Hairareb

Hairareb follows the relationship between Hairareb, a middle-aged farmer, and Innis, his new bride. As they begin to get comfortable with their new life together, the secrets behind their marriage and from their past lives roll out into the open, creating a whirlwind of trouble for their budding relationship. Can they weather the storm, or will they fall back to the mistakes they made in the past?

There’s a lot going on in the opening scenes of the movie. The opening scene shows a man riding a horse into the sunset accompanied by a loud soundtrack and voiceover like a Hollywood Western. It introduces us to Hairareb’s narrative voice. The next shows a young man unlocking a chest of someone’s mementos. It’s not clear whose mementos or how he’s related to them. The film doesn’t give too many clues in the next few scenes either as it jumps straight to Hairareb and Innis’ wedding. From there, the jumping back and forth stops for a while, until the film delves into the two main character’s past lives, which by this point at least, helps to clear up some of the confusion from the start of the film and provide a bit of character development. However, for the most part, Hairareb feels unfocused. The drought, relationships, character backstories, and life in rural Namibia are all sacrificed for the sake of creating domestic melodrama, leaving the film feeling pretty hollow.

As you’ll notice from the start, this is a domestic melodrama. The loud soundtrack and overwrought narrative voice give that away. The use of a narrator feels a bit unnecessary at times, as everything Hairareb says could be built into a more natural script. It feels like it has been included to cut corners in the character building and plot to advance the plot quicker. It’s also always full of writing that feels a bit overdone, especially when it’s read alongside an overbearing soundtrack that doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. The soundtrack also often gives away the direction of the scenes before they’re acted out. Upbeat musical interludes play a few scenes before the newlyweds are happy and the villains are given away before the reveals by the loud ominous soundtrack accompanying their face on screen. A little more subtlety may have created a bigger surprise for these reveals, however, viewers used to melodramas may not be as put off by these moments as it’s all part of the fun.

The language choices were also interesting. Whilst the film was mostly shot in English, there were some moments where the cast started speaking the indigenous Khoekhoe language. Presumably English was chosen for the film’s marketability abroad, but why not then just run the whole film in English for this reason? The Khoekhoegowab words seemed to be included randomly and not for certain characters or moments so it wasn’t clear why they were included. If the director wanted to include the language, it would have been great to have used Khoekhoe throughout the movie. I don’t believe it would have made much of a difference to the international audience viewing it and maybe the actors would have been more comfortable using it.

Overall, if you’re looking for a Namibian domestic melodrama, you’ve come to the right place. Every scene of Hairareb is filled with it, from the music to the relationship reveals. There’s also some beautifully framed shots of rural Namibia to showcase the landscape. However, if you’re not familiar with the domestic melodrama genre you’ll probably find this example overdone and lacking in substance.


Check back to our Pan African Film Festival 2022 page for more reviews coming out of the 30th edition of the festival.


The debut feature from Gibrey Allen, Right Near the Beach, was one of our favorite films at the Pan African Film Festival 2020 in Los Angeles. It builds on the themes of grief and homophobia in Allen’s 2011 short film Excuses for Jeff with a unique visual style and soundscape which makes you feel like you’re in the film, right next to the characters.

So we’re excited to present a brief interview with Gibrey Allen himself. Scroll down for the interview, and be sure to follow Gibrey Allen on Instagram (@DearMayFilms) for updates on Right Near the Beach‘s release. You can read our review of Gibrey’s debut feature here.


First of all, what inspired you to become a filmmaker? 

Before I started making films I was acting. I was always interested in film-making but the drive to create better roles than what I was been offered was the impetus. 

I found that in my first project Excuses for Jeff. The end to end creative process was a both a great challenge and joy. Living every aspect of the film-making process gave me a greater purpose than playing a character. Creating and having control of how story is told, particularly stories about the black experience, is important. Stories that celebrate or show true conflict, or stories that aren’t trivial, are important to me. That is my film-making mission. 

What drew you to the story of Jeff and homophobia in Jamaica?

Homophobia in Jamaica unfortunately is a very real and prominent thing. The music can sometimes inform this, as well as religion, laws and politics which in turn normalizes homophobic thinking. It makes you forget what every human being wants; love and acceptance. Migrating from Jamaica to New York, where sexuality is varied and open, made me see the LGBTQ community not for their sexual interactions but for the people they are. With the story of Jeff I wanted to tell a very human story, not the usual approach I have seen in films and  documentaries. To tell and move a story with cinema; the music, the sound, and visuals is what I love about film-making. I didn’t want to lecture with this film, I wanted to appeal to the heart.

