From: Benin, Africa Watch: Trailer, JustWatch, Hoopla, Kanopy, Tubi, Amazon Prime Next: Batuque, Golden Fish, African Fish, N!aiContinue reading “In Search of Voodoo – An Educational Documentary of Voodoo Culture”
From: Comoros, Africa Watch: YouTube, AlJazeera Next: Batuque, In Search of Voodoo, Flesh Out
How can you tell that The Grand Marriage is a made for TV documentary? Well, besides from the obvious signs: that it’s made by a TV news network (Al Jazeera), and fits into an hour long TV segment with room for a small commercial break in the middle, you can also tell in the way that it’s made. For example, it starts with an opening introductory montage of shots from scenes to come later in the film. It’s there to try and grab the attention of any TV viewers currently watching the network in an attempt to get them to stay to watch the whole show. The content is also aimed at the armchair traveler. Just as the opening montage gives viewers a flavor of the documentary to come, the informative content is designed to appeal to viewers interested in world news and culture: those likely to be on the Al Jazeera channel. The level of detail and specificity is not necessarily something that viewers would otherwise directly seek out at the cinema or on streaming services.
One thing that makes The Grand Marriage standout versus other TV documentaries, is that it’s told completely by the locals. There’s no narrator, and therefore no one serving as a mediator to translate the locals words into something more palatable to our own customs. It allows the Comoran people to present their customs and culture from their own point of view, unchallenged by a foreign perspective. We’re the only one who can judge and interpret them. That being said, that does not mean that the documentary is completely free of bias. It could be that the people speaking are all from a particular class or background that gives us a less rounded view of Comoran culture. The groom, for example is a former government minister. But it does give the locals the power to represent themselves.
The Grand Marriage is worth a watch because it gives viewers an insight into Comoran culture through one of it’s biggest cultural customs. The grand marriages are the status builders of Comoran society. Plus they involve a lost of Comoran society – as you can see from the incredible number of attendees. The documentary doesn’t just show the main event, but all the preparatory ceremonies that go with it. It also gathers a range of voices to comment on the ceremony, from the bride and groom to be themselves, to the whole community involved to give a balanced perspective. So if you’re interested in learning a bit about Comoran culture, this is a good film to start with.
If you want to watch more cultural documentaries from Africa, check out Batuque, a look at music from the Cape Verde islands. You could also check out In Search of Voodoo from Benin, which looks at the west African voodoo culture.
Or if you’d like to see some more films centered around marriage, check out Saudi Runaway, featuring a Saudi girl trying to escape from an arranged marriage, or Flesh Out, featuring a Mauritanian woman bulking up for her groom.
From: East Timor, Asia Watch: Trailer, Website, IMDb Next: First They Killed My Father, The Look of Silence, The Rocket
As mentioned in the opening scenes of Beatriz’s War, East Timor was a Portuguese colony until 1975 when the Revolutionary Front for an Independent East Timor (Fretilin) declared independence. However, their independence was short lived, as Indonesian forces invaded 9 days later to take control of the entire island. Indonesia then occupied East Timor for 24 years until East Timor finally regained its independence in 1999.
Beatriz’s War takes place over the 24 years of the Indonesian occupation. It depicts the violence of the Indonesian occupation as well as the fragmented East Timorese resistance happening around Beatriz.
Beatriz is both strong and independent. She’s married off in the opening scenes as a young girl but due to the gentle nature of her young husband, she’s always in control. Like her father, the leader of the community, we’re always led to believe that she’s more likely to take a stand and join the fight against the Indonesians than her husband.
However, her strength seems to turn to stubbornness in the second half of the film when her gentle husband disappears in a massacre. Her community mourns the losses of the men and children killed by Indonesian forces, but she stubbornly refuses to believe that her husband is truly dead. She also never accepts her new reality, trying to maintain her old way of life by abiding by traditions. Her stubborn denial is a sign of the trauma caused by the violent occupation.
Martin Guerre was a French peasant from the 16th century who was at the center of a famous case of imposture. Several years after he left his wife and child, a man claiming to be him appeared and tricked his wife and son for three years before he was eventually found out. His story has been dramatized many times for film and TV over the years and is also inserted into the second half of Beatriz’s War after the departure of the Indonesian occupiers to emphasize the length of the occupation.
Primarily, the adaptation gives Beatriz’s War a lot of melodrama. It sets of a battle of emotions between Beatriz and her community as to the origin of a man who arrives in their community 20 years later claiming to be Beatriz’s husband. If you can get past the melodrama, the inclusion of the Martin Guerre story also highlights the impact of the long Indonesian occupation. Whilst the occupation physically destroyed a generation, the length of the occupation also helped to mentally blur a generation. With no photos, Beatriz’s image of her husband has faded over 20 years to a point where she can no longer recognize him. The long, traumatic occupation enabled the Martin Guerre story to happen.
First They Killed My Father feels like the closest film to Beatriz’s War. Both films follow a girl who sees their country occupied by an opposing force. Both films show the occupation and the genocides that go with it. However, whilst First they Killed My Father focuses on a girl’s perspective, Beatriz’s War takes place over 25 years.
