Black History Month: The greatest films by black directors that reshaped cinema

"Within Our Gates" was director Oscar Micheaux’s true challenge to D.W. Griffith's racist hallmark "Birth of a Nation," featuring a mixed-race protagonist, Sylvia (Evelyn Preer), who was torn between worlds at a time when even the thought of being biracial was a death sentence. At the time, showing an attempted rape of a black woman by a white man was daring, if not suicidal, filmmaking, but what Micheaux pulled off stands today as a required film showing the true nature of standing up to racism in a time when it was unheard of.

If modern audiences know Spencer Williams’ legacy at all, it’s as Andy in the much-maligned "Amos ’n’ Andy" television show. But he was also a talented filmmaker in his own right and one of the few black directors of the 1940s. "The Blood of Jesus" is a morality tale that draws from the deep roots of the black church. Williams plays Razz, a good-hearted “sinner” who accidentally shoots his God-fearing wife, Martha (Cathryn Caviness), after dropping his rifle on the floor. Martha’s spirit is brought to a crossroads, and the story follows her temptations by both the devil and an angel. In the years since its release, it’s been highly praised as an exemplary work in the race film tradition, and as a historical account of black Southern Baptist culture, it remains invaluable today.

By the time Gordon Parks turned toward filmmaking, he was already a celebrated photographer, with his work showing up in LIFE magazine on a consistent basis. His first effort, the semi-autobiographical "The Learning Tree," is a seminal workshop, as it is the first studio film directed by a black filmmaker. It is also influential in the way in which issues of race are handled in rural 1920s Kansas. The film might be quiet on the surface, but it packs a whallop where it counts and sets the stage for Parks' biggest film to come.

Gordon Parks’ next film is the one he's most remembered for, and it shows. "Shaft" may be a B-movie at its heart, but what Parks managed to do, with the aid of Isaac Hayes’ iconic Oscar-winning theme song, is to create a black action hero for the times who wasn't a caricature but rather a living, breathing idol whom people could look up to. He was someone driven by justice over revenge, and in that alone, audiences responded with huge box office returns — enough to, as some have alluded, save MGM from bankruptcy. Imagine that.

Many look at "Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song" as the genesis of the blaxploitation genre, but this is black cinema verite at its finest. The film was groundbreaking then as it was now because it was proof that more militant black characters could be profitable at the box office. That was something unheard of in 1971, similar to the way in which "Black Panther" proved the viability of diverse superhero characters in modern cinema. One could draw a line from "Sweet Sweetback" directly to "Black Panther."  

When it came out, "Cooley High" was widely compared to another story of teenage boys coming of age, "American Graffiti." But with the benefit of hindsight, "Cooley" is the better film, as it is more clear-eyed and honest in its view of adolescence. (Also, its Motown soundtrack has aged better than the doo-wop and early rock of  "Graffiti.") Written by "Good Times" co-creator Eric Monte, "Cooley High" follows teenage friends from Chicago’s Cabrini-Green projects as they cruise, skip class, ball, flirt, fight and get in just enough trouble. Featuring Glynn Turman, Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs and Garrett Morris, the movie’s low-key good humor influenced a kid from the projects who made his first film appearance in "Cooley" as a basketball player: Robert Townsend.

"Killer of Sheep" went unreleased for decades due to music-clearance issues, but Charles Burnett's classic is now considered a seminal piece of work, even finding itself included in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry. The film itself wasn't all that concerned with the issues of the day as much as it showed how the mundane nature of institutionalized racism pervaded so much of the daily life of black people that it infringed on their very manhood.

While Sidney Poitier is best known for his powerful acting performances, he also had an eye for the director's chair and a true taste for comedy. Pairing two comedic masters in Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder after a successful turn in 1976's "Silver Streak" proved to be a stroke of genius in the hilarious "Stir Crazy," a buddy comedy set behind bars. Its success set a landmark, as it became the first film by a black filmmaker to crack $100 million at the box office.

West Indian director Euzhan Palcy made her feature film debut with "Sugar Cane Alley," a tale about a poor black family on a sugar cane plantation on her native island of Martinique in the 1930s. This slice-of-life film earned its fair share of international awards and put Palcy on the map as a filmmaker, catching the eye of Robert Redford. Through his Sundance Institute, Redford helped her move on to larger projects, like 1989's "A Dry White Season," a project so compelling that it brought Marlon Brando out of a nearly 10-year hiatus to appear in the film.

Using his own money, scraped from maxed-out credit cards, Robert Townsend co-wrote, starred and directed what remains to this day the most accurate depiction of black representation in Hollywood, wrapped of course in a healthy dollop of humor. The film, a series of loose sketches like “Black Acting School” and “Attack of the Street Pimps,” is a superior satire that shows that even when you "make it" you don't really make it at all, especially if you're black in Hollywood.

