A Love Letter to ‘Tales From the Hood’
[Circa 1998] In southside Richmond, off Rusk Avenue, I sat in a house near the woods. It was summertime and too hot to go outside. My two brothers, my cousin, and I spread ourselves across the bed and brown carpeted floor. My older brother pushed a VHS into the VCR. We turned toward the SHARP TV with the protruding back as he fast-forwarded past New Jersey Drive (1995). He pressed play on a blue screen that let us know it was rated R. I shut the door. The familiar Universal logo appeared on the screen and before I knew it, I heard sharp violins and vocals.
Once the movie started, I felt at home. I heard the music and the cadence of the characters’ voices and saw neighbors, friends, and kinfolk. For the 90 plus minute runtime, we sat mostly in silence. Only the hitching hum of a dingy air conditioner replaced the absence of our voices. Something about this movie was different; it was heavy. We were engaged in a way we had never been before. I sat on the floor with my legs folded and my head tilted up towards the TV that sat on the dresser with the missing drawer. My little heart thudded as the emotions swirled around me. I felt fear, triumph, and what I would later recognize as anxiety. This was a dark slice of life. From that moment, I knew I was in love.
Also Read: Watching ‘Mandy’ With Grandma
I wasn’t new to the genre when I watched Tales From the Hood that summer. I had seen Scream in theaters with my mother two years prior. Freddy and Chucky frequented my dreams. I was already a Friday the 13th fan (mainly because of the hockey mask) at the time. I had started my journey of chasing the thrills that horror movies provided. But this gave me something deeper than horror. It was the first time I saw the social commentary and I could relate.
A few years before, I saw Candyman (1992). I was too young to grasp the social commentary. I could only pull fear from that film at the time. When I watched Tales From the Hood I was able to experience fear, while also connecting the stories to real-life experiences. By the age of 8, I had witnessed child abuse and police brutality. I had seen gun violence up close. Each story had aspects that I could connect with my experience as a little black girl in ’90s Richmond. This film expanded my view of horror; it could be more than thrills. It could be a voice. It could tell the truth.
I want to take the time to give this film its flowers. It’s underrated and its social commentary is still relevant. I owe my love of anthologies to this film. It is responsible for introducing me to Clarence Williams III. I am forever grateful for the impression Tales from the Hood has left on me. I’d like to share a few of the reasons why I love this movie so deeply.
Also Read: Horror YouTuber Bobby Torrez Shares His Favorite Final Girls [Dread Talks]
The score was one of the first things that drew me to watch this movie multiple times. As the movie starts, the violins create an unsettling atmosphere. Then the movie gives me a slice of home with the hip-hop played throughout. The use of the music creates waves of comfort and unease. It feels like a rollercoaster, and I love it.
The film also reminded me of how I felt when I saw Eve’s Bayou (1997) for the first time. It was rare to see aesthetics in horror that were tangible to me. I always saw suburbs, camps, rural areas, or, the Hollywood favorite, New York City. While the movie didn’t specifically feel like Richmond, it felt like my auntie’s house. It looked like someone I could know. There were so many small details that were specific to my experience.
I recognized the wooden swinging kitchen door in “Boys Do Get Bruised”. The sandals on his mother’s feet were equally familiar. Even the glass doorknobs in the movie were a part of my surroundings growing up. In “Rogue Cop Revelation”, the use of the mural reminded me of the murals spread across my hometown. “KKK Comeuppance” is centered around a large plantation house. In Virginia, you can find those across the state. This movie feels like sitting between your mom’s legs and getting your braided. Tales from the Hood is like the kanekalon hair to my scalp.
Also Read: 10 Horror Anthologies Guaranteed To Get You In The Halloween Spirit
The language used in the script made it easy to connect to the characters. At times, I felt like a distant cousin was telling me their story. The language wrapped me up like a warm blanket. I related to the use of “narrow behind” and “didn’t I tell you…” from a scolding mother. I almost felt like I was being scolded alongside Walter in “Boys Do Get Bruised”. I had not experienced horror using the voice of a Black mother. Over 25 years after its release, the dialect still takes me to the same place in my childhood.
While I could go on and on about Tales from the Hood, I will end on the point of the kills. This movie has some of the most unique kills I’ve ever seen. A ghoul decapitates someone with their bare hands. A man is folded like origami in the middle of a kitchen. Someone swallows syringes and melts into a mural. Tiny dolls eat a man alive. The creativity incorporated into a six-million-dollar budget Impresses me every time! This film holds a special place in my heart and I implore horror fans to check it out.
Categorized:Editorials News
