Felicite Film Difficulty Ranking: 4

Want to truly get involved in a film? In Felicite you are given the story-line and a bit of character development before you are almost left to your own devices. Like the great works of literature, you’ll have to add your own interpretations to draw your own conclusions. Also, there’s one thing that this film has over the great works of literature: the music!

Why Watch Felicite?
  • If you like music. The Kasai Allstars are all over this film!
  • To experience the chaos of Kinshasa
  • To take part in the film making process – like in the best pieces of literature, you’ll get to add your own interpretations
  • Come on, how many opportunities do you get to watch great film from the DRC?
The Breakdown

The film starts with Beya singing in a dusty bar in Kinshasa. The bar is small, the lighting is dim, and locals are clustered around tables drinking and catching up. As the locals drink and chat Beya puts crams everything into her voice. It’s like she’s trying everything to get everyone’s attention, to stand out in chaotic bar in a chaotic city.

Music is the driving force of Felicite. There’s the expressive, more free form music of the Kasai Allstars and Beya, and the structured symphony orchestra. The structured orchestral music signifies the moments of our lives that we cannot control: fate. It appears when Beya’s son is hospitalised and for other events out of her control. In contrast, the bluesy music of the Kasai Allstars signifies Beya’s response to fate. The melancholic emotion she puts into her singing is her acceptance of her fate and inability to control it.

The film is split into two parts. The first part is told in a classical format that all of us brought up on Hollywood films would recognise. You learn a bit about Beya, then her son is hospitalised, so she has to try and find money to pay for the treatment. It’s pretty familiar storytelling. In contrast, the second part is a lot more artistic and subjective. There’s some visions and dreams mixed into all the music. Unlike in part one where we can just accept what is shown to us, in part two we have to actively engage with the film and construct our own interpretations.

Image result for felicite

Conclusion

Felicite is a work of art. Not in the sense that all movies are works of art, but in the sense that it pushes the boundaries of film. It is a champion of creativity, and uses music, and art (through the visions and dreams) to create a much more unique film. Best of all, unlike a lot of films, you are expected to take part in the film making process and add your own meaning.

A lot of places in the world you can’t just do what you want to do. In Jamaica it’s a lot like that. And I use that as a positive motivation to get me to pursue it and achieve it.

Shama

Outdeh follows three young men (Shama, Bakersteez, and Romar) in their quest to try and make something of their lives. They all want to do something new to build a platform for the next generation. Shama is the first professional surfer from the island, Bakersteez is trying to forge a career as a rapper from a country dominated by dancehall stars such as Popcaan, whilst Romar is trying to make it out of one of the islands most notorious ghettoes by playing football. They’re all going for their dreams because no other path has been cleared for them. And they all want to prove that their dreams are achievable.

The first thing that draws you into Outdeh is the idyllic slow motion shots of the island backed by the Jamaican soundtrack. It captures a musical-esque utopia that we are happy to be immersed in. There’s the ocean waves which Shama effortlessly glides through in front of empty Sandy beaches. There’s also shots of Shama carelessly skateboarding through city streets, dancing in front of cars as if he’s invincible. Then there’s shots of Romar playing football with a large group of guys from the neighbourhood. It doesn’t look like he has any worries even though we hear that he has to beg for money to eat from the neighbourhood boss. The evidence of an unhappy life is only spoken about, leaving the slow motion shots to show the utopian side of the idyllic island they live on. It’s a sign of a hopeful, positive future.

You’ll also be drawn in by the laid back characters of Bakersteez and Shama which hide a restless energy. Despite saying he gets nervous before his gigs, Bakersteez always appears completely confident and in control of his life’s direction. Shama is no different. Even though he’s the first professional surfer from Jamaica, he doesn’t even act like it’s a big thing, it’s just something he’s picked up for followed what he loves to do. Like Bakersteez, even though they’re forging new paths for a new generation, he never appears flustered or out of place.

The future looks bright for these three in Outdeh and the youth of Jamaica.


Head to our Santa Barbara International Film Festival Hub for more reviews from the Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2020.

Mirzya Film Difficulty Ranking: 2

We’ve already reviewed The Lunchbox and Talvar from the India, the country that makes the most movies per year. Watch Mirzya for something different. It has a lot more of the classic Bollywood film than the other two, with more music and more drama and plenty of style. It is also currently available on Netflix, so check out the trailer below and enjoy!

Why Watch Mirzya?
  • You don’t have to settle for one genre as this film is an epic, fantasy, romantic, thriller, with a few musical numbers!
  • For some Punjabi Indian mythology
  • See some epic cinematography (reminiscent of 300)
  • You want to see a Shakespeare adaptation set in India
The Breakdown

A camera descends on a small town illuminated by fires in the night. The camera swoops into a small imperial residence built from marble, where a blacksmith is working with his daughter. From there, the camera dives into the pit of embers and emerges outside where workers are rhythmically bashing their hammers on iron wheels in slow motion. This is our magical entry point into Mirzya.

