and poignant lighting design. As portrayed by Jerri Mays, Emma Mae is bold and beautiful, and has a ready right hook. I love seeing a Black woman radicalized on screen! Mays is supported by a dynamic ensemble cast and is given biting dialogue that is both revolutionary and hilarious. This film is also a time capsule of Black LA and its melding with Mexican and Southern traditions. This was Mays’s only acting credit, and she was subsequently ignored, like so many before her who didn’t fit Hollywood’s standards of beauty. That will always be a thorn in my side, but at least we have this film as proof that Black is unapologetically Beautiful. —ML

I Heard It through the Grapevine. 1982. Dick Fontaine, Pat Hartley

I Heard It through the Grapevine is currently in its second theatrical run; it was the last profoundly moving film I watched in 2023. Released by the Film Desk after a 10-year restoration, and directed by Pat Hartley and Dick Fontaine, it documents James Baldwin’s return to the deep South 20 years after the civil rights struggle of the 1960s. In a Harlem jazz bar, Baldwin recounts this journey to his brother David Jr.; stops on his tour include Atlanta, Selma, Birmingham, New Orleans, and Newark. Along the way, he reunites with literary luminaries like Sterling Brown, Chinua Achebe, and Amiri Baraka. Though he’d been agitated by film crews in the past, in I Heard It through the Grapevine Baldwin is more relaxed, still charged but more introspective and intimate. The new footage is accompanied by exquisite archival material that revisits the ’60s, and what it meant to the filmmakers and to Baldwin. Together, the trio attempts to answer that long unresolved question—Where do we go from here?—and heal the wounds of bygone protests. —ML

In Motion: Amiri Baraka. 1983. Saint Clair Bourne

I met Saint in 1980, when I edited his film Chicago Blues. He was my personal hero who changed my whole point of view about what it meant to be a Black filmmaker and the responsibility I had as a Black filmmaker. A few years later he made In Motion: Amiri Baraka, and he captured one of the greatest American poets and activists, Amiri Baraka. I thought then, as I do now, that this film was one of Saint’s most compelling and important films. He captured Amiri as the rambunctious and challenging poet who did not suffer fools. In my opinion, he is one of the most important poets of the 20th century. —SP

A Powerful Thang. 1991. Zeinabu irene Davis

There’s this current nostalgic obsession with the ’90s being seen as the coolest era of Black culture and the peak of Black love. Zeinabu irene Davis’s A Powerful Thang totally pushes that agenda. Taking place on one day in what Davis calls “Afro-Ohio,” the film introduces a young couple on the verge of the next step in their relationship. Yasmine is a writer and dancer getting back into the dating game after becoming a mother. Craig is a musician and schoolteacher who is totally gone on his new lady. Yasmine is ready to break her self-imposed celibacy, while Craig is a bit gunshy. Viewers get invited in to watch an honest take on both parties stumbling through what can be an awkward and nerve-wracking transition. The pan-African spirit of the ’90s, fashion, and jazz make for a solid supporting cast in this absurdly hip indie that leaves you wishing it extended beyond its 57-minute runtime. —Stephanye Watts

Femmes aux yeux ouverts (Women with Open Eyes). 1994. Anne-Laure Folly

In this documentary, Togolese filmmaker Anne-Laure Folly presented a prismatic set of perspectives from West African women in Benin, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Senegal. Her keen and careful cinematic eye was inspired by the militancy of earlier generations of African women filmmakers, particularly Sarah Maldoror and Safi Faye. With an immersive technique set to the tempo of everyday life, Femmes aux yeux ouverts chronicles how women in these countries navigate social constraints, economic responsibilities, and political issues. It engages with sensitive subjects such as “female circumcision,” AIDS, and forced marriage; they were too often depicted on screen through the colonial lens of Western philanthropy. Folly’s documentary performs the valuable task of record-keeping for African women’s efforts to organize and collectively demand change. The title is a defiant twist on a poem that opens the film, which cautions that proper women should keep their eyes closed. The message here is clear: they do, in fact, keep their eyes open. —YP

The Changing Same. 2001. Cauleen Smith

Cauleen Smith’s devotion to rhythm and ambiguity in Blackness is gorgeously displayed in this film. Unraveling the poetically perplexing layers of an alien-scouting mission, The Changing Same is an exceptional genre-bending, sci-fi romance-thriller. Smith is the kind of expressionist filmmaker who makes jazz on screen and calls it a film. She is patient with her audience, allowing just the right amount of interpersonal conversation. I love that you don’t know what you’ve watched until the last frame is over. I love films that stir confusion inside of me, that make me feel something. You always get a physical reaction in the presence of Cauleen’s art. I won’t say that I wish she had been given more film opportunities by Hollywood, as she is unparalleled as an artist, but I do think that she would have been a game-changer if she had been supported earlier in her career. All the same, Cauleen stays true to herself, and we’re blessed to witness it. The Changing Same is further evidence of her multidimensional genius. —ML