How was filming in Jamaica?

Filming overall was a good experience. Most of the issues stemmed from a budgetary stand point; a smaller crew and not being able to get all the locations we’d hope for. Early on we figured we’d embrace these things, looking at what we did have and use that to make an even more intimate story. 

Did having Excuses for Jeff help in the production of Right Near the Beach?

Yes. Knowing the area and landscape helped. Forehand knowledge of some of the challenges and logistics, such transportation and accommodations. It also helped with the writing process because I knew which characters to tell the story best through. 

How did you develop your process for your first feature film versus making you short films?

The feature was the same approach as the shorts. Not necessarily by design but because the feature was shot in three different trips over a year and a half. The scope of things didn’t become so grandiose and production didn’t become a huge moving thing. 

What informed your visual style and soundscape for Right Near the Beach?

I want a voyeuristic view into the life of Mr. Jacob, the father. Almost like you’re eavesdropping on something you’re not supposed to see, someone in deep pain and mourning.  The movement of the camera to react violently when he’s angry, the movement slowing down in the quiet and pensive moments. Terrence Malick’s visual language was a great reference and also Lance Hammer’s Ballast.

We embraced the nature sounds; the flora and fauna that are natural to the farm and rural setting. Quiet moments were also very important so you had time to feel and get pulled into the journey. For the Mike character we used more post-production sounds, sounds that call back to his past and childhood. More mechanical sounds which underscore the demons he’s living with.  

What challenges did you face in building the style into the film?

The main challenge that we found was that we didn’t have lots of coverage on shots. With the one-take approach that we primarily used we had to shoot until we got the take that worked. This was also magnified because the cast were all local players. There’s a bit of safety in having full coverage, you can cut away to another angle or to other subjects if something doesn’t work with a particular take.

Do you feel like you made the film you set out to make, or did your vision for the film change in the film-making process?

Yes, the overall idea and feel of the story came through. However, the film process was very fluid and organic. We had to embrace everything that came along. Weather for example was a big one. It’s a tropical climate so it would rain or get overcast. Rather than waiting for these things to pass we used them to heighten moments in the film. 

How is your release going so far?

No release yet as the hope is to build an audience and buzz through festivals before we take that step. 

Where can readers catch the film next?

Not sure yet as COVID-19 has affected the festival run. Follow @DearMayFilms on Instagram for updates.

Do you have any projects in the works?

Yes, currently in pre-production on the next feature, also set in Jamaica. Can’t give much details yet but I can say it’s going be in the western style. 

What films, books, music, art can we look up to get to know you better?

Films: The cinematic language I like are that of Terence Malick, Lars Von Trier, Steven McQueen (Please watch Hunger), Thomas Vinterberg. Pretty much anything that Roger Deakins and Emmanuel Lubezki photographs.

Music: Tons of Reggae; Beres Hammond, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley, Ken Booth, Toots and the Maytals. Blues, Folk music and anything that promotes me keeping my beard.


Gibrey Allen

Follow Gibrey Allen @DearMayFilms on Instagram for updates on where to watch Right Near the Beach. You can read our full review of Right Near the Beach here.

Shaina

Shaina (Shine) is a teenager who has a knack for making something out of nothing and could have a promising future as an engineer, except for the fact that she doesn’t believe in herself. When she and her best friends are faced with a host of grown-up problems – loss of loved ones, unpaid exam fees and the curse of “blessers” – they come close to giving up. Their story is one of forgiveness and friendship, of creating a new family from the people who love you, and of the very real girl power.

Once you see Shaina you’ll realize that this blurb is sugar coated. Her “grown-up problems” are a list of the very worst things that could happen to a kid: losing your only guardian, being unable to afford education, and stalkers that groom you. Based on what happens, this could be one of the most depressing films of recent times, in the same field as Capernaum, but it chooses not to be. Despite the awful conditions, Shaina is filled with vibrant colors, positive music, and dancing. It’s unrealistic hopefulness is present from the opening scene in which Shine digs for scraps in the local junkyard whilst uplifting music plays in the background. Even though it feels overly optimistic considering the circumstances, the hopeful portrayal of Shine and her friends is needed to prevent this from becoming poverty porn.

However, the credibility of the film isn’t helped by the clichéd characters. One friend resorts to prostitution to help get by, another friend is pregnant, and there’s a dodgy crime lord. It’s also not helped by what feels like an overwritten script which verbalized everything in the dialogue, leaving little to be said by the images.

