The black character always dies first. We all know it. It’s practically printed in the horror rule book right after ‘don’t split up.’ But “The Blackening” tears that page out, sets it on fire, and laughs while doing it. This movie takes that tired trope and says, ‘What if the Black characters didn’t die first? What if they lived, had fun, made jokes and had actual personalities?’ 

Radical. I know.

Released in 2023, “The Blackening” brought something horror desperately needed: a cast full of Black characters with range – messy, funny, chaotic, brilliant – and absolutely nobody here is the ‘token friend.’

The film calls out how horror has treated Black folks like background decorations, using fear foolishness to make a new point: Black people deserve to survive the story and look good doing it. It’s not just a parody – it’s a cultural shift served with jump scares and inside jokes.

Black horror hasn’t always had this kind of confidence. For decades, Black characters existed only to warn everyone else that the vibes were off before mysteriously disappearing from the script. It wasn’t until the 1970s (shoutout to “Blacula” and “Sugar Hill”) that Black filmmakers started saying, ‘Actually, what if we were the cool ones?’ 

Fast forward to Jordan Peele (“Get Out”, “Us”) and Nia DaCosta (“Candyman”) who proved that horror can fearlessly explore racism and trauma while still keeping audiences glued to the screen (and side-eyeing teacups forever).

“The Blackening”  builds on that legacy – but instead of trauma, it leans into joy.  Instead of symbolism that gives you nightmares, it gives you jokes that hurt your stomach. Survival isn’t just dramatic – it’s fun.

And let’s talk about the premise. A cabin in the woods? Horror’s favorite playground. But this time, everyone has common sense. They are fully aware of the tropes – they’ve seen the movies – and they refuse to go out bad.

Even the killer’s trivia game becomes a hilarious call out of the pressure to ‘perform’ Blackness. The characters use what horror usually punishes them for – Black culture – as their superpower. The result: Blackness is no longer a liability, it’s literally how they stay alive.

But the best part? The jokes hit because they come from real experiences. The film doesn’t shy away from inside-the-community conversations – colorism, class, code-switching all the complicated ways Black people are expected to ‘prove’ who they are.

The characters tease each other ruthlessly, but underneath the laughter is the truth: surviving stereotypes can be just as scary as surviving a masked killer in the woods. Comedy becomes resistance. Laughter becomes survival. And for once, the Black characters aren’t running just from the villain – they’re running the whole show.

“The Blackening” proves something the horror genre has taken way too long to understand: Black people don’t have to be the joke, the warning, or the sacrifice. They can be the heroes, the leads, the one left standing when the credits roll – snacking, complaining, and celebrating because they made it.

It’s clever. It’s culturally aware. It’s a reminder that horror doesn’t just scare – it reflects. It celebrates. It lets us laugh at the things that once tried to kill us off first. If this is the future of Black horror, then bring on the slasher sequels, because the next era of fear is looking a whole lot more fun and a whole lot more Black.