Battle of Algiers is brilliant. If you want to feel like you’re part of the revolution against colonialism, this is the closest you can get. Shot on location in Algiers and using non-actors, it’s one of the first and best examples of cinéma vérité – a film that feels like a real documentary. So dive in and experience both sides of this war – the French colonizers and the Algerian freedom fighters. You’ll come out a more enlightened revolutionary.
Do you want to see one of Africa’s best films from the 20th Century? Set aside 55 minutes to watch Black Girl below (please comment if the video is not working). Don’t let film scholars be the only ones to have seen this incredible film as this should be seen by everyone.
Why Watch Black Girl?
It’s short: it will only take 55 minutes of your time!
It features a strong female character
The best pieces of art are completed quickly. Black Girl was made in 20 days
Examine the legacy of colonialism
The Breakdown
Ousmane Sembene’s Black Girl starts with a big passenger ship arriving at a port in France. A finely dressed black woman, Diouana, leaves the boat wondering if anyone will be there to pick her up. Sure enough a white man greets her, takes her bags, and drives her off. After a few jump cuts in the car ride (a style made famous in Breathless by Jean-Luc Godard) she arrives at a house on the French Riviera.
The opening suggests Diouana is here to meet her friends. Because of her nice dress and the white driver meeting her, it initially appears that she shares equal status with the white French people. However, as soon as she enters the apartment, it becomes clear that she does not share the same freedoms as her employers. She is kept in the apartment all day, every day to clean and cook and never ventures out because she never gets paid and is never introduced to anyone (which is always helpful when you don’t speak the language). As a result, she is almost a slave.
What’s the significance of the African mask?
To get to know the film a little better, look out for the African mask. It first appears in the film when Diouana buys it from a small boy from her neighbourhood in Senegal. She then gifts it to her employer who first question it’s authenticity (‘it looks like the real thing’) and then hang it on one of their blank white walls in their apartment in France.
Firstly, the mask initially signifies equality between Diouana and her employer. The act of gifting implies that you share an equal standing with the person you give to. Initially, because of the gifting, Diouana is equal to her employer. However, when her employers dismiss the mask as a fake, they imply that Diouana cannot afford a real mask and therefore she is not on the same level as them.
Secondly, the mask is a metaphor for Diouana’s isolation in France. Like the mask hanging in the middle of a blank wall, she is alone and out of place in French society.
Lastly, the mask is a symbol of the misappropriation of African culture. In Africa the mask is alive as the young boy is shot playing with it and wearing it. However, in France, the mask is dead. In France, the mask has been reduced to an ‘exotic’ artifact which sits on a wall as a trophy of Diouana’s employer’s exoticism. It allows her employers to temporarily ‘play’ their ‘connection’ to African ‘exoticism’ without experiencing any of the discrimination they perpetrate. Just like a fancy dress that they can take off whenever they want.
Narration as a symbol of post-colonialism
When watching Black Girl you’ll notice that whilst Diouana doesn’t speak French, all her thoughts are narrated in French. Her consciousness has been taken over by a language that isn’t her own. She can’t physically speak French and therefore become equal to the French speakers in France, but she can think in French. In fact, French is the only language she actually thinks in via the narration.
This is symbolic of the legacy of French colonialism in Africa (in this case, Senegal). Although Senegal achieved it’s independence from France a few years before this film was made, by restricting Diouana’s consciousness to French Sembene emphasises the parasitic legacy of colonialism. The colonisers colonised Senegal and replaced it’s native culture with it’s own and disrupted Senegalese consciousness in the process.
Conclusion
There’s so much more to say! Simply put, Sembene’s Black Girl packs a lot into just under an hour. If it’s not being studied at schools across the world, it should be. Everyone needs to watch this film!
If you haven’t seen it, you’re in luck. Watch it here on YouTube!
Midnight Traveler is the ultimate first hand account of a family fleeing across Western Asia and Eastern Europe from death threats received in their home country Afghanistan. Because the filmmaker has made movies deemed immoral by the Taliban, he and his families safety is in danger. After having requests for asylum denied by Western countries, the Fazili family are forced to try their luck at migrating to the safety of Europe. However, little do they know that the the troubles and prejudices will increase when they hit Europe. Through the cell phone footage of their journey, you’ll get a idea for what it feels like to no longer have a home and to be criminalized for trying to escape death. If you’re a citizen of a country whose citizens don’t live in fear, consider yourself lucky, and spare a thought and 88 minutes to join the Fazili family in their quest for a normal life.
In Right Near the Beach, Jeffrey Jacobs, Jamaica’s world record breaking sprinter is beaten to death near his home. His murder sparks a frenzy of media coverage that digs into his friendship with a gay man. Jeffrey’s single father becomes a social pariah because of the reaction to his son’s death, living alone in the hills. It’s only when his youngest son returns that he is given a chance to transcend his isolation and grief.
