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Kevin Costner is reaching for the White Guilt crown in his latest role as a widower in Black or White, in which grieving protagonist Elliot Anderson fights to retain custody of his black granddaughter, Eloise. In what promises to be an illuminating tale of cross-generational tensions between the races, Costner, like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, is about to give the White Guilt Performance of a Lifetime; that's based on the trailer alone. Black or White releases nationwide today.
As proven by just the past decade of film criticism and Academy Award tallies, white guilt cinema is an immensely profitable genre, especially when said genre includes sainted characterizations of said white transgressors. While it's mostly white filmmakers and actors who've mastered white guilt as a formula for atrocious cinema, white guilt is in fact an equal opportunity exercise in filmmaking; even John Ridley can do it! Paul Haggis' Crash, a highwater mark of this wack-ass genre, is a rainbow cast of the lowest caliber, which succeeded in earning the most successfully awful film in recent memory three Academy Awards in 2006, including Best Picture.
For the love of privilege, angst, and corny performances, here's the 10 guiltiest films ever made by and about white guilt. Mr. Costner, you've got a vast and daunting tradition head of you. I wish you all the luck and #privilege in the world.
Driving Miss Daisy (1989)
Directed by: Bruce Beresford
That Morgan Freeman sure does love putting in work for the Guilt genre, doesn't he? Across the veteran's long and storied career, he's appealed to the White Man's Guilt (whether in execution or in eliciting audience response) in films like Glory, Amistad, Lean on Me, Million Dollar Baby...the list goes on. But his trademark moment, transcending the narrative of his own filmography and going onto score Best Picture, is of course, Driving Miss Daisy. It's the leader of the pack in the Oscar voter's version of feel-good movie of awards szn, you know, the type where a kind-hearted albeit stubborn rich white person gets a lesson in race relations via an uneducated yet somehow still worthwhile black man. What's more, Daisy can totally relate to the black man's plight, because she's Jewish, or something! That's one cute friendship between olds, one big step for race relations. —Frazier Tharpe
White Man's Burden (1995)
Directed by: Desmond Nakano
Lmao, what the fuck kind of rejected Twilight Zone script is this? The idea of basing an entire movie around the gimmick of a complete socio-economic role-reversal between Caucasians and African-Americans is as tantalizing as it it is insanely tricky. It has to be executed in such a way that it transcends just being a gimmick that allows for nifty, visual set pieces and exchanges that flip viewer expectations on a binary basis, and ultimately make a larger, worthwhile social commentary. It cannot coast on said visual morsels that reverse the kinds of faces and hues you'd see at say, a fundraising event, then devolve into a severely rote D-list kidnapping thriller. Points for trying. Points for enlisting a theoretically objective person to helm in Japanese-American director Desmond Nakano. But phew, what a brick. But on the plus side, this shitty poster probably inspired what would become a much better, dare I say classic, Travolta thriller a couple years later, so there's that. —Frazier Tharpe
Dangerous Minds (1995)
Directed by: John N. Smith
The 20th century's definitive White Guilt Film, in which Michelle Pfeiffer plays a retired Marine who becomes a California high school English teacher, only to discover that ghetto kids are rowdy and uncooperative under the watch of an insecure guardian—like all kids, really. Pfeiffer's ruthless hipness and Coolio's inclusion on the film's soundtrack turned this minor Hollywood Pictures project into the talk of the water cooler, which is a turn-of-phrase that people still used in 1995, so long ago. The Wire's Mr. Pryzbylewski is but a carbon copy of LouAnne Johnson, trillest O.G. —Justin Charity
The Green Mile (1999)
Directed by: Frank Darabont
A story of guilt in the nagging, eternal sense, The Green Mile is a retired prison guard's flashback account of the miraculous life and death of John Coffey, a magical black man falsely convicted of rape and sentenced to death. True to trope, Coffey salves a groin and mends a few hearts before the state of Tennessee so kindly rewards him with electrocution, 1930s-style, graphically depicted. (I cry every time.) Played by Tom Hanks, Paul Edgecomb, the witness of John Coffey's good works, is cursed by Coffey's healing power to a hermit's solitude in which he outlives his own adult daughter. Admittedly, The Green Mile is a dead trope walking and yet, snark aside, a heartfelt, compelling film. —Justin Charity
Bulworth (1999)
Directed by: Warren Beatty
Finally, a major film about white guilt that is rather about taking the piss out of the very notion. Warren Beatty stars as Sen. Jay Bulworth (D-Calif.), a goofy, exhausted, post-impeachment parody of Pres. Clinton. Hood siren Nina, played by Halle Berry, trails the senator and eventually steers him variously to and from harm's way, as Bulworth ditches the campaign trail and freestyles a mid-life crisis. Bulworth is a twisted campaign tale of radical monologues and hamming it up for mortified C-SPAN anchors. All it's missing is a primetime debate stage cypher a la Chris Rock's Head of State. Otherwise Bulworth, like many other third-party candidates, is a work of heart and worthwhile values but a deficit of direction and practical purpose. Presumably, Warren Beatty's foremost priority as Bulworth's director was atonement for his earlier participation in Ishtar. —Justin Charity
Bring It On (2000)
Directed by: Peyton Reed
It's not just another teen movie. Who knew the politics and rivalries of high school cheerleading could carry such a strong, racially charged, economic inequality spotlighting undercurrent? Our heroine is the blond, perky Torrance Shipman (Kirsten Dunst) and yes, the antagonists are the black cheer squad from the Other Side of Town™, but they've been cheated so wrongfully, their antagonism so justified, that by the time we've reached the film's showdown at Nationals, it's impossible to pick a side. See, Torrance has just assumed captainship of her group, longtime defending champs, over at Trust Fund High, only to learn that the winning moves her squad's been performing are not their own. Her predecessor routinely, blatantly stole them from Hood High, where the girls don't have enough school funds to even make it to Nationals.