13th. 2016. Ava DuVernay

“But slavery was abolished over 100 years ago…” a misinformed argument used to claim racial inequality has mostly ended. Documentaries have the rare ability to contextualize difficult subject matter through emotionally evocative and human-centered narratives. 13th was my introduction to one of my favorite directors: Ava DuVernay. The film examines how the American system of incarceration, also known as the prison industrial complex, targets Black and Brown communities. It reveals an infuriating cycle of “well disguised systems of racialized social control.” From slavery and Jim Crow to the War on Drugs, the rise in police brutality, and privatized for-profit prisons, there is a traceable history and presence of systems designed to oppress and ostracize people of color. DuVernay propels the viewer on a confrontational journey that elicits a sense of urgency and calls for action. The dehumanization of African Americans who have been incarcerated in this country is deeply rooted in American history. Narratives of fear and mistrust in the Black community perpetuated by people and systems of power remain an ongoing struggle that influences public opinion and the justice system at large. Despite the traumatic weight of history and continued plights of African Americans, the documentary’s final scenes are of recreation and Black joy. To me, it concludes that Black people have, can, and will always prevail. —Alexandra Warner

Sorry to Bother You. 2018. Boots Riley

Sorry to Bother You is an exhilarating watch. Directed as only Boots Riley could, the film is a satirical critique of the dehumanizing effects of corporate culture. Set against the backdrop of a dystopian version of Oakland, the aptly named film follows Cassius Green, a struggling telemarketer who discovers the key to success: using his “white voice.” As he ascends at his company, Cassius finds his transformation hinges on his ability to assimilate. Sorry to Bother You distinguishes itself through Boots Riley’s bold directorial style. One of the most notable stylistic choices in the film is its vibrant surreal aesthetic, seamlessly transitioning between fantasy and reality to create a cinematic experience that amplifies its critique. Riley interrogates the absurd lengths to which individuals must go to navigate a society built on inequality and exploitation. —DC

Slice. 2018. Zaire Love

The aggressive explosion of the Internet and social media over the last two decades has done quite the number on culture. While introducing us to subgenres of human existence we previously had no access to, it has also issued a major threat to regionalism. No matter where you are in the world, people have flattened to a singular look, dialect, and interest, making it hard to know where someone is even from. Slice, however, is just so Memphis! This short, directed by Zaire Love, documents the aquatic subculture of slicing. Created by Black youth in the city, it’s a fly take on diving that requires a level of precision Olympians would struggle to master. Rico Golden is the heart of the film, who, alongside his OGs, peers, and mentees, explores the intricacies of the birthing of culture from a lack of resources and an overabundance of ingenuity and creative power. —SW

When I Get Home. 2019. Solange Knowles

“I saw things I imagined, things I imagined, I saw things I imagined, things imagined….” From the film’s opening hymn, each moment of When I Get Home is a portal. Through the lens of her ancestral home, Houston, Solange Knowles’s avant-garde, multidisciplinary film is a 40-minute visual accompaniment to her album of the same name. Rooted in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, the film presents a homecoming that is both existential and reflective, asking, “How much of ourselves do we carry in our evolution?” Through sonic mantras and ethereal soundscapes, Solange leads us on a quest for origin, as she navigates the liminal spaces between memory and imagination, tradition and innovation. Solange weaves together scenes of Houston’s cultural landscape with dreamlike sequences that evoke nostalgia and longing. We see Afrofuturist visuals of crimped hair styles, Black cowboys, and webcam dance sessions. In When I Get Home, Solange provides us mesmerizing visual language for self-discovery and transformation. I’d recommend Sun Ra’s Space Is the Place for further watching. —DC

I Snuck Off the Slave Ship. 2019. Cyrus Moussavi, Lonnie Holley

Hot take: Music videos are a genre of short film. Artist Lonnie Holley’s 2019 I Snuck Off the Slave Ship is easily one of the greatest of our time. Lifted from an 18-minute song from his third album, Mith, Holley’s film builds an Afrofuturist landscape within the grounds of his ancestral lineage in Georgia. Framing America as the slave ship, he grapples with home being opposed to your existence and the need to lean on your imagination to escape the only place you know. Featuring Holley’s incredible sculptures, which range in scale from sunglasses to massive structures, the film also serves as a retrospective of his extensive career. —SW

She Gather Me. 2021. Miatta Kawinzi

Multidisciplinary artist Miatta Kawinzi’s She Gather Me was a discovery from a superb program at Maysles Documentary Center, curated by filmmaker Christopher Harris. For me, Miatta’s art exists in the space you inhabit when you close your eyes and drift into the in-between, a poetic invocation of levitating. She Gather Me is titled after a line from Toni Morrison’s Beloved, and invites witnesses into a refuge of remembrance. It was filmed over three years in New York and various locations around the world. Every detailed frame is filled with images and sounds that exude the fragrance of Miatta’s labor and love. I am deeply moved by her commitment to memorializing the brilliance of Black women, in film, song, science, and sacrifice. This work is already an iconic contribution to Black millennial women’s video art. —ML