The Case for Global Film

Discussing everything that isn’t Hollywood (and a little that is).

Archive for the ‘African Cinema’ Category

Skin (UK/South Africa 2008)

Posted by venicelion on 7 September 2009

Sandra Laing (left) with Sophie Okonedo and Ella Ramangwane who play her as child and adult.

Sandra Laing (left) with Sophie Okonedo and Ella Ramangwane who play her as child and adult.

I wasn’t really prepared for this film. I was expecting a small-scale drama set in the apartheid era. I knew the film had struggled to get distribution and my hopes weren’t high. On the other hand, I wanted to support a South African film. If I’d thought about it a little more, I would have remembered reading/listening to an interview with Sophie Okonedo and I might have been less surprised. The film is based on the true story of Sandra Laing: Sophie Okonedo with her Nigerian-Jewish background obviously felt strongly for Sandra.

What I was lucky to see, in one of the film’s few cinema screenings so far, was a great melodrama which was highly engaging and very affecting with extremely fine performances all round. My partner was amazed to learn that the film is only showing in a few places as she thought it was a mainstream film that would please audiences everywhere. I’m struck by the similarities between the distribution of the film and the similar fate that befell another biopic about a brave young woman, Sophie Scholl – more on this later. First an outline of the story, without giving too much away.

Outline (no spoilers)

The story begins with Sandra Laing as a young girl of 9 or 10 who is being driven to the boarding school in South Africa where her older brother is already a student. Sandra has so far been schooled at home in the bush where her parents run a general store. She has been a happy girl in a caring environment and starting school is a shock to her. This is 1965 and the apartheid system is in full operation. Sandra’s parents are Afrikaners and so she is officially ‘white’. But Sandra does not look like the other children in the school. Her appearance suggests that her background is mixed race which under apartheid means that she should be classified as ‘Coloured’ (one of four racial groups defined by the apartheid system). When the other parents object to her presence, a battle ensues between Sandra’s father, a stubborn man who insists that she is ‘white’, the school and eventually the apartheid authorities who are called in to make a ruling.

The film plot actually begins in 1994 on the first day of free elections in the new ‘Rainbow Nation’ of South Africa. Sandra is a woman of 40 working in a factory when the TV reporters arrive to discover that the end of apartheid has come too late for her. For thirty years, the stupidity (not to mention the immorality) of apartheid has caused Sandra and her family great pain. If this makes it sound that the story told in flashback will be unremittingly bleak, take heart. As the image above attests, there is a more hopeful end to a story that contains both joy and despair.

Commentary

In generic terms I would place the film as a melodrama. As usual, the critics refer to melodrama in pejorative terms (“the film skirts melodrama . . . , . . . doesn’t fall into melodrama” etc.) But here is a CinemaScope feature with use of landscape and mise en scène and some heavy symbolism (Sandra’s comfort object as a child is a large doll with golden hair). There is an emotional score that reminded me at times of the ‘realist melodramas’ associated with Rossellini. The camerawork is actually quite conventional and the film doesn’t have a particular style (causing the usual problems for some critics who seem to think that a lack of obvious stylistic features means that it is a ‘made for TV’ movie). The sheer emotional content of the story forces the actors into what I would term ‘melodrama mode’ and it is this and the musical score that contrasts with some of the scenes which deal with the bureaucratic nightmares of the apartheid system (and post-apartheid bureaucracy) which suggest melodrama most strongly – and which otherwise might have pushed the film towards ’social realism’. I should say that there are also some very funny moments in the script which again relieve the sense of trudging through a ’social issue narrative’.

The film is also a melodrama because it focuses specifically on the emotional relationships between Sandra and her mother and father and the ’significant others’ in her life (not to give away the plot). Although this is a true story (with some fictionalised additions) it isn’t a conventional biopic. There are plenty of things about Sandra’s life that we don’t see, instead her ’story’ becomes the basis of a specific emotional drama about identity.

Reading some of the audience comments from the very well-received screenings at the 2008 Toronto Film Festival, I can see that I wasn’t the only one weeping through much of the last third of the film. The audience in Bradford was a good one for a film with so little publicity and I got the impression that they were as taken with the film as we were – which begs the question, “Why did no major distributor want to take on the film?”

