Questioning Tropes: Looking at the 'Magical Negro' in The Green Mile

I think most people have at some point watched Frank Darabont’s film adaptation of Stephen King's The Green Mile (TGM), one of many successful films to come from the Nineties. If you study film or film theory, no doubt it will be discussed at some point and, more likely than not, this discussion will be guided by the framework of race in cinema. For example, the character of John Coffey is brought up time and time again as an example of the classic ‘Magical Negro’ stereotype, but recently (and I have to give some recognition to my brother who started this thought in my head), I’m not sure that this character is as cut and dried as I previously thought.

I think it is important to look at the historical cinematic representation of race and also to look at the writing of some of the experts on the subject. Many theorists, including Bogle, Glenn, Smith and McGraw, believe that the stereotypes we see in cinema stem from racist structures in American society. Such stereotypes came from times of slavery and began being depicted in the arts. Such writers also see a connection with location as such representations are most prevalent in American states with a long racist history, such as those in the South.

Most theorists note the ‘Magical Negro’ as being the most common stereotype. With their Black folklore and assumed wisdom, such characters tend to have no individuality outside of their wisdom or gifts. Bogle notes that these stereotypes used to be displayed shamelessly. Films like Birth of a Nation proudly displayed racist notions and stereotypes without hesitation. Bogle also claims that such stereotypes have not gone away, but rather have merely trickled down and been altered to become more subtle.

Such writers note, too, that Hollywood in the 80s and 90s, most likely due to its history, didn’t want to address race head-on, so themes of race were softened and made less serious using the ‘buddy formula’. We are used to seeing this all across Hollywood. Driving Miss Daisy is used as a frequent example of a film that is kind of about race. Still, any seriousness is detracted by the wholesome friendship at the core of the film that, in reality, probably wouldn’t have existed.

Other filmmakers also weigh in on the topic. Spike Lee believes that the ‘Magical Negro’ never does anything for themselves and questions why they do not help themselves instead of the others that they do, which are mostly white people. Some writers see the perpetuation of such stereotypes as due to most Hollywood writers being white historically and simply not having had enough interaction with Black people. Therefore, they couldn’t write accurately about Black people and went back to old tropes. Bogle suggests that,

“beneath various guises, there lurked the familiar types” (14).

Smith uses his Colorblind and Colorconscious theory, and most accurately points out the differences between films that address race and those that mask its seriousness. Colorconscious films point out the ways that divisions caused by race are a part of everyday life for Black people. In contrast, whereas Colorblind films may have some racial themes, their seriousness is trivialised by techniques such as the ‘buddy formula’. In doing so, the divisions between the two friends caused by race are trivialised. Importantly, what Smith also points out is that typical Colorblind structures hijack many Colorconscious films.

I would have agreed with all of these writings in the past and I used most of them for my own thesis, which was about racial representations and their lack of change in Hollywood film, but now I may have to challenge my own work. As noted earlier, the character of John Coffey is by far the most common example used when discussing the ‘Magical Negro’ archetype. I’m not now saying that his character is not in some form a diluted stereotype, but I think there are contradictions in his character. With such contradictions and other elements, I think TGM addresses race and prejudice more than originally thought and it is not just a ‘buddy film’.

Firstly, what I think makes this film and its character different is that it shows differences that exist due to race. Paul and John certainly become friends as the film progresses. Yes, this friendship blooms after John helps Paul, but it was not as though Paul treated him any different to any of the other inmates on the mile. Each were treated in the same manner by Paul. However, despite this friendship, they are, and remain, separated.

John is called racial slurs throughout the film, even by other inmates, showing that even though they have all committed crimes punishable by death, some white inmates still think that they are better than a Black inmate. Wild Bill even comments that there should be a whites-only electric chair. There is a scene where the guards and John are walking through the woods and there is a shot of all the men's shoes and John’s bare feet stepping on twigs and whatnot. Nobody thought to go get their ‘buddy’ some shoes. These may be small and subtle, but they are still differences. If anything, this film is one long realisation for Paul that the differences between him and his buddy John are too great. Although in Paul’s head the solution seems easy, the other characters remind him that it is not.

