WATCH THE WORLD

Our goal is to open up the world to everyone through film. Everyone should travel if they can (the world is amazing), but it costs time and money which we don't always have. That's where FilmRoot comes in. We bring the world of films to your couch, so you can travel wherever you want to without the flight fees.

Use our World Map to find the best films from each country, choose a continent below to explore the best films from each continent, or simply scroll down to see our latest posts featuring films from around the world. Or, if you're up for a challenge, work your way up to the top of our Film Difficulty Rankings to become a World Film expert.

Latest Posts

This Is Not A Burial, It’s A Resurrection – Sundance 2020

This Is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection is not your typical film. It’s pretty slow paced and full of carefully crafted shots, reminiscent of director Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese’s debut, Mother I Am Suffocating. This is My Last Film About You. However, unlike his debut documentary feature, This Is Not a Burial, Its a Resurrection is Mosese’s first fictional feature film. But don’t expect an easy to follow narrative, as like a Lav Diaz film (see From What is Before), it requires a lot of interpretation. If you put in the effort, you’ll be rewarded with a beautiful constructed film touching on a wide range of themes covering death, community, progress, and the environment.

This Is Not a Burial, Its a Resurrection starts chaotically with a slow motion shot of a group of horses being attacked by tribesmen. This opening shot doesn’t appear to serve any contextual purpose, as the horses or tribesmen never reappear later in the film, but it does create a sense of uneasiness which prevents us from settling into the film. This feeling continues into the next scene in which a camera slowly pans around a dark empty bar with the eerie sounds of a lesiba instrument playing in the background. The cameras stops on a uniquely dressed man who starts giving us clues about what we are about to see. He doesn’t reveal much, as he uses a lot of legends and proverbs which don’t mean much to us at this point, but his speech indicates that we’ll have to be an active viewer and search for deeper meaning in the rest of the film.

We finally meet our main protagonist Mantoa in the next scene. She’s an eighty-something woman living alone in remote valley in Lesotho, which is a days trip from the nearest town. Her last son has passed away, so she’s now the last one left in her family. As a result, all she craves now is her own death, so she sets about planning her own funeral. Until her time comes, she carries on with the futility of her life, attending local community meetings and covering cracks in her mud floor. However, her patience is disrupted by news that the local government are planning to flood the area with the construction of a big dam. Not only does the dam disrupt the plans for her own burial, but it will also force the relocation of her buried family. As the main figure leading the resistance against the dam, she becomes more and more distanced from her community and religion. Her death isn’t a physical one, but a death from her community and cultural roots as the country ruthlessly pushes forward in the name of progress.

The narrative is sparse, but the look and feel of the film is incredibly rich. One way Mosese adds a unique richness is through his use of a taller 1:33:1 aspect ratio which gives the picture slightly more height. The extra vertical space allows the sky to dominate every image by taking up almost half of the screen for each landscape shot. In contrast, the people in the community are largely confined to the bottom third of each landscape shot. This framing adds power to the sky and nature, and diminishes the significance of the people below. Their lives and the things they do, such as building dams, are impermanent compared to the eternal nature of the sky (and heaven?). The taller aspect ratio therefore enforces the futility of not just Mantoa, but the futility of humanity as a whole.

The futility of humanity is enforced by the feeling generated by the films’ soundtrack. Firstly, listen to the trailer for this film without watching it. It sounds like a horror film. There’s the unique muffled bursts of the lesiba combined with a horror 101 mix of piano notes, scratchy strings, and ascending voices. This soundscape plays throughout the film to viscerally convey the confusion, anger, and sadness that Mantoa feels on her quest to join her dead family. But the sounds used in horror films also signifies the presence of the spiritual realm. Just as the taller aspect ratio gives more power to the sky and nature at the expense of the significance of humanity, the soundtrack bolsters the dominance of the spiritual over the physical human bodies. It reminds us that we’re not in control of our own fate.

The unsettling opening, sparse narrative, and rich look and feel of the film make This is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection feel enigmatic. By the end, it feels like you’ve just watched a piece of art. You might have understood a bit of the film and felt its power and beauty, but you will finish it feeling that it’s full meaning is unattainable. It’s mystery is the mystery of life.

A Storm Was Coming (Anunciaron Tormenta) – Berlinale 2020

A Storm Was Coming starts with a still shot of the landscape of Equatorial Guinea. Slowly, the landscape becomes more and more overexposed until the shot is completely whitewashed and the landscape has disappeared. This visual example of whitewashing to start A Storm Was Coming is a style that director Jose Fernandez Vasquez uses throughout the film to represent the Spanish Empire’s eradication of the culture of Equatorial Guinea.