Keenen Ivory Wayans' feature film debut featured a mix of the old and the new, as storied blaxploitation heroes like Fred Williamson, Isaac Hayes and Bernie Casey send up their tough guy personas to create a comedy classic for a new (at the time) generation. Featuring much of Wayans' family of comedians, "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka" also featured a scene with an unknown-at-the-time rising talent by the name of Chris Rock. The film showed audiences that black filmmakers could go toe-to-toe with anyone in the comedic realm.

When constructing our list, the decision came early on that this would not be a competition. To celebrate the works of black filmmakers, their work must be presented side by side and not pitted against one another. That said, Spike Lee's third film not only stands as his personal best but also as the best that black film has to offer as a whole. "Do the Right Thing" is an urgent masterpiece, unafraid to tackle how prejudice affects everyone and how one bad day can strain even the closest of relationships. Not without flaws, such as the spray-painted "TAWANA TOLD THE TRUTH" shown in one scene (it was later proved that alleged white supremacist-assault victim Tawana Brawley made up her story), what remains rings devastatingly true, and while some audiences will focus on why Mookie threw the trash can, the film provides every reason why.

"Tongues Untied" represents so much both in front of and behind the camera. Director Marlon Riggs wanted to create a first-person documentary/dramatization of life as a gay black man, something that is treated particularly harshly not only by homophobes in general but also within the black community. However, while making this groundbreaking film, Riggs discovered that he himself was HIV-positive, lending a gravity to the final film that shows the vulnerability of a group of men who faced constant danger from without and within. 

Outside of his post-"Malcolm X" project "Crooklyn," "Mo' Better Blues" might be Spike Lee's most personal film. Far removed from the simmering powder keg of racial conflict on the hottest day of the year in "Do the Right Thing," "Mo' Betta Blues" is a decidedly cooler affair, made all the more cool by Lee's meditation on jazz music and a group of upwardly mobile black musicians who suffer and strive for their art — and their love. Certainly a leap forward in his development as an auteur, Lee masterfully directs Denzel Washington as an arrogant horn player who lacks humility but learns the true value of his art at the point where he stands to lose it all. 

The tale of the Trickster in African folklore has been told in many different ways, but Charles Burnett's take on the old myth in a more modern setting is a vital and necessary film that is as powerful (and wickedly funny) as it was when released 28 years ago. Starring Danny Glover as a disruptive old friend who shows up at the door for what turns out to be an extended stay, what looks like a menace turns into something far deeper and more healing for a family whose status-seeking has hurt more than it's helped. Drawing parallels to the sharecroppers of post-slavery America, the film looks to mend old wounds with an honest look at how far black people have come and how much further they still need to go. 

At the young age of 24, John Singleton’s debut made him the youngest nominee ever for the Best Director Oscar. Of course, he, much like the film, came away empty-handed, but that didn't stop "Boyz 'n the Hood" from its rightful place as a seminal film, if not one of the best films of the decade. What's remarkable about this movie, 27-plus years removed from its release, is how the performances from relative newcomers Cuba Gooding Jr., Morris Chestnut and Ice Cube showed an intensity and underlying anger that served as an ominous prologue to the riots to hit the area just one year later. Singleton captured a period, frozen in time, whose innocence (even in the midst of crime) would never be returned.

As wonderful a film as director Julie Dash's "Daughters of the Dust" is, it's hard to shake the notion that not only was the film her only real shot at success in Hollywood as an independent film darling but also the reality that she never received another deal in the years since the critical success of "Daughters." Despite that, what Dash created was without a doubt an inspired and remarkable film depicting life for women in a Gullah Geechee community off the coast of South Carolina. A film as beautiful in cinematography as it was in story, "Daughters of the Dust" deserves new audiences and, with a recent restoration and rerelease, will hopefully find them. 

Released 30 years after his father's most memorable film, director Mario Van Peebles successfully weaves a crime drama tapestry that both entertains and also holds a mirror up to the culture of inner-city drug use in the early '90s when crack cocaine ravaged entire black communities. In Wesley Snipes, Van Peebles found the perfect villain of circumstance: a man you loved to hate while also recognizing that his rise and fall would come at the behest of the city that created him in the first place. 

In many ways, "Malcolm X" was the film that broke Spike Lee. With five films under his belt, Lee was ready to finally tackle the biggest project of his life: the story of the slain civil rights leader who was as controversial as he was magnetic. Filling those shoes was Denzel Washington, who shined for Lee just two years prior in "Mo' Better Blues." With little help from releasing studio Warner Bros., Lee had to rely on help from a wide variety of black celebrities, including Michael Jordan and Oprah Winfrey, to secure the funds to complete the film. The end result is a true epic to be proud of, but outside of his documentaries, Lee would never soar so high ever again until 2018's "BlacKkKlansman."

In the wake of the success of "Boyz 'n the Hood," there were a number of South Central L.A.-based films depicting the ravages of life in the hood, but the Hughes Brothers made the best of these in "Menace II Society." Far more than some cheap knockoff, the film is a tragedy showing how, for some, there is no hope to escape a life of violence, regardless of how much effort is put forth. For some, the hood is a trap impossible to break free from. The Hughes Brothers, with the help of key performances from Samuel L. Jackson (in a cameo) to a breakthrough performance by Larenz Tate as a young man who was as lethal as he was loyal, delivered a memorable film that carries the same impact to this day.

