Redemption starts with Bruno making his way home after being released from prison. He’s welcomed back by his loving wife and newborn, and gets the keys of his mother’s house from his aunt. It also doesn’t take long for him to find a job in a warehouse nearby. With a house, a job, and a wife and baby, Bruno has everything he needs to be happy. However, things change when the ‘bank’ demands Bruno to pay them $30,000 for a loan his dead mother took out or else they’ll take over his house.

The bank/loan shark that demands money from Bruno is the reason why Bruno regresses to his former life of crime. However, even before they ask for the money, there’s signs that Bruno hasn’t given up his former life. The first indication of this is when he returns to his dead mother’s house on his own and immediately locates his old gun and a roll of U.S. dollars. Instead of throwing the gun away, he returns it to it’s hidden spot when his wife arrives. He knows that if she sees them, she’ll tell him to get rid of them or she’ll leave.

It was also hard to ignore the amount of smoking and drinking in this film. Every other minute, Bruno pauses, lights up a cigarette, and seems to use that break to think. Maybe he’s thinking about the money he could make in the crime world, maybe he’s thinking about moving to South Africa as Mia wants, it’s not clear. What is clear however, is that he smokes a lot. It’s an addiction he hasn’t got rid of. At a stretch, his addiction to smoke and drink are two vices that reveal his weakness for good feelings, and hint that he’s not strong enough to resist the golden allure of returning to crime. Towards the end of the film, Mia even starts smoking, as if it’s a sign that she’s addicted to Bruno and can’t leave him. Like Bruno, she has her chance to leave, but she can’t break her ties to the city.

Bruno’s fate is all but confirmed in the scene when he takes on his first crime job since leaving prison. In it, the camera never moves from the front yard of Bruno’s house as he leaves with his former colleagues and steps into their car. When he is in his front yard, there’s nothing between him and the camera. But once he’s outside his yard, we see him enter his crime boss’ car from behind his yard’s wire fence. Seeing him behind fencing makes it look as if he’s just stepped back into prison. It’s a point of no return for Bruno and his chance at redemption.

However, even though we can blame Bruno for resorting to crime to pay his loans, Redemption makes sure you know that there’s a corrupt system behind his eviction. The big crime boss that Bruno works for appears in a scene paying one of the people working for the bank that demands Bruno repay his mother’s loan. Linking the crime boss to the bank lenders assimilates their actions. Both of them ruthlessly demand money from people who can’t afford them and both of them rob people without sympathy. So if the bank lenders can demand a ridiculous amount of money from Bruno that he didn’t borrow, why shouldn’t he criminally demand a ridiculous amount of money from someone else too.


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The Mercy of the Jungle starts with the same scene it ends with. In it, an armed Sergeant Xavier chases a fleeing rebel across an open field. He appears weary of the endless war but mechanically carries out his duty. Book-ending the film with this same chase scene of Sergeant Xavier in a weary pursuit traps him within the conflict. Every scene he appears in as a Sergeant ready for war. He rarely discloses anything about his dreams or personal life. The war in the heart of the jungle covering Rwanda, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo has consumed him, just as the soldiers in Francis Ford Copolla’s Apocalypse Now are gradually consumed by their war. Whilst he can switch uniforms and play both sides of the war, the cyclical nature of the film indicates he can never escape the conflict or the jungle it takes place in.

The suffocating jungle provides the first test for a lost Sergeant Xavier and Private Faustin, as they try to find their troop. It’s overgrown, making it hard for them to see beyond a few meters. Even in the clearings the mist prevents them from seeing much further. Plus there’s the hot humidity that slowly saps the precious moisture from Xavier and Faustin as they try to find the way; a death curse as there are no signs of fresh water. The jungle is their inescapable prison.

The sounds of the fauna at night tell Xavier and Faustin that they’re not welcome in the jungle. We never see what makes the noises, which helps to make us more paranoid of what could be out there. It’s not clear if it’s an animal stalking them, or just animals passing by. Whatever it is, the fear of the unknown only further demonstrates their complete loss of control in the jungle and slow descent into madness. The diegetic sounds are supported by a loud, deep, ominous soundtrack that builds the feeling of hopelessness. The jungle is consuming them.