Right Near the Beach tells its story effectively through the images and sounds it presents. Firstly, the film develops Terrence Malick’s visual style to create a more visceral feeling. Right Near the Beach still has the trademark wandering camera and meditative shots familiar to Malick’s films, but adds a varying shot length to better convey the varying emotions Jeffrey’s dad feels.
For most of the film, the average spot length feels longer than your typical Hollywood film. This gives the audience more time to watch the characters as they wander in rural Jamaica alone, allowing us to feel their search for inner peace. However, for a few key scenes, the emotional toll of the media and neighborhood gossip is too much for them and they release their frustration in sin scenes with frantically fast cutting. The quick shots that rapidly cut around Jeffrey’s dad when he starts axing a tree root creates an urgent feeling of blind rage that contrasts with the otherwise relaxed feelings generated by the longer shots. It’s one example of how the filmmakers brilliantly use shot lengths to change the feelings of each scene.
Secondly, the sound of Right Near the Beach provides the foundation for the visual experimentation. In the first half of the film, the soundtrack is dominated by a constant stream of radio show interviews with people discussing Jeffrey Jacobs’ homosexuality. The real homophobia you hear on air (these interviews were conducted with real Jamaicans) penetrates the silence of the rural area Jeffrey’s father lives. What he hears forces him deeper into isolation just to try and silence the country’s prejudice. This changes in the second half of the film, when the prejudiced voices that plague him start to ease after his youngest son’s arrival. They’re replaced by more natural sounds from the rural environment they live in, marking his successful coming to terms with his eldest son’s death. It’s as if he’s managed to meditate away the hateful media and replace it with a calm peace of mind. Just as the visceral visual style builds emotions, the sounds we hear guide us through Jeffrey’s dad’s grief.
To take the film full circle, the filmmakers end the film with the reunion of the dad and his youngest son. It’s a touching end to an emotional film that shows they have both transcended the deaths of their brother/son and mother/wife.
Right Near the Beach manages to accomplish a lot. Firstly, the editing and cinematography work incredibly well with the soundscape to depict the character’s raw emotion and path to overcoming their grief. Secondly, the full circle script gives the film a spiritual completeness that many films fail to achieve. But, that’s not all. Right Near the Beach also touches on the prejudice in Jamaica and how the country is largely overlooked internationally except for beaches and running (hence the ironic title). I’m excited to see more from these filmmakers.
The Silence of the Forest is a modern take of the white savior trope in Africa. However, instead of featuring a white European, there’s a Central African black man, Gonaba, who returns home from Paris to help modernize his country. The problem is, just like the Africans didn’t need the Europeans, the Pygmy people that he tries to civilize, don’t need him.
Gonaba returns home dressed in a suit, signifying his connection to the western word. He’s called a white man by the boat’s captain, because compared to the rest of the locals on the boat, he’s overdressed. Whilst he obviously isn’t white, it’s the first sign that he’s lost his connection to the people of the Central African Republic and will never be able to truly see life from the African perspective again.
A few years later, Gonaba is one of the country’s leading ministers. Problem is, he still feels like he hasn’t achieved what he set out to do; help the country he returned to. The country is still keeping the population distracted from poverty with Independence Day parades and bike races and not trying to implement positive change. His disillusion with the direction of his country is marked by his dull khaki dress. His attempts to westernize the country have failed, so why should he wear a suit like the rest of the ministers, a symbol of Western success.
So, to restart his mission, Gonaba chooses to fight for the rights of the Pygmy people. They’re looked down upon by everyone else, who treat them like animals. The President even tells Gonaba that they’re just a ‘tourist attraction for the country to exploit’. Gonaba, having studied Jean Jacques Roussea in France wants them to be seen as equal. However, instead of changing the minds of the people he knows, he goes on a white savior mission into the jungle to educate and civilize them.
Like Dances With Wolves, Pocahantas, and Avatar, Gonaba heads into the wilderness and becomes a honorary member of the indigenous Pygmy society. Trouble is, like previous white savior films, he never sees the indigenous people as equal to himself. He never accepts them and their culture for what it is, seeking instead to civilize them up to his standards of modern society. He still views their way of life as backward and something he can change to create modern pygmy men and women that can integrate into African and Global society. Ironically, the way he treats them is just a repeat of the good-intentioned European colonists’ treatment of African people a few decades before.
Unfortunately, The Silence of the Forest is as heavy handed as it’s American predecessors. It’s interesting to see the white savior narrative used in a purely African film, but because it hits all the same tropes as previous films, it doesn’t feel new or unique. It also fetishes the lives of the indigenous pygmy people. Their lives are portrayed as idyllic and at one with nature, as you would have seen in Dances with Wolves and Avatar. They’re never portrayed from their own perspective. Instead of immersing ourselves in their way of life, The Silence of the Forest gives us a voyeuristic glimpse of a world through the eyes of a do-good African. It creates a world that feels separate from our society, a world that we dangerously can’t imagine existing or disappearing from the modern world we live in.
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