“I’ve been on this Earth for 27 years, and I just realized I deserve to be alive.”
This line comes late in The American Society of Magical Negroes, and, as likely intended, it’s a heartstopping moment. Whatever your level of social consciousness, hearing such a devastating sentiment spoken with manic clarity is nonetheless staggering. That line, and Justice Smith’s emphatic delivery, crystallizes part of the complex Black American experience, where one’s personhood is theoretical and abstract, not immutable.
As powerful as that moment is, it takes some time and a lengthy narrative path to get there.

Magical Negroes follows the initiation of struggling artist Aren (Smith) into a magical society that has secretly steered race relations for decades. It does that through the thoughtful deployment of the “magical negro” trope, where a Black person’s sole existence is to support a white person. The society’s goal is to provide every white person with a magical negro to keep white people cool, calm, and collected, lest they take out their guilt and grievance on everyone else, especially Black people. Aren is initially skeptical, but he ultimately joins the society and sets off on his first assignment with Roger (David Alan Grier) as his mentor. He is paired with Jason (Drew Tarver), an obnoxious tech bro who knows his way around a thoughtless comment. Aren’s mission to support Jason is complicated when he falls for Jason’s crush and their superior, Lizzie (An-Li Bogan).
And so, duty to the greater good comes in conflict with personal desire. Magical Negroes’ chief conceit is that the members aren’t allowed to put themselves before their white assignments. If they do, every member loses their magical powers and their ability to protect themselves and the broader world from white people’s worst impulses. The execution of this allegory, and the entire society, doesn’t entirely hold against scrutiny. The existence of the American Society invites uncomfortable questions about the organization’s effectiveness. For instance, the film presents historical examples of their society’s work but ignores more painful conflicts like the civil rights movement and modern police violence. You could argue that the organization is best equipped for smaller-scale issues, but the film implicitly suggests that they will eventually create larger, world-spanning incidents. In other words, where was the magical negro covering Derek Chauvin, George Zimmerman or James Earl Ray?

Even if you put those questions to the side, Magical Negroes’ strikes at satirical fantasy only occasionally hit the mark. The concept is novel, and how filmmaker Kobi Libii introduces it with visual and audial callbacks to landmark fantasy staples like Harry Potter is pretty clever. The organization is also quite funny, with plenty of jokes and sight gags that earn their laughs, especially with the gut-bustlingly funny Alan Grier and the ethereal Nicole Byer involved in them. However, the premise starts to wear out its welcome, especially once the rom-com narrative begins in earnest. The organization’s exploits distract from the more compelling discussions happening on the other side of the film. (The one exception is a standout conversation between Aren and Roger about their work and sacrifices, a bonding moment their dynamic needed more of.)
Magical Negroes is more successful in exploring the compromises of American Blackness through its central love triangle. In truth, it isn’t much of a triangle; Aren and Lizzie are better suited from their first meet-cute in a coffee shop. Meanwhile, Jason appears delusional about his chances with her when they share very little in common, including chemistry. However, their awkward interactions foster meaningful conversations about technology’s inherent biases, tokenism, and diversity in the workplace. Necessary as they are, Libii doesn’t keep them from being humorous. One excellent gag has Aren and Jason wearing virtual reality headsets and Aren nearly falling down the stairs as he tries to explain privilege to him. (He’s figuratively talking himself off a cliff.) Silly as it and others are, it doesn’t detract from the impact of the message.

With Lizzie, Aren is eye-openingly candid about his place in the world and how fraught it feels because of its proximity and reliance on whiteness. Their honest discussions and banter add warmth and weight to their fledging romance and Aren’s growing internal conflict. Justice Smith handles the complicated balance well. The film initially presents him as awkward and off-putting, but Smith’s unassuming but palpable charm soon takes over, especially when positioned against the lovely Bogan. He’s equally good at reconciling Aren’s painful realizations about race in his life. Smith conveys the paralyzing frustration of diminishing oneself to survive with righteous, exasperated fury.
The guiding sentiment of The American Society of Magical Negroes is a powerful one. The film’s premise, amusing as it can be, buries its most compelling takeaway while inviting difficult questions it isn’t prepared to answer. It might seem unfair to place the burden of centuries of American racial conflict on the back of a satirical fantasy-rom-com hybrid. However, in such a fraught period of popular culture, we should ask our commentary to be equally ambitious and sharp, lest it be misconstrued and weaponized. Anyone doubting the likelihood of that occurring need only look as far as this piece’s opening quote to see how wrong they are.
The American Society of Magical Negroes will debut exclusively in theaters on March 15, 2024, courtesy of Focus Features.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gizIbhk5Eu4]
The guiding sentiment of The American Society of Magical Negroes is a powerful one. The film’s premise, amusing as it can be, buries its most compelling takeaway while inviting difficult questions it isn’t prepared to answer.
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GVN Rating 6
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A late-stage millennial lover of most things related to pop culture. Becomes irrationally irritated by Oscar predictions that don’t come true.