As well as the truly wonderful Sophie Okonedo (surely up for more awards on the strength of this performance), the film stars Sam Neill as the father. These are two known Hollywood names you would expect would help to get the film a release. Screen International has suggested that recent South African apartheid-set stories (such as Goodbye Bafana, 2007) have been viewed as box-office poison. The background to Skin is quite different to that of recent Hollywood excursions into South Africa. Writer/director Anthony Fabian has been determined to make the story of Sandra Laing’s experiences for some time. He’s a UK-based director, born in the US and brought up in Mexico and France. I realise that I first became aware of him through one of his documentaries, Township Opera (2002) which he made for BBC4. The story of an opera group from the South African townships and its eventual success in giving London performances was most enjoyable. That film was a joint production between the BBC and Fabian’s own company Elysian Films.

Skin appears to be a completely independent production between Elysian and some smaller South African companies. There is a good deal of background on the very useful Elysian Films website. If you want to find out how the film got made, I highly recommend the site. It also offers a short film about the real Sandra and shows extracts from the ‘promo film’ that Fabian made as part of the sales pitch for the film. As with the Sophie Scholl film I mentioned earlier, the theatrical rights to Skin were bought by ICA Projects which has released the film on just two or three prints (the poor quality digital print we saw was, I assume, not a true representation of the 35mm original). The Elysian Films website lists showings at one cinema per week through to October in various venues, some quite small. I obviously support the rights of people in Tewkesbury to see the film, but Skin should be available in every UK city – it’s a film that deserves to be seen. It’s quite ironic that it should get a limited release just as District 9 hits UK cinemas. I suspect I’m one of the few people to see both films in a two week period.

Posted in African Cinema, British Cinema, Melodrama | Tagged: | 1 Comment »

Chocolat (Fra/WGer/Cameroon 1988)

Posted by venicelion on 31 August 2009

The family, France, her mother Aimée and father Marc. Does the composition suggest that Aimée ad Marc are not necessarily that close?

The family, France, her mother Aimée and father Marc. Does the composition suggest that Aimée and Marc are not necessarily that close?

Everyone I have spoken too since the release of 35 Rhums has said what a fine piece of filmmaking it is and for me it is the best film I’ve seen this year. It has made me more determined to see the rest of Claire Denis’ work.

I remember when Chocolat was released, but not why I didn’t see it at the time. I was surprised to see on IMDB that it made over $2 million at the box office in North America. But then I think there was a vogue around that time for films set in Africa (Out of Africa was a big hit in 1985). The responses suggest that people who did see Chocolat were often disappointed or confused. That doesn’t surprise me, but it is also good to see that there are several perceptive and fascinating reviews of the film (see below). Having watched the whole film now on DVD (having seen only extracts before) it strikes me that Claire Denis arrived as a filmmaker ‘fully formed’ with her first feature at age 40. Chocolat was quite clearly made by the same filmmaker who directed L’intrus and 35 Rhums. Of course, Denis was not a neophyte – she had served a long apprenticeship to directors such as Costa-Gavras and Wim Wenders (whose company helped produce Chocolat).

I can tell you about the content of the film since there is little in the way of plot or narrative in the conventional mainstream sense. As in the other films by Denis that I have seen, things happen, some of them surprising or shocking but they don’t occur in a classic cause-effect structure with a clear narrative resolution. Chocolat begins with a young, white woman on a remote tropical beach as she watches a black man and his small son splashing through the shallows. As she is walking away from the beach, the man drives up and offers her a lift. The main part of the film is then constructed as a single long flashback in which the woman, named ‘France’ remembers her childhood as the daughter of a French colonial official administering a remote region of Northern Cameroon. The little girl spends much of her time with the ‘houseboy’ Protée, a tall, strong and very beautiful young man in his twenties who is caught in a kind of no-man’s land between the house and the servant’s quarters, being neither fully ‘French’ or fully ‘African’. He is representative of the impact of colonialism and the crisis of identity. France’s father Marc is often away from the big house and an uneasy relationship exists between France’s mother Aimée (also young and beautiful) and Protée (and the other servants).

The ‘external incident’ that stirs up the household in the second half of the film is a forced landing by a French plane carrying a colonial official from another district and his new (French) wife, a planter and his female (African) servant. The plane needs a spare part in order to continue its journey and this will take several weeks to deliver. It is also necessary to prepare a runway for take-off and there is the problem that any runway will not be usable if the rains come, so there is a time pressure. The disruption also attracts another French couple and a team of African labourers amongst whom is Luc, a ‘rogue’ Frenchman who seems to be travelling across the territory and whose function in the narrative appears to be to challenge the sense of ‘order’ in the community. With all these new arrivals, there is bound to be conflict in the household. There is also a short coda in which the grown-up France has another brief exchange with the man from the beach.

