The Letterboxd-ification of the movie world means there’s been a boom in self-described cinephiles. You know, the kind of guy who refers to new arthouse films by the surname of the director and loves to tell you he’s seen everything by David Fincher or Martin Scorsese. It’s a net positive for the film world, but the blind spots remain more jarring than ever, with attention still centered on the few. In these spaces, it’s the work of Black women that often goes ignored, but a new season at London’s BFI Southbank, Black Debutantes, makes it easier than ever to engage with the seminal work they’ve made.
It’s the season’s curator Rógan Graham (a longtime i-D contributor, we’re proud to say, and the legend behind Divas Do Film, known for programming Mariah Carey’s derided and iconic Glitter in the hallowed halls of arthouse cinemas) who you can thank for expanding your cinematic horizons. Over a year ago, she sat down with an industry colleague and considered why these films, ones that felt so important to the fabric of cinema, were impossible to see on the big screen in Britain anymore. So she got to work, crafting a program that offers a non-exhaustive but eye-opening look at films even the most obsessive cinephiles have likely never seen.
Starting now, both at BFI Southbank and, from May 5, on BFI Player, viewers can dive into them. We asked Graham about the series’ holy grail, her advice for breaking into the industry, and exactly who she wants showing up to Black Debutantes.
Douglas Greenwood: Black Debutantes was born from a frustration of not being able to see many of these films, from such seminal but often under appreciated directions, in the UK. But you’ve called the season a “celebration.” Why that reframing?
Rógan Graham: In the simplest way, it’s the fact that the season exists. And I don’t mean for me, I mean for audiences and filmmakers. It’s a positive thing that people can now engage with this work.
What frustrates me in the exhibition space is that films made by marginalized identities are given the “one off special event.” I wanted to challenge that. This is in one venue, but it’s a month of screenings and you have the opportunity to follow that curiosity.
I’ve been conscious to not frame these filmmakers’ stories as tragic. There is tragedy when racism and sexism, misogynoir, homophobia, whatever it may be, prohibits anyone’s life. Misogynoir is a factor in many of these women only making one work, or not having much acclaim. As much as I can be angry at that, it’s not my job to frame their lives as some kind of failing. Those who are still alive might be frustrated, but they’re working, living, breathing. Maybe not getting funding, but they’re not gone. That’s their thing to say. I didn’t want to belittle their careers by asking, “Where did they go?”
Did you have a “holy grail” film for this program—something you fought hard to find?
There isn’t a film we couldn’t get, but there are a lot of films that aren’t in the season that feel like they should be. When I first started discussing the idea of the season, somebody listed off what they felt would be in there based on the title of the season. Actually, none of that is in there, probably because they were so easily guessing it.
My holy grail was Jessie Maple’s Will, which is a film that we almost didn’t get. She died in May 2023, and that was the first time I heard her name. She was the first African American woman to write, direct and produce her own independent feature. She was the first Black woman to join the camera operators union. She sued TV studios for discrimination. She was a pioneer, a union woman, and a worker in the industry.
It’s a real shame it took her passing for her work to be restored, but the fact that it is, and we get to premiere it, is amazing. I have to thank Ashley Clarke at Criterion because he put in a good word with me at the estate, because they’re protective of her work.
You write about cinema, and have a history of programming. It’s such a tough industry to make sense of, and survive in. Do you have advice for people interested in taking part in it themselves?
I’ve had a very interesting career path. I don’t like the term ‘jack of all trades’ because I don’t think I’m a master of none. To survive, you need either multiple skill sets or a rich family. And I don’t have a rich family. I’m not an archivist, I’m not a researcher. I have no institutional backing. Yes, this season is at the BFI, but I’m still a freelancer.
My advice for people taking part in the industry is this: any skill you have, don’t be ashamed to use it. It doesn’t mean you’re not dedicated because you don’t have as much time as a friend who has their life funded by their family. That doesn’t mean they’re more dedicated, it just means they’ve been handed more resources. When you have to generate that yourself, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.
If you can do marketing, my day job, or work in a cafe or book shop, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s my advice for working class people. It’s hard and you have to hustle, but I’m proud to be able to say that anything I’ve done I’ve done myself.
“I’m so drawn to divas and Black women directors because I want to see how women like me think about the world and how they choose to position themselves within it”
Rógan graham
I love your Divas Do Film screenings. Is there a film that overlaps that side of your work with what you’ve made with Black Debutantes?
I’m interested in the way pop divas choose to present themselves publicly, or the narratives they choose to push, either through the roles they choose in films or the documentaries or music videos they direct. Basically how they’re in conversation with their own image. There isn’t one film that overlaps with Black Debutantes, but there is a good relationship between Black women and the camera and documentation that arises in a few.
Drylongso is a coming of age film, and the protagonist takes a camera to document the Black men in her community because she’s growing up in such violence in south central LA in the ’90s, because she thinks Black men are going to go extinct. Then there’s Losing Ground, Kathleen Collins’ film, in which the protagonist rediscovers herself and her sensuality when she finds herself in front of a camera acting in a student project. Naked Act is maybe the best example, though, about a young woman who’s lost a lot of weight who wants to become an actress. Her mother was a Blaxploitation actress, and she tells herself she wants to be a real actress instead. Then an indie film role comes along that involves nudity. It’s about her relationship to her body and her family trauma and her mother and her relationship to the camera.
The reason I’m so drawn to divas and Black women directors is because I want to see how women like me––a Black woman and a diva!––think about the world and how they choose to position themselves within it, and who that positioning is for. The consciousness of the self on camera. Not that these films are all biographical, they don’t have to be. Women and Black women don’t have to make films about their own lives. But that’s where that overlap lies.
Who would you most like to come out and support the season?
Everyone, honestly, So far the season has been embraced by Black women and the directors I’m in touch with seem really happy.
I also want to see cinephiles as a collective, self-identified or not. The ones who claim to know more than the average person about film. And then you throw the names Bridgett M. Davis (writer of Naked Acts), Kathleen Collins (Losing Ground), or Ngozi Onwurah (Welcome II the Terrordome), and suddenly it’s a bit quiet. It’s like, are you a cinephile or not?
This season came from asking questions and seeing where that leads to. I want people to see one film and then think, ‘Oh, what’s this?’. If you haven’t heard of something it doesn’t mean it’s not for you, it just means you haven’t heard of it yet. I want everyone to embrace it, but for cinephiles to meaningfully engage with the work of Black women. I’ve made it easy for them to do so, I think.