by Tim Gordon
This week in Black film history reminds us just how far we’ve come — and who laid the groundwork. Two films, released two decades apart and within a day of each other, left an indelible mark on Black cinema and pop culture.
On July 2, 1971, Shaft swaggered onto the big screen and instantly became a phenomenon. Directed by Gordon Parks, Sr., the first Black director of the modern Hollywood era, the film didn’t just flip the script on what a Black leading man could be. It redefined him. Richard Roundtree’s John Shaft wasn’t a sidekick or a one-note stereotype; he was slick, streetwise, and unapologetically Black. For the first time in a major studio release, audiences got a hero who walked New York’s gritty streets with the kind of cool that said: we can save ourselves.
One of Shaft’s greatest impacts was how it showcased style as more than just costume; it became an attitude and a statement for the culture. Shaft’s leather trench coats, turtlenecks, and Harlem swagger set a template for how Black masculinity and urban fashion could stand boldly on the big screen. That raw style inspired a generation, proving that what we wear and how we move through our communities is part of our resistance, a reminder that even on the gritty streets, we have our brand of power, cool, and dignity.
But Shaft didn’t just open the door for Black masculinity in mainstream movies; it turned up the volume for Black music in film, too. Isaac Hayes’ legendary score didn’t just win a Grammy and an Oscar — it started a wave. Hayes showed Hollywood that Black artists could define a film’s identity, mood, and staying power through sound.
His Theme from Shaft, with its wah-wah guitars, driving bassline, and unforgettable orchestration, paved the way for a whole era of Black musical storytelling. Right behind him came Curtis Mayfield’s Super Fly, Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man, James Brown’s Black Caesar, and later, artists like Prince (Purple Rain), LA & Babyface (Boomerang), and Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis (Poetic Justice, Janet Jackson), all proving that the right Black soundtrack could become just as iconic as the film itself.
Fast forward to July 1992, when Eddie Murphy’s Boomerang flipped that same power of style and cultural ownership into a fresh vision of what Black success could look like in the ’90s. By this point, Murphy was already one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, but Boomerang showed audiences a more polished, grown-up side of him that expanded his legacy. This wasn’t streetwise grit — this was corporate cool, luxury fashion, and Black professionals taking up space at the top.
Under Reginald Hudlin’s sharp direction, Boomerang did something we rarely saw at the time: it put Black style and professionalism front and center. Marcus Graham’s world was one of glass skyscrapers, corner offices, tailored suits, high-end restaurants, and designer wardrobes. The film’s glossy, upscale visuals were a love letter to a generation of young, upwardly mobile Black professionals who finally saw themselves living large, falling in love, messing up, and bouncing back, all while looking like they belonged in any boardroom in America.
And the cast made sure we saw every facet of that: Robin Givens’ fierce boss energy, Halle Berry’s warm elegance, Grace Jones and Eartha Kitt bringing avant-garde fashion and generational star power. Boomerang said that our ambition, beauty, and swagger don’t stop at the street corner; they thrive in executive suites and luxury lofts too. It’s no surprise the soundtrack followed suit, with Babyface, LA Reid, and a roster of artists who brought that same romantic polish and timeless vibe.
Both Shaft and Boomerang showcased style in ways that continue to resonate in Black cinema. Shaft gave us the street-style blueprint, the grit, the leather, the cool that said, “Don’t mess with us.” Boomerang elevated that blueprint into boardroom chic, showing that Black professionals could define class, romance, and corporate power on their terms. Each film captures a critical moment in our cinematic history, with an iconic, groundbreaking performance from Richard Roundtree and a polished, maturing Eddie Murphy, reminding us that style isn’t just about what you wear. It’s about how you stand in the world, and how you move the culture forward every time you take up space.