The Spanish Empire controlled Equatorial Guinea until 1968. As presented by the Spanish texts from the Francoist era which are read in the film, their rule was benevolent. Colonialism and the power structures it left ensured that an indigenous voice didn’t arise to challenge the Spanish hegemony. This one sided history is represented throughout the film through the scenes of a white man recording Spanish history and the lack of indigenous representation.

Scenes of a white Spanish man in a recording studio reading passages from bibliographies of Spanish colonists make up the bulk of A Storm Was Coming. The passages, which are being recorded in a studio in Madrid, present a one sided view of the history of Equatorial Guinea from the capital of the colonizers. These scenes are visually supported by images of different Spanish missions in Equatorial Guinea appearing out of a blank screen, as if they’re appearing on white photographic paper processed in the photographic darkroom. Their appearance from nothing, perpetuates the controversial colonial viewpoint that colonialism ‘civilized’ their colonies, providing infrastructure, culture, and history. It’s a viewpoint that erases all pre-colonial history, as if nothing of significance existed before the colonists’ arrival. The director combines images of Spanish missions appearing from ‘nothing’ with the reading of Spanish colonial texts to demonstrate the Spanish hegemony of written, aural, and visual Equatoguinean history.

Whilst the voices of Spanish colonists are being preserved, the voices of the colonized have been lost. We hear from a few Bubi people (one of the indigenous groups in Equatorial Guinea), but we never see them on screen. They tell us about Esaasi Eweera, a Bubi leader who tried to resist the Spanish Empire. He’s a heroic leader in their eyes, but his resistance is diminished in Spanish texts. As a result, he has almost disappeared from history, just as the place of his birth has disappeared under overgrown bush. Furthermore, whilst the film spends a lot of time documenting the Spanish voices in Madrid and showing images of Spanish missions, the only pictures of native Equatoguinean people are flashed onto the screen for less than half of a second. Their lack of representation emphasizes how the Spanish rule has lasted visually and aurally, seared onto the minds of the native and Spanish people. In contrast, the Bubi have disappeared from the past and present; they don’t even appear in the film.

Well, at least until the very last scene. To prevent enforcing the Spanish narrative the film reveals, the director, a Spanish filmmaker himself, ends A Storm Was Coming with a face on interview with Bubi scholar Justo Bolekia Boleká. It’s the first time the director shows a native Equatoguinean on screen, giving him more respect than the other characters with a face to face interview. It’s also the first time we hear the Bube language. Ending with Justo Bolekia Boleká and his daughter reciting a Bubi poem in Bube, reveals one thing the Spanish couldn’t eradicate: memory. It’s an ending statement that shows that Bubi culture still survives, despite the Spanish cultural and historical hegemony which still holds power today.

Watched on Festival Scope Pro. This film screened at the Berlinale Forum 2020.

A Guide to the 2020 Pan African Film Festival (PAFF)

As the film industry recovered from the surprises from the Academy Awards and started preparing trips to the European film market in Berlin, I took some time out to cover the 28th edition of the Pan African Film Festival (PAFF). Taking place in Black History Month, PAFF is the largest black film festival in the United States. It’s also one of the largest film festivals in Los Angeles, and it’s situated just under 7 miles south of Hollywood in Baldwin Hills. If you’re looking for a wide range of black films from around the world, this is the festival you need to attend.

Whilst it doesn’t have the star status of Cannes, Venice, or Toronto, the Pan African Film Festival did have an incredibly wide range of African and Afro-Latin films in its 225 film schedule. This is exactly why PAFF had been on my calendar for the last few months. Where else can you see films from so many African and Caribbean countries without hopping on a plane?

Anyway, let’s get into it. You’ve probably read some of the reviews posted on the PAFF page, but what was the festival actually like?

The Audiences

Whilst the audience at SBIFF was old and white, I didn’t notice more than a handful of old white viewers throughout the entire 12 day schedule at PAFF. The audience at PAFF was mostly Black. I guess this isn’t surprising given that this is the largest Black film festival in the United States happening in one of the oldest Black communities in Los Angeles. However, it was disappointing to see a lack of support for Black films from the rest of Los Angeles. Especially as these films are almost always overlooked in favor of big Hollywood releases and European art-house films every year.

It was also nice not being the youngest person in the audience for every screening. The majority of the audience was middle aged, but there were a few young faces in almost all of the screenings; either young kids brought by their parents or college students. That being said, the percentage of viewers under 25 was much lower than what I’ve seen at the BFI London Film Festival. To bring it up again, the BFI’s program for offering discounted tickets to anyone under 25 just before the screenings start, would be a great way to fill empty seats whilst boosting a younger audience.

The City

The Pan African Film Festival takes place in Los Angeles, but, if you’ve visited Los Angeles before, you’ll know that it’s a place made up of many small cities. Instead of spreading out from a center like London, Berlin, and Toronto (other big cities with big film festivals) Los Angeles doesn’t have a definitive center. As a result, there isn’t a focus to the city or a center that you can walk from sight to sight on a sightseeing tour. So whilst the Pan African Film Festival takes place in Los Angeles, it’s more helpful to say that it takes place in Baldwin Hills, a neighborhood in South Los Angeles.