The inescapable, consuming jungle goes hand in hand with the inescapable, consuming war. Just as Sergeant Xavier is stuck in the jungle surrounded by unknown, unwelcoming sounds, he’s stuck in the war surrounded by unknown, unwelcoming armed groups. The war is faceless. The only thing that separates Sergeant Xavier from the different armies and rebel groups he encounters is his uniform. Otherwise, they speak the same language and look the same. So, to avoid death, Xavier and Faustin carry multiple uniforms so they can change clothes to blend into the areas they trespass. They even make friends with soldiers and communities they originally fought against. However, although they can fluidly switch sides, Sergeant Xavier can never escape the war. The one time he tries to disguise himself as a civilian, he’s attacked because it’s obvious from his ‘Muhammad Ali’ physique that he’s a soldier. Whilst he can switch military uniforms, he can never return to being a regular civilian. He’s condemned to a life of war.

The Mercy of the Jungle depicts the inescapable cycle of war around the Virunga National Park in the heart of Africa. The suffocating, disorientating jungle is reminiscent of the jungles depicted in Apocalypse Now and Aguirre, whilst the inescapable war is reminiscent of those depicted in War Witch and Beasts of No Nation. The Mercy of the Jungle stands up to all four of these films as one of the best jungle war films there is.


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Kings of Mulberry Street feels like it could have been your 9 year old self’s favorite film. A film that your parents would happily let you watch when you’ve grown out of Disney animation, or that your teachers might put on at school when it’s raining at break-time. A film that the adults would end up staying to watch it with you, because it’s a fun coming-of-age story that everyone can enjoy, set in an Indian community in South Africa.

The first minute immediately sets the tone for the rest of the film. It’s where we first meet 11 year old Ticky dancing along to a classic Bollywood action film projected on the big screen in front of him. He knows all the words and all the action routines. He wants to be the next Amitabh Bachchan, and judging by his confidence, his dreams don’t look too farfetched. The opening establishes Ticky’s charisma and energy; a playful energy and humor that carries through Kings of Mulberry Street.

In the next scene we meet his future sidekick Harold, a chubby kid spoiled by his single dad. They’re posh Indians, as demonstrated by their knitted jumpers and English accents. Harold’s dad even pop quizzes his son on his spelling on their way to their new house. They arrive in Ticky’s neighborhood and immediately try to stay away from mingling with any of the neighbors. Even though they’ve just moved to the hood, and the dad is now writing obituaries for a little local paper, they still see themselves as better then everyone else. They’re the stereotypical wannabe English upper class, complete with the stiff upper lips, that want to stay away from anyone that might disrupt their peace and quiet (see Elton’s dad in Rocketman or Stevens in Remains for the Day for two examples). However, despite Harold’s dad’s efforts to keep him from mixing with the local rabble, inevitably, Harold and Ticky become best friends.

Ticky is Harold’s antidote to his reserved ‘English’ inspired father. He helps him break from his dad’s mold to become ‘more Indian’. Ticky teaches him Indian slang, feeds him Indian food, and introduces him to his big family. Bu,t most importantly, Ticky introduces him to Bollywood film, whose heroes provide the inspiration for them to take back their bike from the local crime boss. In welcoming Harold into the community, Ticky helps tug Harold away from the bland English culture that his father lives by, and into the colorful Indian culture that helps dispel his loneliness. It also helps to break their class boundaries by connecting them through their shared cultural roots. It’s a heartwarming message at the center of a fun coming of age film.


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A Taste of Our Land is the first narrative feature I’ve seen that speaks to the rising Chinese influence in African countries. It’s inspired by the director’s experience working in a Chinese mine in Rwanda, where he saw a colleague beaten so badly he was hospitalized. His crime? To ask for his pay.

A Taste of Our Land features a similarly brutal Chinese-run mine in Uganda. It’s operated by a Chinese convict named Cheng that brutally beats his employees for any acts of dissent. He works for a Chinese company that don’t appear in the film. We only hear them on the other end of Cheng’s phone, emphasizing their disregard for Africa and it’s people. They’re extracting Africa’s wealth from abroad with the help of a criminal. It paints a surprisingly blunt picture of the exploitative motivations of China in Africa

The victim of this film is an older African man called Yohani who struggles to provide for his pregnant wife. He tries to get compensation for the Chinese mine which was built on his land without permission. However, because the local authorities he appeals to have already been paid off, there’s nothing he can do. The African authorities have sold him out for temporary wealth.