Another thing that felt too obvious was the film’s love for capitalism. It’s presented as the obvious answer to Shine’s problems despite all the awful things that she has to deal with. It conveys that it’s no big deal that she has to raise money to pay for her school exams now that her family has died and people have stolen what was left for her education, because she can just become an ‘entrepreneur’ and make enough money by selling eggs after school. The movie chooses to use Shine’s inventiveness as a wonderful way out of poverty instead of examining why she has to make money to pay for her education after she’s left an orphan in the first place. Perhaps this isn’t surprising given that this is a film made with U.S. Aid. However, the focus on the American dream just feels like a hopeful distraction from Shine’s reality.


Check our Pan African Film Festival 2021 page for more reviews coming out of the 29th edition of the festival.

rewind and play

Rewind and Play is an incredibly uncomfortable example of how the Black experience has been written out of history. Alain Gomis digs up the outtakes from an interview Thelonious Monk did with French state television in 1969. It reveals that behind what perhaps appeared to be a simple profile of a Jazz musician, is a heavily edited, whitewashed version of one of the genres largest names. His talent and experience is deliberately reduced to a few stereotypical nuggets to fit a white European audience.

Initially, you might think that Thelonious Monk is just shy, from the short answers he gives to the interviewers questions. For example, he barely responds to the interviewer when asked about his first experience in Paris. However, as the film progresses, it becomes clear why Monk isn’t responding. He’s actually already answered the question multiple times – telling the interviewer that he faced discrimination despite being the top billing at the Paris Jazz Festival in 1954, but the French interviewer doesn’t want to hear it. He dismisses his experience of racism as ‘not nice,’ ‘derogatory’ words and keeps asking the same question to get Monk to lie.

He gives short answers as he’s not allowed to say anything else. His life and music are defined by his race, but he’s prohibited from mentioning it. In order to enforce the ‘color-blindness’ of France, the interviewer and state TV have written Monk’s life instead of allowing him to tell it. As they edit out everything he says, the interviewer ends up telling the French TV audience Monk’s life instead. Monk’s experiences have been turned into cookie cutter pieces of his life to be digested by a middle-class white audience.

The short answers, just like the shots of Monk leaving the stage after his piano pieces, also convey his justified frustration. Unfittingly for the celebrity he is, Monk is captured like an animal at the zoo, turning him into a token of fluke Black genius rather than celebrating his genius completely. He’s lit up with a ton of lights, causing him to sweat profusely, and then the camera zooms in for extreme close ups as if analyzing his anatomy to try and find something to prove his inferiority. He’s the celebrity, but he’s never offered a drink or anything to make him more comfortable. Instead, it’s the white interviewer in the position of power, leering at him whilst leaning over the piano and mandating how to respond to his questions and what to play. French TV want to take his music and separate it from his life. There’s no respect for him as a person.

Alain Gomis manages to brilliantly bring out the awful experience Monk faced in Europe through the outtakes of this French interview. He reveals that there is often much more value in the outtakes than the actual chosen footage. By highlighting this injustice, Gomis forces viewers to question all portrayals of Black celebrities and experiences by the media.


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

Executive Order

Executive Order starts in the court room as Antonio, a young black lawyer fights a case for reparations for Afro-Brazilians. Meanwhile, a number of Brazilian news reporters live stream footage of an old black lady entering the department of state to collect the very first reparations payment in the country. However, just as you think this is going to be a utopia from the positive start, the government officials turn the old lady away, kicking off a downward cycle of police presence and prejudice against Afro-Brazilians.

The cases of blatant and behind-closed-doors racism that the director presents don’t feel too surprising. The scenes – such as the one featuring the racist man in the bar – feel carbon copies of similar scenes documenting racist events from Hollywood movies. Neither is the descent of the country into a dystopian fascist state that forcibly deports all people with African blood back to Africa as we’ve already seen bleak dystopias on screen in The Handmaid’s Tale. However, the surprising part is that it’s mostly presented in a pretty upbeat manner. The music, colorful pictures, and light banter between the main characters matches the light tone of a Spike Lee neighborhood film. It gives the film a gospel-ish feel – that despite all the terrible things going on, there’s still hope for the Afro-Brazilian characters. Maybe it would have been too hard to see this film without the upbeat tone considering the current state of Brazilian politics. So instead of being a gritty, depressing film, Executive Order is a palatable Hollywood-style dystopian drama that allows space for a few laughs at the absurdity of the white supremacist state.

Whilst it could have been more ‘radical’ and a bit less obvious, it’s good to see a light hearted drama that anyone can watch and enjoy tackle rarely mentioned topics like reparations on the big screen.


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