Specifically, PAFF takes place at the Cinemark by the Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Mall. It’s a perfect location for a film festival in Los Angeles because: there’s a lot of free parking, there’s a lot of cheap food options in the mall food court, and it’s easy to drive to (yes Los Angeles is a car city). You can also get there on public transport by taking the train to the Expo/Crenshaw metro stop and walking south along Crenshaw. It’s only a 15 minute walk. Although as mentioned, this is Los Angeles, so you’ll probably be the only person walking.

One of the best things about the mall, besides the cheap food options, is the art festival that takes place as part of the film festival. It features a lot of stalls selling African art, clothes, and beauty products. Perfect if you’re looking for a souvenir.

The Experience

Unlike the mess of lines that plague other film festivals, PAFF was pretty well managed. This was probably because it took place in one of Cinemark’s most popular theaters in the country. It has the capacity to accommodate over 3,000 people in it’s 16-18 screens (where all the screenings took place). Plus, buying tickets was a breeze thanks to the ticket selling screens and many box office assistants. PAFF was convenient and stress free; buying tickets, queuing, and getting to your screening was easy.

The proportion of talent attendance was also probably higher than any other festival I’ve attended. Approximately 50% of the screenings were complemented by Q&A’s featuring key talent from the films. This was an even more impressive figure given that most of these artists had traveled from Africa with their first U.S. visas.

The Films

Last, but not least, how were the movies?

Firstly, the selection at PAFF was impressively diverse even though if focused solely on black films. It featured 225 films from 52 countries in 26 languages. To put that into perspective, the Santa Barbara International Film Festival had films from 50 countries, 2 countries behind PAFF. That being said, the quality of the films was pretty erratic. There were a handful of gems from first time filmmakers (see below) which was a welcome surprise, but also a handful of films that appeared to still be in the developmental stage or stuck in clichés.

The feature Films

As mentioned, the feature film selection at PAFF was very hit or miss, which I guess is to be expected from countries without established film industries. I was lucky enough to see 14 feature films during my time at the festival. Here’s how they stacked up. Click the links to read the full reviews.

The Mercy of the Jungle
Tenere
Right Near the Beach
Verde
Black Mexicans
Kings of Mulberry Street
Redemption
Granma Nineteen and the Soviet’s Secret
Bigman Wahala
Desrances
Subira
Gonarezhou: The Movie
Kijiji Changu
Ekoua

PAFF’s Best: 1

With a great look, an easy to follow but intelligent story, and two great characters, The Mercy of the Jungle was the best film I saw at PAFF. It was a faultless all rounder that I hope gets a U.S. release in the not too distant future.

The Runner Up: 2

In second place was Tenere a feature documentary from a first time filmmaker. The incredible footage of the migrant journey across the desert on a Mad Max-esque truck is what makes this documentary so awesome.

The Art-House Gems: 3-5

Following up the top two, Right Near the Beach, Verde, and Black Mexicans were three great art-house films that should be welcome at film festivals worldwide. I’m particularly excited to see what the debut filmmakers behind the first two do next.

Popular Films Done Well: 6-10

Kings of Mulberry Street and Granma Nineteen and the Soviet’s Secret were two entertaining coming of age stories that all audiences should be able to appreciate. Redemption and Desrances were two thrillers set in bad times – the former an ex-con struggling with a corrupt system and the latter set in a post-revolution post-apocalyptic Cote d’Ivoire. Lastly, Bigman Wahala was the best mainstream comedy that I saw at PAFF, sparked by the rapport between the two main characters.

The Not So Good: 11-14

Subira was the best of the rest, but it was let down by an un-empowering and cheesy story-line. Gonarezhou: The Movie, Ekoua, and Kijiji Changu all suffered from a lack of production quality and the lack of a well thought out script.

The Short Films

In contrast to the feature films at PAFF, the short films from the Pan African and Films in Paradise short series were consistently good. Here’s our rankings for what we saw:

Conclusion

If you live in Los Angeles, you need to add PAFF to your film festival calendar. It’s schedule of African and Black film is unparalleled in the United States. The programmers also obviously made an effort to seek out films from debut filmmakers. Their risks paid off, as there were a bunch of gems that I wouldn’t have had the chance to see otherwise. So put in some effort and come to PAFF in 2021.

Redemption – Pan African Film Festival 2020

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.

Head to our Pan African Film Festival Hub for more reviews and short films from the Pan African Film Festival 2020.

The Mercy of the Jungle – Pan African Film Festival 2020

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.

Head to our Pan African Film Festival Hub for more reviews and short films from the Pan African Film Festival 2020.