If the above sounds like the plot of a colonial melodrama, it is and it isn’t. These are the elements of the colonial melodrama (which usually explores a charged emotional relationship across the taboo boundary line of coloniser/colonised) but here Denis uses the possibilities of combining the elements in a different way. The theme of the film is still sexual desire and the consequences of colonial power relationships, but not expressed through melodramatic excess. (I have commented on an extract from Chocolat used by Rona on our evening class in an earlier post.)

I’ve left out some of the narrative information from the outline above because if you do decide to see the film (Artificial Eye released the Region 2 DVD in 2005) you may want to keep some element of surprise. But I will refer to some of the background to the film. Claire Denis grew up in similar circumstances to little France, although I haven’t determined exactly where in French Africa her family was stationed in the 1950s. It may have been Cameroon or possibly Niger. The choice of Northern Cameroon for Chocolat is interesting for several reasons. Its remoteness helps the narrative in terms of isolation. It also allows Denis to make references to the ‘European’ rather than specifically French nature of colonialism in Africa. Cameroon was first colonised by the Germans and after 1918 was split into two mandated territories governed by France and Britain. The two separate colonies were reunited after independence. In Chocolat, France and Aimée are seen in a small cemetery where the German colonisers are buried. They have an English-speaking cook and they are visited by an Englishman who comes to dinner. I don’t think these are simply realist touches. Denis is not too concerned about ‘authenticity’ as such since the timescales are wrong – the older France looks to be in her late twenties in what appears to be contemporary Cameroon (i.e. the late 1980s), but the colonial narrative, in which France is seven or eight, must be at least 30 years earlier as independence in French Cameroon came in 1960.

The region used as a location is in the far North of the country, a wedge driven between Nigeria in the West and Chad in the East – land that is usually hot and dry with distinctive landscapes. It reminded me of films from Chad, but also from Mali and the rest of the Sahel further North (it’s actually not that far from the Northern tip of Cameroon to the Sahel region). I was reminded of incidents in Sembène Ousmane’s films such as in Aimée’s dismissal of a local Christian missionary in the predominantly Muslim local community and also of the visual similarities in some of Agnès Godard’s beautiful compositions, using the light against the compound walls, the long shots of the house and its inhabitants and the way characters disappeared into the dark of the surrounding night. It is the closest that I have seen a European filmmaker get to making an ‘African’ film. It is also a forerunner for the breathtaking imagery of Beau Travail (1999) located on the other side of Africa, but with similar landscapes. Landscape is an important element in the film, not least when France is told about what the horizon means by her father.

I’m not going to undertake a detailed reading of the film here, since there are already several very good reviews listed below. What I will say is that Claire Denis has become a kind of critics’ darling – both those critics who write in the specialist film magazines (she is one of the ‘visionary filmmakers’ in Sight and Sound, September 2009) and in the academy where she is a focus for both the application of contemporary theoretical writing to a body of work (such as the ideas of Gilles Deleuze) and also as a key figure in film studies within French language and cultural studies. This is great, but it would be a shame if Denis was thought of as somehow ‘difficult’ or impenetrable as a filmmaker. As long as audiences can get past their own attachment to Hollywood conventions about storytelling, Denis’ films are quite accessible on several levels with engaging and interesting situations and characters. So in Chocolat it is possible to use the film to explore how individuals and their desires are caught within the systems of taboos and restrictions of colonialism and post-colonialism. They react as functioning human beings, not as characters in a fiction, in what is a very clear-sighted representation of the worlds we all inhabit. I can’t wait to review some of the other films and find the ones I’ve missed.

There are several reviews and articles about the film and about the work of Claire Denis in general. The following are worth a look (along with the other entries tagged Claire Denis on this site):

The usually reliable Roger Ebert provides a useful way into the film without the need for a strong theoretical background.

An essay on the early work of the director from the ‘Reverseshot’ website

Detailed review of Chocolat from KinoEye

KinoEye issue focusing on the work of Claire Denis

Senses of Cinema review by Diana Sandars

Translation of an interview with Denis from French magazine, Sofa, posted on Senses of Cinema

A Guardian interview with Denis by Jonathan Romney

Interview by Darren Hughes posted on Senses of Cinema

Review of Martine Beugnet’s book on Claire Denis by John Orr on Senses of Cinema

In the course of compiling this list I came across the ultimate Claire Denis resource collection compiled by Catherine Grant at Film Studies for Free. If you are serious about accessing all the critical work, this is undoubtedly where to go.

