Few other authors in the 19th and 20th centuries made greater contributions to Hollywood’s racist images of Africa than Edgar Rice Burroughs – Tarzan’s creator.

During his lifetime, Burroughs mastered the staple “jungle” movie that has characterized films set in Africa since the early part of the 20th century. The scope of Burrough’s “Africa” work is quite impressive from a man that never stepped foot on the continent. His Tarzan series originated in 1912 with Tarzan of the Apes, and continued on through 46 other features plus countless spin-offs (did anyone catch Brendan Fraser’s brilliant performance in George of the Jungle [1997]?).

For this short review, I look specifically at two films: Tarzan, the Ape Man (1932) and Tarzan Escapes  (1936), both starring Olympic swimmer Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan (above).

In Tarzan, the Ape Man, Jane Parker comes to Africa to visit her father, who is on a hunt for ivory. Tarzan abducts Jane and after the initial terror has worn off, Jane realizes that she likes Tarzan and that jungle life suits her.

The trailer for Tarzan, the Ape Man:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntwSGBWCRIw&w=500&h=307&rel=0]

In Tarzan Escapes, a white hunter tries to cage Tarzan to bring him back to “civilization” where he can profit from the “white ape” as a public spectacle. The specifics of neither narrative are important for this discussion. I’m more interested in the overall thematics and ideas, of not only these two films, but Tarzan in general.

The trailers for Tarzan Escapes:

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rq47gK_guMQ&w=500&h=307&rel=0]

Tarzan films are a perfect visual representation of colonialism. The dichotomy between civilized and savage, which is to say, white and black,  is represented in the character’s actions, costumes, and dialogue. White characters carry on in the jungle as if they own the place while black characters are merely the background dwellers. In fact, audiences are invited to relate more closely to the animals than the black humans. But black representations in these films could hardly qualify as human. Blacks are the lazy natives, the savages, the pygmies (little people in blackface in Tarzan Escapes – another problematic unto its own), but “people” they are not.

Just like whites in Africa during colonialism, whites in Tarzan films have  managed to escape the stiff moral and social confines of the metropole. Africa is a fantastic playground as well as a blank canvas where white desires are addressed and explored. These desires include, but are not limited to: escape from money and material possessions, being saved by a hyper-sexualized jungle being, and exhibiting dominance over all living creatures. And of course, Africa is a place to explore the fear surrounding the unknown savage Other.

However, representations of black savage Others are not simply a fetishized white fear, during the early Tarzan era they were also used as propaganda to justify colonial activity. It was very important for Hollywood to paint black Africa as savage to win the support of people back home for colonial expansion; a “the savages need us” message. Ultimately too, it acted as a cover-up for the real savages. I find it interesting that Tarzan Escapes is set in King Leopold’s Congo at a time when the Belgians were raping the land for all it was worth and halving the population through horrific modes of killing (if there is any question about that, read King Leopold’s Ghost by Adam Hochschild).

I want to be fair to Hollywood by suggesting that the racist images of Africa prevalent in the Tarzan films have changed over time. For instance, films about Africa no longer star white characters, and the weight of the narrative is no longer carried by white love stories. Take for example Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Connelly in Blood Diamond (2006) – oh wait. Popular films about Africa no longer show black bodies being killed en masse. And black characters these days have some sense of agency. Take for example black characters in The  Constant Gardener (2005) – oh wait.

The questions going forward are: has anything changed? Are there popular films on Africa that step outside of the Tarzan paradigm?

Allison Swank

Further Reading

Fictions of freedom

K. Sello Duiker’s ‘The Quiet Violence of Dreams’ still haunts Cape Town, a city whose beauty masks its brutal exclusions. Two decades later, in the shadow of Amazon’s new development, its truths are more urgent than ever.

When things fall apart

Against a backdrop of global collapse, one exhibition used Chinua Achebe’s classic to hold space for voices from the Global South—and asked who gets to imagine the future.

The General sleeps

As former Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari’s death is mourned with official reverence, a generation remembers the eight years that drove them out.

The grift tank

In Washington’s think tank ecosystem, Africa is treated as a low-stakes arena where performance substitutes for knowledge. The result: unqualified actors shaping policy on behalf of militarists, lobbyists, and frauds.

Kagame’s hidden war

Rwanda’s military deployments in Mozambique and its shadowy ties to M23 rebels in eastern Congo are not isolated interventions, rather part of a broader geopolitical strategy to expand its regional influence.

After the coups

Without institutional foundations or credible partners, the Alliance of Sahel States risks becoming the latest failed experiment in regional integration.

Whose game is remembered?

The Women’s Africa Cup of Nations opens in Morocco amid growing calls to preserve the stories, players, and legacy of the women who built the game—before they’re lost to erasure and algorithm alike.