From the introduction, the narrative splits into two. The main narrative follows the life of Munish and Suchitra whilst the second narrative follows the mythical Mirza and Sahiban. These two narratives mirror each other for the film.

The style of the mythical scenes will remind you of the style of 300 or . Whilst there is colour, the colours appear pastel-like and very bright to create high contrasts. These scenes also include a lot of slow motion footage showing water droplets falling from characters. Check the epic slow motion scenes here in The Grandmaster for an idea.

Style and mirrored narratives aside, this story also shows the rich/poor divide in India. The poor work menial jobs to serve their rich masters. Meanwhile, the rich live in imperial palaces, play polo, and dress in fancy suits. Instead of rival families, the romance in this film plays across social boundaries.

Conclusion

Mirzya’s mythical foundation creates the magic behind this film. However, the importance of myths is not explored as deeply as in Song of the Sea or Whale Rider. Instead, what’s cool about this film is the style of the mythical sequences and the musical numbers. This is what makes Miryza truly unique and worth watching.

Ayinla

Ayinla is inspired by the life of Apala music legend Ayinla Omowura. Set in 1970s Abeokuta, the film charts his rise in the local, national, and international music scenes and the tribulations and ultimate tragedy that accompany his fiery character.

Whilst this film is a dramatized story about Ayinla, it starts with a number of home-video style interviews from local politicians and his friends. These are all real people talking, not actors, and their interviews are used to set up the importance of Ayinla. He’s an artist whose renown never hit the astronomical highs of Fela Kuti or King Sunny Ade, but with these interviews and the dramatized story of his life, director, and fellow Abeokuta resident, Tunde Kelani shows he’s worthy of international recognition.

The highlight of Ayinla is the music. Whilst not all of the lyrics are subtitled, you can tell that Ayinla was a playful and political lyricist from the songs that are. They’re all cut into the movie pretty smoothly and give the film the star soundtrack to promote his legacy. Kelani also shoots Abeokuta beautifully, making it appear to be a picturesque tropical city with greenery and Ulumo Rock dominating the drone shots. Another plus is that the entire film is shot in Yoruba, staying true to the region the film is based in, instead of opting for English in an attempt to appeal to an international audience.

The only downsides of this movie is that it doesn’t feel complete. It feels more like a bunch of episodes of Ayinla’s life that have been pieced together. The only thin plot-line is that of Ayinla preparing for his trip to London, but even this only begins to guide the story in the final part of the movie. As pointed out by Vivian Nneka Nwajiaku for afrocritik the film also introduces a lot of plot points that are never developed – such as Ayinla’s pregnant wife. Luckily the music for the most part covers up for the lack of plot.

For anyone into Nigerian music, or biopic style movies on making it in the music industry, Ayinla is worth a watch. It’s a decent tribute to both Ayinla Omowura and Abeokuta, the colorful city that both the director and the music star share.


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

By Sebastian Torrelio

Hero

Jung Sung-hwa has led a historical charge forward in this role for a significant portion of his life thus far. Hero claims to be the first motion picture fully adapted in South Korea from a native Korean musical, Jung’s portrayal of nationalist Ahn Jung-geun transitioning alongside the source. He does take the liberties of transformation to heart with such a brutalist narrative – recreating the personal strokes that took Ahn through the final period of his life, leading into the assassination of Japanese Prime Minister Ito Hirobumi.

Songs string along the first half of Hero, inspirational operatic breaks that never coax the outlying direction too disruptively. Even so, some numbers arise organically into a splendid vigor more emotional than stage-play standards can suffice. One showstopping tune from Kim Go-eun’s Seol-hee, a ringer played from a lady-in-waiting’s heart, ushers a dark inner turmoil to an otherwise prosperous Japanese regime. Many of the musical’s segments resonate in patriotic uproars more energetic in their war-like definition than anything reminiscent of mid-century Broadway.

This largely complement’s Hero while it initially paces out character introductions within the resistance with sillier odes to the delicious nature of dumplings, and how unity can come at the hands of a warm reunion over rations. Though by film’s second half, political record overwhelms Yoon’s balance, tone and historical relevance wrying Ahn’s every action into plot-driven forcefulness.

The brutality of the circumstance is hard to overlook, especially for a picture that opens with sacrificial appendage-severing amid a musically-snowbound group pledge. Romance, comedy, drama and heart-struck drumbeats deal out with synchronicity, levity like a forward-marching parade navigating the plot’s inevitable coup d’etat direction by intoxicating overcompensation into emotional suffering.

At least Hero cannot speak to be too uninteresting or slow for such a direct-to-nationalism Korean anniversary effort. Imperialism portrayed as undercover scheme-brokering alongside musical courtroom trial pleas is not necessarily something that can be easily indulged from a one-off Netflix selection. Such consistency in the film’s thespian roots unfortunately cannot hold cohesively to a country wanting to invoke and demand so much of its theatrical devotees.

Seen at CGV Cinemas LA