Representation has always been an important component of cinema, and over time we have seen instances where they have been concerted efforts to elevate the voices of those that come from marginalized communities, or at least those that have not always fit into the common trends of the film industry – and in particular, we are discussing black cinema, which has been notoriously under-represented for most of Hollywood’s history, only starting to develop and come into its own over the last few decades, which is a direct impact of more people of colour being placed at the helm of bigger films, or being given the chance to have their stories told in their own words, rather than being appropriated by others and then subsequently mangled for the sake of meeting particular standards or conventions. If we go back half a century, we see many vitally important black filmmakers emerging, usually being nurtured by the world of independent film, which has always been a notable champion for diverse voices. However, this was not always the case, and looking at African-American filmmakers from before the 1950s brings up a worryingly small number of names. However, they did exist and some of them were doing absolutely staggering work – the most prominent names obviously being Oscar Micheaux and Tressie Souders, who have always been seen has the filmmakers that set the standard for black-directed cinema in the earliest days of the American film industry, challenging conventions and crossing boundaries that were not only difficult to get over, but often seen as entirely insurmountable, especially considering they were working decades before the outset of the Civil Rights Movement. While this preamble may seem lengthy, it is important to situate ourselves at a particular temporal moment in order to discuss The Blood of Jesus, one of the most singularly important works in the history of cinema, and a film that can easily be described as nothing less than a socially-conscious masterpiece, and a film that should be mandatory viewing for anyone with an interest in the history of not only cinema, but American culture as a whole.

While most of the historical attention has been centred on those directors mentioned above, there is another name has emerged from obscurity in recent years, coming to match Micheaux and Souders as a master of early African-American cinema – and it came from the most unexpected source imaginable. Spencer Williams Jr. is mostly known for being one half of the titular Amos ‘n’ Andy comedy duo, cast in the role after the extremely smart decision was made to place black actors in the roles, rather than having  Freeman Gosden and Charles Correll reprise their roles from the radio series, which was already one of the most hackneyed, stereotype-laden shows in the history of American broadcasting (and which the television adaptation didn’t do too much to rectify either, despite the presence of actors that were actually fitting for the roles). Williams was a smart artist, and it is interesting to note that his best work was actually done behind the camera, with The Blood of Jesus being one of the most inventive, compelling directorial efforts of the 1940s. It was not his debut (he had directed a short film a few years earlier), but it was the first time he was given the chance to make a feature-length film, which came after a few screenwriting endeavours where he worked with directors like Richard C. Kahn (who was one of the first white filmmakers to utilize all-black casts at a time when it was seen as unfavourable to use African-Americans as anything more than servants or secondary figures in white films) to tell stories that may not be entirely earnest or realistic in their depiction of African-Americans, but at least had someone onboard that could at least offer some guidance to prevent an entirely myopic perspective. The Blood of Jesus is his reward for these years of hard work, and it was certainly worth it, since what he was doing with this film is absolutely extraordinary, and deserves as much attention as it possibly can receive, especially since it was considered lost for decades before miraculously being found years ago.

The Blood of Jesus is a vivid, complex morality tale that is as staggering today as it was in 1941, when audiences were undoubtedly entranced by the images they were seeing on screen. Undeniably, this was a film made for a very specific audience, and it was mainly consumed by those within a particular demographic – it took decades (and a laborious search for an existing print to be found) for it to reach a wider set of viewers, where it was almost instantaneously branded as a classic, and it is not difficult to understand precisely why it is seen as an immense masterpiece. Whether narratively, thematically or visually, Williams was doing something in The Blood of Jesus that felt nothing less than revolutionary. Like his predecessors, he set out to make a film that described his experiences as a black American living in a country where his very existence is seen as a rebellion against the puritanical, conservative values that saw black lives as not only expendable, but worth far less than those who constituted the majority. Going against this very belief, the director made a film that centres squarely on the concept of life and death as an African-American, exploring the culture and beliefs followed by a large portion of the population, and weaving in elements of religious drama and fantasy, at a time when even white-oriented cinema was not daring enough to tackle such stories. Considering how The Blood of Jesus was produced at a time when film censorship was notoriously at its peak, so to explore themes of atheism, or to tell a story that centres on the moral uncertainty between heaven and hell, is immediately courting controversy – and while its likely this film was immune to this purely because it was likely not even noticed by these censors, it is absolutely extraordinary that it managed to be produced under what appears to be the director’s original vision, which allows Williams to explore these intersecting themes in a way that is complex and vibrant, rather than settling for implication and inference, a common practice of early morality tales.

One of the most captivating aspects of early independent cinema is seeing how creative these filmmakers could be with their smaller budgets, since we often find that the fewer resources available to a director and their crew, the more interesting the approach is going to be, since these are all ultimately people with a strong artistic vision, and see the smaller budget as an opportunity to try new avenues of storytelling. There are several moments in The Blood of Jesus where Williams is actively evoking images that are there to satisfy a particular narrative requirement, but turn out to be amongst the most memorable of its era – every choice, from the cinematography to the costume design, is made with economic awareness, but also a kind of covert creativity that makes the film so compelling. This is not a story that needed to be excessive or filled with extravagance – instead, it’s the kind of carefully-curated story that feels genuine in both the narrative details and its execution. The sequences set in the state of limbo after the main character approaches death are some of the most hauntingly beautiful of the period, and the director makes sure that they are reflecting the same social and cultural commentary as the rest of the film, with his depiction of the lives of these God-fearing citizens in their small town somewhere in the South being incredibly bleak, but also beautiful in its simplicity. Williams had a terrific eye for detail, and the dreamlike imagery present throughout the film, when coupled with the very stark social issues that pulsate throughout the film, make The Blood of Jesus an extraordinary piece of cinema that carries a depth that most films could rarely hope to achieve.

Speaking about any race film produced in the earlier days of Hollywood is often quite difficult, as is trying to discuss the filmmakers, actors and other individuals that were often behind these productions. Primarily, an enormous amount of them are lost or forgotten, with only a fraction surviving in the public consciousness, which are mainly those that made an enormous impact outside of the demographic – much like society viewed the people, black stories were not seen as valuable in the eyes of the industry for decades, until we finally started to see change occurring, both socially and artistically. It’s hardly surprising that this came about at roughly the same time as the Civil Rights Movement, which saw black art thrust into the spotlight, viewed as something that should not only be seen or heard, but also actively celebrated, since there was a level of originality, subversion and brilliance in these works that was missing from the mainstream. A film like The Blood of Jesus is so utterly invigorating, not only for what it represents, but the form it takes. In all regards, this should not be a film that is nearly as successful as it was – it runs at less than an hour, was made on a shoestring budget with non-professional actors, and filmed without many resources that were afforded to those in the mainstream. Yet, you are unlikely to find a more poignant, compelling film that simmers with cultural relevance from this era if you tried, and even if you did encounter something similar, it is doubtful that it would have even a fraction of the resonance or authenticity with which Williams and his collaborators constructed this film. The Blood of Jesus is a film handcrafted by a small group of artists that exist in total service of not only the form, but the very nature of artistic expression as a whole – raw, harrowing and deeply upsetting, but also transcendent and detailed, this film is an extraordinary achievement, and one of the most compelling films of its era, and should be reassessed as a work of historical importance.