What The Low budget Horror Gem “Sweetheart” Has To Say About Being Heard. (Mild Spoilers)
Sometimes being a blerd means digging a little deeper into the genre toy chest to find the thrill you're looking for. A streaming app may be jam-packed with all kinds of horror, sci-fi, and action offerings, but finding one that doesn’t treat its Black characters as lesser or expandable is where the challenge comes in. Many times, I have been fully invested in an entertaining story, only to be yanked out by a sudden offensive depiction or senseless death.
During one of these searches, I came across a 2019 Blumhosue horror film called “Sweetheart”, written and directed by J. D. Dillard on Netflix. Something about the sparseness of the concept ( A castaway must survive on the island she washed up on while stalked by a mysterious sea monster) and the fact that the movie had a Black female protagonist, made me give it a chance.
To my pleasant surprise, not only was the movie skillfully made on a limited budget, but it had something very clear to say about Black women in society.
Before I continue, it’s necessary to state the obvious. I am not a Black woman so I don’t want to ever assume to fully understand the mental and emotional intricacies of being one at any moment in society. However, I’m fortunate enough to have spent my life surrounded by their insight and love, so I immediately picked up on the thematic richness of this film.
Since “Sweetheart” takes place entirely on a small desert island, we spend most of its running time with the film’s main character, Jennifer Remming, played by Keirsey Clemmens. She is shipwrecked, alone, and forced to fend for herself.
It isn’t hard to read this as a metaphor for the way a Black woman can feel isolated by a society that is always ready to view them through the lens of a stereotype, instead of an individual who is worthy of a fully realized life experience. This often results in feeling like a constant outsider.
Even though faced with the immense challenge of survival, the movie doesn’t allow Jennifer to wallow in self-pity. After an initial panic, she composes herself and begins taking stock of her situation.
One could read her behavior as acceptance that society isn't set up to make as much a fuss of her being missing, so there’s no sense in doing anything but taking matters into her own hands. She immediately begins assessing the situation and works on how to resolve it, even in the face of grief and the sudden appearance of a carnivorous man-like sea creature.
Due to its genre, the movie is essentially a gauntlet of increasingly difficult challenges for Jennifer to overcome. What makes this film more profound than usual is the ingenious way it challenges her in its third act. Jennifer is ecstatic when two of her companions on the cruise ship that sank wash up on shore, her current boyfriend Lucas Griffin and friend Mia Reed.
To her, they represent the hope that someone will be able to acknowledge the traumatic events she has just experienced and will offer some form of salvation. Her hopes are dashed when Lucas and Mia can’t bring themselves to believe that she is being stalked by a monster that will kill them all if they go back into the water. They almost instantly dismiss her story as some sort of hysteria and waste no time physically restraining Jennifer when she doesn't back down.
It would seem that the choice to make Jennifer’s friends a white male and female was no accident by the writer-director. At first, it seems that Lucas will be the only aggressor in the situation and that Mia will join Jennifer’s side as an ally. It doesn’t take long for both Lucas and Mia to accept their view of reality over Jennifer’s, and not only dismiss her but treat her as hostile when she insists on asserting her perspective. Once again, the metaphor is made clear. As a Black woman, there’s a chance that even the people you share your most intimate relationships with can be willing to reduce you to a stereotype and dismiss you once they decide you have become an annoyance. The film even goes so far as to suggest through certain line readings and interactions that Jennifer’s struggle for survival began before the events on the island when she entered into a relationship with a man outside of her racial, social and financial environment.
As enjoyable and skillfully made as “Sweetheart” is, I have to address the fact that it was directed by J. D. Dillard, from a script he wrote along with Alex Hyner and Alex Theurer. None of whom are Black women. In an ideal scenario, the person or persons behind the scenes who represent the same cultural perspective as the main character would have significant creative input. While there is still progress to be made, at least this film is a step in the right direction.
The magic of genre storytelling is that the most surface and pulpy premise can be packed with insight into the human condition. All that is needed is a strong opinion and the knowledge of which genre elements to sprinkle on top of it. If you’re in the mood for a good, lean horror flick showcasing a character of color that is respectful and has something to say, “Sweetheart” might just hit the spot.
If you enjoyed this piece or want to drop your opinion, feel free to drop a comment or a clap! It’s always appreciated.