Posted in African Cinema, Films by women, French Cinema | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

Bamako (Mali/France 2006)

Posted by venicelion on 9 March 2009

Africa speaks out against the IMF and the World Bank in bamako  

Africa speaks out against the IMF and the World Bank in Bamako

You don’t get many films like this on release from a mainstream (albeit ‘independent’) distributor like Artificial Eye these days. This came out in the UK in 2007, but possibly only on one print. The print we showed in Bradford had bad scratches down the centre of the image for the first few minutes. Audience members I spoke to afterwards were overwhelmed by the tirade of ideas that came flying at them and some said how it was a shock to see a film that really made you think.

Writer-director Abderrahmane Sissako was born in Mauritania, brought up in Mali and trained as a filmmaker in the Soviet Union during the 1980s. These days he lives in France (I think) and travels back to Africa to make films. He has a healthy scepticism about the politics and lifestyle of Europeans and Americans and in this film goes for the jugular with a well-argued case against the G8 nations who pretend to cancel African debts but in practice, via the World Bank and the IMF, continue to bleed Africa so that the poorest continent pays back more than it ever ‘borrowed’. In fact, as one speaker suggests, it is Africa’s riches which attract the North and it is because they have been stolen that Africa is poor. Sissako also condemns the Africans who aid the North in this plunder.

Anyone who claims that they don’t like to be “preached at” will probably not last more than a few minutes into the film. That’s a shame, but those who are more open to ideas will learn a great deal (and enjoy a film which is rich in meanings beautifully presented). Sissako’s strategy has three prongs – the action is set primarily in the courtyard of a house in one of the poorer districts of the Malian capital, Bamako. In fact, this is the house where Sissako grew up and where up to 25 members of his family and associates have lived at any one time. In this courtyard he stages the trial of the IMF and the World Bank, who are accused from the dock by an array of African writers, academics and ordinary people. The court is conducted by real-life advocates – in French (spoken clearly at a pace that even I can understand, in parts). Some of the Africans speak in local languages. This play on language use is part of the political strategy of the film. There are Africans fluent in cogent argument in French legal language and Africans representing local issues. While the court hearings are taking place, life in the compound goes on as usual.

A couple live in the house and the woman goes off to sing in a cabaret. Her unemployed husband stays home attempting to learn Hebrew so that if an Israeli Embassy ever arrives in this Muslim country, he will have an advantage applying for the post of security guard! Their marriage is falling apart and the husband even tries evangelical Christianity as some form of succour. Outside the gate local women are dyeing cloth (an activity which also spills over into the courtyard) and there are other narratives too, with a policeman looking for a missing gun and a video cameraman touting for business as well as a man who is seriously ill, requiring drips and proper medical aid. Most of these characters ignore the trial – the young men outside the compound disconnect the tannoy relaying the court proceedings.  The third aspect of the presentation is a spoof spaghetti western seemingly appearing on television one night during the trial. ‘Death in Timbuktu’ features a group of bandits (including the director under a pseudonym and the Palestinian director Elia Suleiman) and a ‘man with no name’ character played by Danny Glover. Sissako, like many African youths in the 1970s watched cheap action pictures from France and Italy (and probably Hollywood and Hong Kong). By creating this spoof, he is referring to the Africans who have conspired to kill and starve their own people.

Sissako is an interesting director with his Russian training and an obvious knowledge of African and European cinema. I was reminded of two or three other filmmakers from different traditions in watching a film that is always full of surprises – including several jokes. My favourite moment was when, outside the compound, a woman is being literally sown into her constricting, corset-like, wedding dress (French style white) while over the tannoy that a witness argues that economically the North is “crushing the Negro” (his language perhaps consciously referring to the ‘Négritude’ movement with Aimé Césaire being namechecked). At the end of the film, the white wedding dress is recalled with a second image of older women in white mourning clothes for a funeral. I can see references to Sembène Ousmane in some of the characterisation and depictions of local culture. The approach also seems to draw on the work of fellow Mauritanian/Malian/French director Med Hondo as well as the political films of Jean-Luc Godard. The spaghetti western scene reminded me of Vent d’est (1969) in which Godard uses the western to explore the machinery of cinema and the slugfest between Hollywood and what he calls ‘Mosfilm’ as seen by the Maoist Dziga-Vertov Group. Sissako’s film is far too conventional and subtle to count as ‘counter cinema’ in the Godardian sense, but it still makes audiences think. I’m going to go back and check out some of the other allusions I think I missed the first time round.

