By RACHEL REEVES
In an effort to bolster the frustratingly slim list of Black horror villains, writer/director Bill Posley submits a new baddie to the bunch with his latest film, BITCH ASS. Recently making its World Premiere in the Midnighters section of this year’s SXSW Film Festival, the film gathers all the right pieces for a new (and much overdue) Black horror franchise. However, the odd way in which those same pieces are assembled creates a disappointing experience that ultimately, deals a losing hand.
Starting off strong, BITCH ASS is introduced by horror icon Tony Todd. Fully embracing the horror host persona, Todd gleefully sets the stage for the story which is about to unfold. Blatantly referencing films like Bones, Tales from the Hood, Candyman (of course), and The People Under the Stairs, BITCH ASS is positioned to soon join them as genre classics. Boasting the “first Black serial killer to don a mask,” the excitement is palpable and well-translated as the film’s wonderful title credit sequence and theme song give way to the film itself.
Featuring an all-Black cast, the film opens in 1999 with Spade (Sheaun McKinney), a local gang leader addressing a group of young recruits. All old friends, Cricket (Belle Guillory), Moo (A-F-R-O), Tuck (Kelsey Caesar), and Q (Teon Kelley) stand ready for their initiation assignment. Tasked with robbing the home of a deceased woman on what is locally called 666 Night, the group hesitates due to rumors the woman’s grandson, Cecil may still reside there. Each desperate to prove themselves for different reasons, the kids push their concerns to the side and move forward with their plan.
After breaking into the home, the group disperses to search for the piles of cash supposedly hidden somewhere inside. However, they soon find they are not alone as the teens get introduced one-by-one to Bitch Ass (Tunde Laleye) himself. Dressed to the nines in a black suit, red tie, and a black leather mask, Bitch Ass ensnares the teens individually and forces them to play deadly versions of classic board games. Utilizing some extravagant set pieces that clearly took some time to establish, it seems as if Bitch Ass knew he would soon have company in his house. As Q digs deeper into the mystery of Bitch Ass, the bodies begin to pile up around him.
Through flashbacks to 1980, the full story of Bitch Ass aka Cecil becomes revealed. A slightly shy and awkward teen obsessed with games, Cecil is forced to live with his abusive and religiously oppressive grandmother after his parents die. A prime target for local bully Spade, things only worsen for Cecil when Spade’s girlfriend (and Q’s mom) Marsia (Me’lisa Sellers) shows Cecil some much-needed kindness. Brutally attacking Cecil, Spade and his crew permanently disfigure Cecil’s face and officially bestow the nickname Bitch Ass upon him.
As one might imagine, the past trauma of Bitch Ass fuels his fury and focused attack on this younger generation of teens breaking into his house. Unfolding like a mix of Clue and a small scale Saw, literal titles pop up in the rooms letting audiences in on where the kids are located. Animated playing cards with the kid’s faces get X’d out after they fail the impossible games Bitch Ass forces them to play. And while the premise of the narrative itself is fun and sound, it is the way in which this particular story plays out that sends BITCH ASS straight to jail without collecting $200 dollars.
Displayed in a mind-boggling aspect ratio that defies all creative reason, BITCH ASS gets caught up in its own web of curious stylistic choices. Fancy editing techniques and dramatic lighting abound while centering around sets, action sequences, and production design that is too polished, too staged to feel real or dangerous. Even the games themselves that Bitch Ass subjects his victims to feel like Jigsaw Lite or Universal Studio’s Halloween Horror Nights sponsored by Parker Brothers. It’s a gimmick that flirts with camp without ever fully committing and subsequently falls into the category of, “meh.” Not a great place to be when trying to establish a franchise.
Further diminishing the film’s impact is the talent and writing itself. With the majority of the performances existing in the realm between mediocre and fine, the emotional stakes never hit the necessary levels to properly engage. Even Bitch Ass himself, though physically intimidating and styled to perfection, fails to properly instill the fear needed for a future horror icon. With his mission so limited to Spade and his gang, the opportunity for villain growth and social commentary is never maximized. All that said, extra points deserve to be awarded to both Teon Kelley and Me’lisa Sellers who deliver stand-out performances as mother and son. Together the pair displays a touching level of realism and authenticity that injects a desperately needed dose of heart into the film.
Despite bleeding passion out of every pore, BITCH ASS gets bogged down by its own aspirations. Focusing too heavily on stylistic filmmaking choices and nailing the right genre beats, the film fails to emphasize the things that it does best. With a little more work, the dialogue could easily feel more realistic, the characters and narrative impact more fleshed out. Perhaps even with a little more money and time, the clever gameplay angle could reach new levels of menace and grit. The idea nuggets contained within are truly solid, but I’d argue that Dallas Jackson’s 2018 slasher Thriller does them better. The world is ready and needs a new Black horror franchise, but sadly, this isn’t it.
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