JuJu Stories

Last weekend, the 5th edition of the Nollywood in Hollywood film festival returned to Los Angeles for another brief showcase of the best Nigerian films from the past year. This year, the festival ran for two nights, screening Gone at the USC School of Cinematic Arts on Friday, before heading over to the West Side for Juju Stories at The Aero. Whilst we were only able to attend Saturday’s screening, we encourage all film fans to look out for Nollywood in Hollywood next year. Not only are the screening’s a brilliant showcase of new Nollywood films in a city that often overlooks the African film industries, but these screenings are free and very well hosted.

In many years of attending film festivals, Nollywood in Hollywood’s screening of Juju Stories was only the second which actually provided regional food to the entire audience ahead of the film. The other was a screening of Mohamed Al Daradji’s The Journey for the BFI Fest for which the Iraqi Embassy supplied Baklava to everyone attending. Whilst free food isn’t necessary to enjoy movies, it does add a memorable touch that will probably make you more open to whatever film you are about to see. From what we saw, the free meat pies, spring rolls, and puff puff excited a few attendants familiar with the foods, and made others more open to socializing to discover what the food was and to learn more about the event in the cinema lobby ahead of the film. It’s a great way to get an unfamiliar audience open to experiencing unfamiliar films.


Whilst ‘Nollywood’ has come to stand for all film production from Nigeria, Nollywood boomed in the late 1980’s/early 1990s with the arrival of the VHS system. VHS made filmmaking cheaper and therefore more accessible, allowing anyone (filmmaker or not) to have a go at making their own films. It also made it easier to distribute films, as VHS opened the home video market, meaning filmmakers didn’t have to have to make deals with theaters to get their films seen. Because VHS made it easier and cheaper to shoot films and get them seen, filmmaking in Nigeria exploded. At certain points in the 2000’s the Nollywood film industry was making an estimated 4 films a day! However, alongside the boom in production, the new face of Nigerian cinema faced a lot of criticism. Opening up the film industry to everyone loosened the standards of filmmaking as well as the themes. Many of the new Nollywood productions focused on witchcraft and juju, giving viewers a skewed view of Nigerian (and African) culture.

Juju Stories is an example of the current state of Nollywood film. As the focus of Nigerian film production has switched back to theatrical releases supported by larger budgets, the production standards have improved. Many Nollywood productions are now screened in cinemas at home or abroad, as well as reaching international film festivals and streaming platforms. Whilst the themes made popular in the Nollywood home-video era remain (such as witchcraft), the films look a lot better. Juju Stories is a great example of this. It includes three different stories shot by three different filmmakers from a Nigerian film collective that all touch on Juju. Each short is very well made, and the comedy fit the big screen environment perfectly. It reminded me of a screening of Argentina’s Wild Tales that I saw a while back in which one man, probably Argentinian, was cracking up throughout the film. Similarly, the audience at the Juju Stories screening was cracking up and shouting out at the characters on screen.

Unlike the Nollywood movies of the home-video era, today’s Nollywood films are at home on the big screen. So do yourself a favor and acquaint yourself with Nollywood at the Nollywood in Hollywood film festival next year to see Modern Nigerian film where it should be seen: on the big screen.


Keep an eye on the Nollywood in Hollywood website for details for next year’s festival.

Landfall

Landfall is a political film imbued with anger at the current state of Puerto Rico. It captures life in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, choosing to depict the current post-Hurricane tragedies instead of the actual Hurricane, and setting them within the history of U.S. imperialism. In doing so, Landfall presents a critique of disaster capitalism (see Naomi Klein’s Shock Doctrine) and the U.S. stranglehold on Puerto Rico and it’s ineffectual politicians.

That being said, the actual footage isn’t inherently political. Each scene from each part of the island is shot observationally without any directorial input or opinion. For example, the profile on the wealthy real estate family by itself doesn’t include any tough questions for the family or a political lens. However, by moving between these profiles of wealthy families and crypto-billionaires and profiles of rural farmers struggling to make a living and activists protesting the governor, the film becomes political. It juxtaposes the increasingly wealthy with the increasingly poor to highlight the growing inequality on the island. And by jumping around the country to visit a range of communities, Aldarondo shows that this inequality is endemic to all parts of the country.

One of the most memorable snapshots captures the arrival of U.S. crypto billionaires. They’ve arrived on the island cloaked in good intentions with promises for employment and wealth via the blockchain. However, when confronted by locals on their similarities with the white American imperialists that preceded them their benevolent facade crumbles. One represents the danger of a white savior – talking down on the locals as if he’s the only one that can solve their issues – whilst another represents the cultural eradication of cultural appropriation in her dreaded hair. Cut with scenes documenting the history of U.S. imperialism and speakers pressing Puerto Rico to privatize the country to encourage foreign investment and the warning signs are clear. Puerto Rico is on the brink of being re-colonized by wealthy Americans looking for a clean tax-haven for their millions. Their arrival is a threat to indigenous Puerto Rican life.

Landfall is made as an urgent warning to the precarious situation on the island. Just like Zuckerberg’s land grabs in Hawaii, and the privatization of post-Katrina New Orleans, post-Maria Puerto Rico is arriving at its own tipping point. Fortunately there is some hope that indigenous way of life prevails, represented in the people protesting the Governor, the community schools, and the family standing up to real estate in Vieques. The fight for Puerto Rico isn’t quite over.