Posted in African Cinema, Film Reviews | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

Goodbye Bafana (Ger, Fr, Bel, S. Africa, It, UK, Lux, 2007)

Posted by nicklacey on 1 December 2008

The white man's tale

The white man's tale

Why is it that the stories about apartheid we get to see, in the UK at least, are the white man’s story? The economic racism of the film industry, of course, explains this but it does make watching films like Goodbye Bafana a slightly uncomfortable experience. The proper story is of the ANC’s struggle and this can be readily told via the character of Mandela; here we only get tantalising references to the fight against the racist regime. Mandela’s own story has been in development for years but it looks like it will get told now Clint Eastwood is attached; however, according to the internet movie database, this will focus on the post-apartheid years!

Haysbert is terrific as Mandela; how do you play a saint? Of course, no-one is a saint and Mandela, according to my partner, was far more bolshie than he’s shown here. Joseph Fiennes, an actor I’ve never warmed to, is also terrific but I’m not interested in how he regains his humanity (the film is based on the prison guard’s book whose authenticity has been doubted).

A film to see because we get an inkling about the realities of apartheid. But we don’t get to hear how, for many years, western governments supported the S.African government, or how many politicians dubbed the ANC terrorists. Does anyone know of a film that does this?

Posted in African Cinema | 1 Comment »

Faat Kiné (Senegal 2000)

Posted by venicelion on 14 November 2008

faatkine

Three independent women in Faat Kine

I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to see a Sembène Ousmane film that has never been released in the UK. Sembène’s penultimate film before his death in 2007, the print (from America) was brought into the country by the Africa in Motion Festival based in Edinburgh and then made available for screenings in other parts of the UK. I was able to see it courtesy of Cornerhouse in Manchester. I’ve written about Sembène elsewhere on this blog – and now I must post the second part of our overall history.

Here is an edited version of notes given out in Manchester tonight:

Sembène Ousmane (1923-2007) was the father of African Cinema, as well as its prime social and political activist and its wisest counsel. He is a hard act to follow and it is encouraging to see him in Faat Kiné putting some faith in the younger generation. However, the central focus of the film is Kiné herself, a woman born in 1960 at the same time as Senegal’s independence – and therefore representing symbolically the trials and occasional joys of a country uplifted by independence and brought low by the hypocrisies of neo-colonialism.

The film covers an eventful two or three days. Kiné experiences great joy in the success of her two children in the Baccalaureate exams, but also discovers how she might be trapped by both the past and the future in trying to live as she pleases.

Anyone who has seen one or two of Sembène’s other eight features will immediately recognise some familiar characters, situations and social and political questions. Faat Kiné is a contemporary drama which perhaps most closely resembles Xala (1974) with its high angle shots of Dakar and its focus on the marriages and family disputes amongst the bourgeoisie. Twenty-five years on and there has been some ‘trickle down’ to a focus on business people less directly involved with high level corruption. Corruption and deception are still rife, but Kiné herself is a model of financial rectitude. In another link to Xala, however she enjoys what several startled men describe as ‘vulgar language’. The other contemporary films in Sembène’s back catalogue are all referenced in different ways, especially as in Guelwaar (1992), via the younger members of the family. Crucially, perhaps, the importance of ‘going to France’ is here something that has lost its power to enthrall.

Production background
Sembène began to make films in 1963 when he was already 40 and had established himself as a writer. Films are difficult to make in Africa – partly because money is hard to find and facilities not always available, partly because governments have not always taken kindly to the implied social and political criticism of Sembène’s work. It is also the case that Sembène spent much of his time working on the distribution of his films, attempting to have them dubbed into African languages for local, popular audiences and showing and discussing them at film festivals. In the circumstances, it is amazing that he managed to make as many as nine features over 40 years.

After Guelwaar, which was co-funded by various European film and television interests, Sembène appears to have tried to stay independent. The only production company listed in the credits is Sembène’s own Filmi Domireew and the film was edited in Rabat, Morocco. In an interview at the time of the release of Moolaadé in 2004, Sembène explained that he hoped to complete a trilogy about what he called the “Heroism of Daily Life”. Faat Kiné was intended as the first in the trilogy, followed by Moolaadé and Sembène suggested that the final part, focusing on government bureaucrats, would be called ‘Brotherhood of Rats’ (see the Press Notes for Moolaadé referenced below). Sadly, we’ll never have that film to enjoy.

In some ways it seems odd to have Faat Kiné before Moolaadé (although the problems of distribution in the UK means that much of the audience will have seen Moolaadé first). Moolaadé is a ‘timeless’ film set in a kind of idealised ‘green Africa’, albeit one afflicted by the barbarism of female genital manipulation. Faat Kiné is a thoroughly ‘modern film’.