Led by Gabrielle Union, the black girl squad is rightfully indignant, and they've got no time for Torrance's woes. And none for her charity either. When Torrance finally cooks up a self-made fire routine (with the help of her BFF, played by peak Eliza Dushku) she appeals to her nondescript rich dad to cut a check for the have-nots so they can compete in Nationals against the very best (and, you know, because they deserve to go). But Captain Union pridefully rips the reparations to shreds, proclaiming that they'll get there on their own and when they do, Dunst, Dushku, and crew "better bring it." When the dust clears, of course Union and her girls have rendered Torrance No. 2, and they did it all on their own. —Frazier Tharpe
Crash (2004)
Directed by: Paul Haggis
I cannot write enough spiteful expletives about this film and the sort of people who enjoy it. Crash is a shitstorm of melodrama, shame, angst, and false stabs at post-racial catharsis. Paul Haggis, who says he wrote the film after two black kids carjacked him in L.A., couldn't direct his way out of a parking garage, much less into a thoughtful meditation on prejudice; instead we get this Aesop fantasyland where racism is never subtle or structural, but rather expressed via slurs and sexual assault. Terrence Howard's standard presence isn't even the creepiest thing about this movie, and that's rather remarkable. To this day, Crash is a film favorite of the white middle class' most boring monsters. —Justin Charity
The Blind Side (2009)
Directed by: John Lee Hancock
All praises be to Sandra Bullock, charming even during her rare moments of doing wrong (in the same awards season in which she won the Oscar for her role here, she also graciously accepted a Razzie for that year's severely unfunny All About Steve). But besides her commanding performance as Real Housewife of Tennessee, Leigh Anne Tuohy, and added weight from this being the real-life story of Michael Oher, this movie is otherwise premium Awards Bait White Guilt. If it weren't for the validation of true events, Michael as depicted in the film would be dangerously close to fulfilling Hollywood's favorite narrative archetype, The Magical Negro. He's huge and foreboding...but he's actually a gentle giant! And what's more, he's a whiz on the football field! Totally worth saving now, right?! Cue the Best Picture nomination. —Frazier Tharpe
The Help (2011)
Directed by: Tate Taylor
Another year, another white savior flick, another Best Picture nomination. Old white women eat poop in The Help, and that's the one redemption that keeps this film from trumping Crash in fecklessness and obnoxious acclaim. At least the film was a springboard for Octavia Spencer, who, like co-star Viola Davis, has gone on to bigger, better roles. Still, the recent backlash against Hollywood's limited, narrow-minded casting of black women can be traced back to The Help, which left a bad taste that's lasted four years now. —Justin Charity
12 Years a Slave (2013)
Directed by: Steve McQueen
Not only are the white men in this movie literally guilty as fuck—kidnapping a free man into slavery, fucking scumbags—but the film itself has risen to such heights that it's now the reigning poster film for the sub-genre in which this list focuses on. Only in this case, it's a film with actual form and substance beyond wearing its apology on its sleeve, made by a black man, and championed by black people instead of just pumpkin-spice sipping awards bait moviegoers. It deserved to win. Although, regarding Selma's pseudo-shutout in this year's crop of nominees, one can't help but wonder if 12's nominations and ultimate Best Picture win was less pure acclaim and more of a slate-cleansing bit of due diligence as far as the Academy's concerned. —Frazier Tharpe