When Yohani discovers a nugget of gold on his land, he becomes an obvious allegory of the world’s exploitation of Africa. Three protagonists are after his new found wealth, and each one of them representatives a different world power.

  1. The first is the China, represented in the Chinese mine built on Yohani’s land without his permission. It reaps the fruit of the land without sharing it with the African people. They’re the new colonizers.
  2. The second is Britain, represented in a British immigrant named Donald that walks around wearing a colonial era helmet. The British used to hold power over Africa, but their power has waned in the last 50 years or so, represented by Donald’s asthma inhaler. Donald can’t even tell China what to do, as shown by his inability to convince Cheng to look for gold. However, his colonial era hat symbolizes that Britain still tries to cling onto its’ former power and still exploits the continent.
  3. The third is the Catholic church, represented in a European priest that Yohani looks to for protection. Instead of sheltering Yohani, the priest tries to steal his gold; they’re just another institution that exploits the African people.

Credit is due to the filmmakers for avoiding the conventional African film tropes of war, HIV, and witchcraft to focus on the growing Chinese influence in Africa. It’s rare to see an African film implicating other national powers and religious institutions so blatantly in its demise. However, A Taste of Our Land’s bad acting makes the allegories a bit too obvious. It highlights the heavy handedness of the script and lack of production quality of the film (it’s made on a spartan $12,000 budget). As a result, what could be a subtle implication of religious and national powers in Africa’s exploitation comparable to Andrey Zvyagintsev’s Leviathan, ends up feeling a bit stereotypically comical.


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In Coming from Insanity a poor Togolese house boy becomes a rich counterfeiter in Nigeria. It’s a well-made rags to riches heist thriller that will keep you engaged throughout.

The film starts with Kossi being trafficked across the Nigerian border from Togo in the 1990’s. He’s only 12 when he arrives, but he’s already forced to work as a house boy for an upper-middle class family living in Lagos. Fast forward to the present day and Kossi is still stuck in the same position; slaving away for the well-off family he grew up working for. They don’t care about his dreams, and without an education he’s unlikely to reach them. As far as they’re aware, he’ll always be beneath them.

Fed up with being downtrodden, Kossi resorts to crime. He uses his inventiveness to start counterfeiting dollars and soon becomes the best counterfeiter in Lagos. He slowly scales up his operations like Breaking Bad, employing a cast of people like him to help run his business. However, with a larger operation Kossi picks up the unwanted attention of a determined police agent, sparking a Catch Me If You Can style chase which thrillingly carries this film to the end.

If anything, Coming from Insanity is a testament the production quality of Nollywood. Compared to many of the lower budget productions that featured at the Pan African Film Festival, Coming from Insanity feels like a tent-pole Hollywood film. It stands out because of the following:

  1. It features a cast of established names that have all gained acting experience from previous Nollywood productions instead of an amateur cast.
  2. It has a substantial production budget allowing the crew to effectively film a diverse range of challenging scenes taking place in a very busy city (Lagos), as well as at sea and on the road.
  3. As well as a lot of time spent in post-production that:
    • Evened out the sound levels throughout the film.
    • Matched the images on screen to a soundtrack with the same tone.
    • Edited the shots together to efficiently tell a story without losing the attention of the viewer.

These are all things that we take for granted when watching films from countries with established film industries, such as the U.S, India, and Nigeria. They have the backing of an industry with the capabilities and experience needed for film-makers to make a great looking film, something that other African countries simply don’t have. That’s why Coming from Insanity feels so much more polished than films like Gonarezhou: The Movie and My Village. It has the backing of an industry with the capabilities and experience to make a great film.

That being said, industry backing isn’t everything, as we’ve seen from a number of big budget Hollywood flops in the last few years. Luckily, Coming from Insanity isn’t one of those, it’s polished look only helps it’s tight script to succeed.


Head to our Pan African Film Festival Hub for more reviews from PAFF 2020.