For more films about the atrocities committed by Indonesians, check out Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentaries: The Look of Silence and The Act of Killing. Both documentaries look at the free-living leaders of Indonesian death squad that were responsible for killing hundreds of thousands of innocent Indonesians. The Look of Silence even gets the perpetrators to act out how they did it, with the killers slowly coming to realize the grotesque crimes they’ve committed.
Or if you’re looking for more stories from South East Asia featuring kids in coming-of-age stories, check out The Rocket from Laos and Golden Kingdom from Myanmar.
Piedra Sola, like Notturno (one of the other films at this year’s AFI Fest), is beautifully shot. Set in the hamlet of Condor in the northern highlands of Argentina, it contains a lot of otherworldly landscapes and local ceremonies that look unusual to foreign eyes.
However, the exceptional images hint at a higher meaning that isn’t really decipherable in the film. For example, there’s the opening shot of a horse with its two front legs tied, hopping over a rocky hill at dawn. It’s a striking image, and beautifully captured in low light conditions, but it’s not clear how it fits into the narrative of Piedra Sola. The horse never reappears and doesn’t have too much of an impact on how we perceive the film, except to create intrigue. That’s not to say the film needs to have a narrative – it doesn’t – however, the scenes don’t feel like they all come together to unlock the mystery that they each contain. It feels more like a collection of sublime images than something complete.
This also comes across in the focus of the film, the lama herder. We see him go travel to a nearby town to sell his wares and get involved in the local festival, but beyond that we don’t have much of an understanding of him. It’s made vaguely aware that his livestock is being attacked by a puma, but it’s never clear if this is imagined, real, or an allegory for something else. His silence and emotionless face don’t give away any of his feelings either way. He is as mysterious as the collection of images that make up Piedra Sola.
His lack of agency also comes across as a bit problematic. Combined with his silence and lack of emotion, it presents another image of the passive Latin American indigenous person. Like Cleo in Roma and Justino in The Fever (two more films directed by non-indigenous directors), things happen to the lama herder that he quietly reacts to. Instead of initiating things himself, he only responds to things around him, which makes him seem a bit characterless.
There’s also the exoticization of the isolated Andean community. The director, Alejandro Telemaco Tarraf beautifully captures the ceremonies and the hamlet, but he also others it. The unique culture is viewed with a gaze that highlights the differences between the highland culture of Argentina from the city culture of Buenos Aires. It makes their culture seem a bit rustic and old fashioned, situating the community as if it exists in another world and time.
If you’re looking for a beautifully shot, esoteric movie set in the remote highlands of Argentina, you’ll love Piedra Sola. However, the mystery in the images and narrative make it hard to access, whilst the exoticization and passivization of the portrayals of the remote community make it hard to love.
Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.
Despite a 20 year ban on making or directing movies imposed on him in 2010, Jafar Panahi continues to make films. No Bears is the fifth feature film Panahi has made since the ban, and is probably his most political. The not one, but two films in No Bears are an attack on the hypocrisies of censorship and freedom of movement.
Now that Panahi has proved the house arrest and ban on film-making cannot stop him from making films, he’s been encouraged to make something even more inflammatory – an almost direct critique of the government and of laws against the freedom of movement. In No Bears, Panahi deliberately flaunts all of the rules that have been imposed on him. Firstly, he’s directing one film, and starring in another, breaking his filmmaking ban once again. Secondly, he shows he can make films from wherever he wants – he’s relaxing in a rural village near the border and directing his film crew in another country, as well as making a film in the village where he is staying. Thirdly, he’s creating new filmmakers – both in his cameraman shooting his film in Turkey and in the people he hands off his camera to in the village. Lastly, he also shows he can go wherever he wants. He goes right up to the Turkish border as if it’s nothing. All of these things deliberately flaunt his power in spite of the government’s restrictions on him. He proves that they’ll never silence him from making films, whether that’s in Iran or outside it, with him behind the camera or having inspired someone else.
On top of this, Panahi also sets up two films within No Bears to criticize the government and the culture is has fostered. One is a film within a film, following the story of a couple in Turkey that have finally found fake passports on the black market to leave the country. This narrative highlights the discrimination in freedom of movement – granted to certain people because of birth lottery, and hidden from others. The other follows Panahi himself, as he works on this film from a rural Iranian village along the Turkish border. The longer he stays, the more entangled he becomes in the backward customs of the town. This narrative serves as an analogy for the hypocrisies of the Iranian government and censorship committees. Just as they imposed filmmaking bans on him instead of looking to solve the problems he highlights in his films, the villagers choose to make him a scapegoat for their own feuds.
For a film that holds no punches in attacking censorship and freedom of movement, Panahi’s latest is a joy to watch. It’s filled with a dry humor that pokes fun of the establishment whilst retaining a serious message. Just as much as this, No Bears is also a testament to the filmmaking drive of Jafar Panahi. No matter how many restrictions are imposed against him, he’s continued to make films and inspire others. We hope he, and the Iranian filmmakers imprisoned with him earlier this year will be released and the filmmaking bans rescinded.
Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.
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