Lovecraft Country Masterfully Blends Horror and History

“The evil that men do lives after them.”

That well-known line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar could serve as the underlying theme and overarching message of Lovecraft Country, the brilliant new series on HBO. The evil here originates from two sources: the horrific mythology of H. P. Lovecraft’s works and the historic—and, tragically, contemporary—truths of America’s passive intolerance and violent racism. It’s this virtuosic blend of malicious monsters and monstrous men that makes Lovecraft Country a phenomenal program that executes every aspect of televised storytelling with otherworldly precision.

Jonathan Majors (Da 5 Bloods), Courtney B. Vance (The People v. O. J. Simpson), and Jurnee Smollett (Birds of Prey) star as Atticus, George, and Leti, three black Chicagoans in the early 1950s who embark on a cross-country trek in search of Atticus’s missing father. Along the way they have dreadful, harrowing, terrifying, and nightmarish encounters—and then, later, they have to deal with literal monsters.

The juxtaposition of real-world monstrosities and supernatural ones during the first two-thirds of the premiere episode is so nuanced and realistic that by the time we actually get to the nonhuman creatures, it’s almost a relief. Monsters are a conspicuous threat, which makes them straightforward to neutralize; you can’t punch, shoot, or run from racism. In order to avoid spoilers, I won’t get into too much more about the narrative arc of the episodes that have been released so far, but what I can do is go into detail about the incredible historical accuracy of the production. Not just in terms of clothing, props, vehicles, and language, but also in the nuanced approach to the characterizations.

Black history is American history. They are more than intertwined—they are synonymous and mutualistic. However, the teaching of both histories, and particularly the media depictions of those histories, is woefully incomplete. America of the 1950s is largely viewed as The Andy Griffith Show, I Love Lucy, and The Honeymooners. It’s bobby socks and poodle skirts, drag-racing greasers and street-corner doo-wop singers. It’s James Dean on the big screen, Marilyn Monroe pinups on the walls, and “I Like Ike” pins on suit-jacket lapels. Sure, those with a more comprehensive knowledge of US civil rights may know that the Brown v. Board of Education decision was made in 1954, that Emmett Till was kidnapped and lynched in 1955, and that the Montgomery bus boycott began in December of that same year. But the ephemeral moments of Black and other nonwhite American residents in the ’50s is largely absent from the pop-cultural consciousness.

Jonathan Majors and Courtney B. Vance, Photograph by Elizabeth Morris/HBO

In the few episodes released so far, Lovecraft Country breaks that trend. The series boldly, beautifully, and brilliantly brings to life the nuanced distinctions and subtle similarities of BIPOC life in the mid-20th century while avoiding the lazy tropes and lack of depth that often accompany portrayals of Blackness. There are no Magical Negros or Jezebels. No singular origin stories or monochromatic skin tones. Instead we’re given a wide spectrum of artists and thinkers, drifters and drinkers, avid readers and antagonistic musicians, southern slang and northern vernacular. We get relationships ranging from platonic to romantic, familial to sororal, parents to mentors, predator to prey. Even in the depictions of the hateful intolerance and outright racism, we get more than the generic backwoods bigot stereotype. Blatant prejudice and assaults are definitely on display, but we’re also given microaggressive stares, juvenile mockery, and silent complicity.

The realism of the real-life historical elements cannot be overstated. HBO has a proven track record of detail-rich productions: The Wire, The Sopranos, and even wholly fictional environments like Game of Thrones pack every second of screen time with meticulously crafted set design, props, and wardrobe pieces. The strict adherence to period accuracy in Lovecraft Country, such as the Aunt Jemima billboard in the background of a gas station or the casual way in which the trio of protagonists wait to order their frozen treats at the “For Coloreds” window of a walk-up ice cream parlor, fully immerses the viewer in the world and offers an embedded history lesson that feels like a slice-of-life reenactment. And when the dialogue explicitly calls out historical elements, they’re executed seamlessly into the natural interactions of the characters.

By grounding the typical story elements in stark, unflinching realism, the show makes the supernatural occurrences pop even more, forcing the audience to genuinely question which monsters would be more panic-inducing. Being trapped in a cabin surrounded by bloodthirsty beasts is unpleasant, sure, but is it worse than finding yourself alone in the woods after dark in sundown country, surrounded by gun-toting bigots with badges?

Journee Smollett (center) in Lovecraft Country. Photograph by Eli Joshua Ade/HBO

And then, of course, there’s the 130-year-old racist elephant in the room. H. P. Lovecraft is an iconic figure in the history of horror, but at the same time, he was an extremely problematic person with abhorrent views, as fellow Twin Cities Geek contributor Bryan Thao Worra has written about in detail. Art is not, nor can it be, made in a vacuum, so it’s not possible to truly, fully separate the creation from the creator. But by unabashedly acknowledging the latter and magnificently exploring and expanding on the former, Lovecraft Country recognizes the author’s undeniably influential literary contributions, using them to fuel contemporary narratives, and at the same time openly and honestly highlighting the reprehensible viewpoints and attitudes he held, adding a layer of thematic poignancy to an already multifaceted and compelling program.

While it doesn’t specifically call out the actions and incidents of our current tumultuous times (because it’s set in the ’50s and, and y’know, has literal monsters), Lovecraft Country does a phenomenal job of speaking to the underlying ideology and inherent malice of the hateful elements of modern-day America than many other programs. A lot of shows have attempted to address the current state of race and racism in the United States, to varying degrees of success, but most often in weak or hamfisted ways. It’s somewhat ironic that it’s a period piece imbued with elements from the work of a notorious bigot that offers the most meaningful—and engagingly entertaining—insights to date.