With Denzel Washington at the height of his powers, Carl Franklin created a near-flawless film with noir actors in what was supposed to be the first of a number of adaptations of author Walter Mosley's "Easy Rawlins" series of novels. While "Devil in a Blue Dress" failed to capture the box office, it did give us magnetic performances from Washington and Don Cheadle, whose hot-tempered friend Mouse nearly steals the show. It stands atop Cheadle's best performances to date. This is a film worth revisiting more than once.

"The Watermelon Woman" is a coming-out party of sorts for writer-director Cheryl Dunye, who plays a character also named Cheryl, a movie geek who becomes enamored with an ambiguous black actress she sees popping up in roles where she always appears as the "mammy." Known only as the "Watermelon Woman," Cheryl sets out to learn more about this mystery woman with the goal of making a documentary about her. What follows is a thoughtful and often hilarious testament to the marginalization of women of color, particularly lesbians, in popular culture. It's a seminal piece of work from a director who deserved more opportunities but instead became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The third film from Spike Lee on our list is unique to every other film on said list in that "25th Hour" is not necessarily a "black film" but rather an expertly directed film by a black man with a cast of predominately white characters. For Lee it was a departure from his usual fare, where he is typically responsible for the script as well as the direction, instead relying on an adaptation of an existing novel to tell the tale of a man (Edward Norton) spending his last day of freedom before a seven-year prison sentence. While that part of the story didn't come from Lee, what did was the way, as a New Yorker, he weaves in an overarching tale about a New York City still recovering from 9/11 in a way that only he could.

Spike Lee’s fourth appearance on our list may be his most powerful. This four-part documentary breaking down the events in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, released almost exactly a year after the storm, comes with every bit of the fury and intensity of a Category 4 storm. Getting some rather brutally honest interviews from those on the ground so soon after the tragedy serves as a dark time capsule depicting how so many poor, black Americans were utterly let down by their government on both a local and national level. These heartbreaking tales, shared by those still scarred and wounded by the experience only a year later, is haunting and a sobering reminder that even in the 21st century, we have so far left to go. 

Before Ryan Coogler found success as director of "Creed" and Marvel Studios' "Black Panther," his debut was much quieter while still packing a punch harder than any superhero could swing. Based on the tragic death of Oscar Grant, "Fruitvale Station" is both modest and heartwrenching in its portrait of a man living the last day of his life before becoming yet another victim of an epidemic that always ends in the destruction of black bodies. While Coogler could've treated Grant, as portrayed by Michael B. Jordan, as an unwitting martyr, he chose to treat him like a human being, something the BART police officers refused to do. 

Picking up spiritually where "Tongues Untied" left off in the conversation about being black and gay in America, Barry Jenkins' Oscar-winning tale of a young man portrayed through three phases in his life struggling with his sexuality and his manhood may have been quiet where it should've been loud. But that may have been the very point Jenkins wanted to make. What remains is a film that bleeds humanity through every minute of its running time. 

Orenthal James Simpson was considered by many to be a "Black Superman" of sorts during a period when America didn't think much of black men in general. Director Ezra Edelman took that conceit and paralleled it not only with what would become of O.J. but also with a part of black America that O.J. didn't think he was a part of until he found himself on trial for double murder. The end result is an epic, expert, nearly eight-hour documentary that serves as not only a thorough examination of the "Trial of the Century" but also as a portrait of how blacks in America suffered throughout the time O.J. was celebrated. Irony rarely cuts so sharply.

It's hard to look at Jordan Peele's directorial debut and not view it with a sense of awe on a number of levels. For a first-time director to do so much and so right is remarkable enough on its own, but for that first-time director to be able to get financing from a major motion picture studio to tell a story that strikes at the heart of white ally liberalism is both fascinating and, frankly, needed. "Get Out" is a horror film at its heart, but the horror hits close to home for people of color who never question too loudly whether they can really trust their allies...until now.

For Ryan Coogler, every success in his still-young career led to this moment of him not only directing Marvel Studios' "Black Panther" but making it the most successful superhero film of all time at the domestic box office. A cracking action film,"Black Panther" also was a cultural moment — one people of color globally were attracted to, elevating the film far beyond its pulpy roots. For its efforts, "Black Panther" managed to break yet another barrier, as it found itself nominated for Best Picture at the 2019 Academy Awards, something no other film in the genre had accomplished to date.

Saving the best for last, it seems, is Spike Lee's cause célèbre. After a career that seemed to run a bit stagnant, Lee released a powder keg in the form of "BlacKkKlansman," a loose depiction of Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) and his infiltration of the Ku Klux Klan in Colorado in the '70s. Juxtaposing Stallworth's experiences against the modern-day resurgence of overt white supremacists gives a true sense of pause as we go from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all to shedding tears over the reality that the more things change, the more they stay the same.