Given that the film is set in the South, which, as I mention, has a chequered racist past, to say the least; it can be assumed that people there have racist tendencies and very much see a difference between themselves and Black people. Bogle claims films set in the South, such as Mississippi Burning, capitalise on the violence shown towards Black people, but in TGM, of all the characters, John probably has the least violent or graphic death. In fact, it is some of the white characters who suffer most. TGM features differences to films considered to be similar to it.

Coming back to my main point about the ‘Magical Negro’ trope, yes, John has magical powers, but unlike other well-known characters, such gifts are not down to the wiseness of his folklore, but rather down to the fact that he is more like a supernatural entity or angel. His embodiment as a Black man comments on race relations, how people struggle to look past appearances and simply see people as the people they are. I don’t think his friendship with Paul and the other guards trivialises or detracts from this.

The classic argument is that the ‘Magical Negro’ has all the power and yet doesn’t help themselves. However, Paul has power. I mean, all anyone ever calls him throughout the film is ‘Boss’. Paul can make a lot of things happen. Maybe Paul could have done more for John, but he offers to help him and John refuses. Is John's decision to die not helping himself? Clearly, John can make people do as he wishes by simply touching them, but he chooses to die. He says he is tired and wants to be free of pain. He could continue to live and help white people, but chooses not to and refuses help from his white ‘buddy’. Maybe Paul could have done more and maybe John gave him an easy way out; maybe John saying that he wants to die is a convenient solution to the whole film. To me, though, it certainly feels that his final decision was his own.

John also doesn’t just help white people; he punishes them too. Paul uses one white guard to punish another white inmate. He does not just exclusively help his white friends. He carries out justice. Do John's powers not make him the most individual character? He knows more than anyone else there. He can see the bigger picture. Does this not contradict the notion that the ‘Magical Negro’ has no personality or individuality? Every character has their quirks that make them who they are, including John.

The main point that got me started on all of this was the suggestion that only the white characters are helped, but has Paul actually been "helped"? While John sees his death as freeing, Paul must live on for who knows how long. He must witness the death of everyone he loves. He walks alone in the world with little-to-no end in sight. Paul says John didn’t know this would happen to him, but it certainly seems like a punishment.

TGM is actually very self-aware. In fact, in one scene, it unintentionally breaks down the ‘Uncle Tom’ stereotype. Using the analogy of a dog, the film perfectly defines the trope: you think it is loyal to you, it loves you, it will never leave you; but it can still turn around and bite you. A dog is a dog. This scene is used to describe a murderer, but, at its core, it's a stereotype. It is subtle scenes like this that lead me to believe that TGM is more than we give it credit for.

For me, TGM has more to it than I originally gave it credit for. When you study film and are constantly fed the same examples, you just take what’s written and said about them as gospel. This post has reminded me to constantly revisit films and challenge them even if they are classic examples of well-established theories. This may lead you to challenge and question your own work, and I don’t think anything bad can come of that.

Bogle, Donald. Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, and Bucks. New York: Bloomsbury, 2016

Glenn, Cerise L, and Landra J Cunningham. “The Power of Black Magic: The Magical Negro and White Salvation in Film.” Journal of Black Studies, vol. 40, no. 2, 2009, pp. 135–152.

Mcgraw, Erl. “Driving Miss Daisy - Southern Jewishness on the Big Screen (American South, Film).” Southern Cultures, vol. 7, no. 2, 2001, pp. 41–59.

Smith, Jason. “Between Colorblind and Colorconscious: Contemporary Hollywood Films and Struggles Over Racial Representation.” Journal of Black Studies, vol. 44, no. 8, 2013, pp. 779–797.