Head to our LALIFF 2021 Hub for more reviews from the 20th edition of LALIFF.

Medusa

Medusa is another genre-bending movie set in contemporary Brazil (see Bacurau, Good Manners, Executive Order, or Divine Love) that corresponds with the rise in the far right and radical Christianity in Brazil. The focus of this film is on how the patriarchy is upheld by radical Christian women

In modern day Brazil, a woman watches a sexy music video of a woman dancing on her way home on the night bus. When she gets off, she’s tailed by a gang of masked women. She tries to escape, but can’t. They gang up on her, beat her up, and force her to swear fealty to Jesus and to become a good Christian woman.

The attackers are Mariana and her female friends from the local evangelical church. Their horror-genre influenced masks are obviously intimidating. However, behind the mask they’re even more sinister. Instead of carrying faces that show years of trauma and fear they carry pristine smiles and clean pastel clothes. They look like a group of preppy high-school girls and not like your typical group of thugs. Their smiles and matching identity give them a cold collective assuredness that their violence is right and justified, when it isn’t. It also highlights a lack of individuality stemming from the strict codes of their social bubble – no one wants to stand out for fear of being identified with the other, so they all try to one-up each other in their devotional acts in order to maintain their social position. They’ve already started beating up people in the street, so what are they capable of next?

The design of the film makes it clear Mariana is brainwashed by her bubble of existence. The church she attends with her friends is flavored with hypnotizing 80’s music and dystopian neon lights and features coordinated song and dance routines that make them look robotic. Plus the microphone holding, slick talking, smartly dressed preacher gives off hints of snake oil salesmen before we see his ‘miracles.’ The whole radical Christian experience is designed to indoctrinate Mariana and her friends. Plus as a reward, they get friends like them, and corresponding male counterparts in the beefy ‘Watchmen’ group that attends their same church.

Problem is they can’t control everything in their own lives. They’re still victims to the patriarchy that plays them – both represented in the male religious pastor they fervently follow and the male ‘Watchmen’ they’re expected to date and marry. They can either continue to live for the radical Christian patriarchy and stay in their bubble, or break free by expanding their bubble until it pops.


Head to our AFI Fest 2021 Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2021.

Le Pupille brings you into a Catholic Orphanage during Christmas in the height of the Second World War. Despite the frugal times and strict Mother Superior, the girls find joy in a few magical scenes reminiscent of the wonder of early cinema.

In the Catholic Orphanage, objects are a scarcity. Unlike the often stuffy materialism of today’s modern world, the girls in Le Pupille live in large rooms with very few things around them. This partly emphasizes the frugality of the war period, and in turn, distinguishing any warm nostalgia for Italian fascism, but it also sets a blank slate for the rare objects included in the movie to star. The radio and the giant red cake are enhanced by the absence around them, making them seem much more luxurious than they should be.

The frugality in front of the camera is also seen in the film’s production. The director, Alice Rohrwacher, shot Le Pupille completely on film, and therefore all of the special effects are completely VFX free. This gives the film a playful magic that feels like the wonder of the Melies’ silent films. In one scene a baby appears out of thin air (from one shot to the next), whilst a freeze-framed shouting Mother Superior conveys shock from what feels like the kids perspective in another. Unlike the seriousness of modern VFX, that often strives for digital realism, the old school special effects used here add wonder and magic to film. It encourages wonder rather than inhibiting it.

It’s this simplicity both in front of the camera (with the limited objects and distractions) and behind the camera (in the production process) that makes this short Christmas film feel so playful and joyful.


Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

La Botera

Set within a neglected Buenos Aires neighborhood, La Botera follows Tati, a girl living alone with her father whilst navigating the challenges of adolescence.

Tati is already an independent woman. The opening scene shows her getting up, making breakfast, and getting ready for school on her own. We’d think she was living alone until the phone rings and Tati tries to wake up her previously unseen dad to answer it. She also sticks up for herself against the bullies at and outside of school in contrast to her childhood friend and confidently initiates conversation with people older than herself, such as a local boat rower she plays boyfriend and girlfriend with. However, she still retains the naivety of a young adult as shown in her awkwardly brash interactions with older kids and her friendship with another young neighborhood boy. The army games and relationship with the latter show she’s still connected to the young girl she’s slowly moving away from whilst the conversation with older kids represent the pull of her growing up.

Her coming of age feels a bit more hostile than others. It’s partly due to the bleak environment La Botera is set within – the constantly overcast skies and heavily clothed characters emphasize the cold unwelcoming environment. But the hostility is mostly due to the strained relationship she has with the dad she lives with alone. Unlike the gentler fathers in other father-daughter coming of age movies like Eighth Grade and Alba, Tati’s father offers little love and sympathy. He punishes and chastises her in almost every scene they share. Even when he has an opportunity to share a moment with her, such as when they’re watching football on TV, he gets annoyed as she apparently shouldn’t enjoy a ‘man’s game’. Maybe he’s been affected by the neighborhood they live in or his own experiences, or maybe his machismo just hides his fatherly insecurities. Either way, he contributes to the hostility of his daughter’s coming of age.

If you’re into coming of age stories set within a pretty bleak environment, La Botera is worth a watch. The close-up shots that follow Tati give it an edge that make it feel more real and personal than others.


Head to our LALIFF 2021 Hub for more reviews from the 20th edition of LALIFF.