Story and style
Faat Kiné resembles a familiar European family melodrama and I was reminded of Fassbinder’s ‘BRD Trilogy’ in which he uses the lives of three women to explore what was happening in German society during the Adenauer years. Here, Kiné, like Senegal, faces the 21st century with the legacy of the last 40 years. She is a single woman with two children by different men, both of whom abandoned her when the babies were born. She owes her own survival to her mother who protected her from the wrath of a traditional father presented with a daughter and her ‘bastards’ to house. There is plenty of emotional angst here, but Sembène chooses not to express emotion as melodrama – i.e. through camerawork, lighting etc. In the main, he sticks to a social realist aesthetic leavened by glorious colour and costumes and plenty of verbal humour.

Kiné, who wanted to be a lawyer or a judge, has to work her way up from petrol pump attendant to manager of a filling station. She has now surrounded herself with women she cares for and who respect her and she supervises men who respect her authority. If she wants a gigolo, she pays for one. Otherwise she is wary of men’s devious financial dealings.

Yet, the exam success of her children brings some problems – she has to reassert her authority over returning fathers and also suffer the suggestion by her children that they want to achieve more than just running a filling station.

Politics/feminism
For many, the central question about the film will be: what does it say about the politics of Senegal and about the condition of women in society?

In one sense, the film straightforwardly critiques the men who formed the generation who took power at the time of independence and failed the country in economic terms and then failed the women who worked so hard to make a better future a possibility. These are the men who abandoned a pregnant Kiné and who now pathetically expect her to help them financially (possibly via a marriage). More intriguing is what Kiné herself represents. Her home (with children, Mammy and a maid) is decorated with large portraits of the political figures that we suspect Sembène admires. (I recognised Mandela and Nkrumah, the others include Amilcar Cabral (Guinea-Bissau) and Thomas Sankara (Burkina Faso) according to Gadjigo.) Samba Gadjigo suggests that for Sembène, not only is it important to recognise revolutionary political struggle, but the situation for African women must be revolutionised too. In one magical moment, Kiné and her two female friends emerge from a ‘Sex and the City‘-style lunch at an upmarket ice-cream parlour, sweeping past two elderly men in traditional clothes and carrying staffs to signify their rural background. They look bemused rather than shocked by the sight of these three assertive women. One of the two men is played by Sembène himself.

Kiné is a modern woman, who has achieved materialist success through hard work outside the corrupt world of privileged public services. She wants the best for her children and will continue to sacrifice herself for their future university education. She rejects the chance to become a ‘userer’ by lending at a high interest rate, she gives to charity, but at the same time is sharp and clear-headed in dealing with banks and crooks alike. She looks after her staff. Overall, she is someone we would all probably like to meet – but are these the qualities that a revolutionary socialist like Sembène would hope to see in the new African woman?

Faat Kiné is not a simplistic film in social and political terms but some of the answers to the questions about politics and feminism might come in the last reel, especially when the ambitious son takes on his failure of a father and when Kiné finds a kind of resolution.

After a hesitant start, I found this film shifted up through the gears and produced an engrossing narrative. I was so caught up in its possibilities that time just flew by. I once worried that I might never see this film, so a big round of thanks to the Africa in Motion Festival in Edinburgh for bringing the American print to the UK (and to Cornerhouse for booking it on tour). Now, can somebody please screen Emitai and Ceddo and give one of the great filmmakers of the last forty years the kind of exposure he deserves?

Refs and reviews
www.africanfilmny.org/network/news/Rgadjigo.html
www.newsreel.org/nav/title.asp?tc=CN0125
seeingblack.com/x051701/faatkine.shtml
www.indiewire.com/movies/rev_010328_Faat-Kine.html
www.newyorkerfilms.com/nyf/t_elements/moolaade/moolaade_pk.pdf

Posted in African Cinema, Film Reviews, Melodrama | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment »

Tsotsi (South Africa/UK 2005) – A narrative analysis

Posted by venicelion on 31 October 2008

Butcher and Aap with Fela – the wounded Boston is in the background

Butcher and Aap with Fela – the wounded Boston is in the background

(Spoilers ahead! Like the earlier post on Hero, these notes are from a student event with a full screening of the film. The detailed notes here give away important plot details.)

We chose this film as a case study based on five related points, which we explore below:

  • a narrative produced outside Hollywood;
  • a simple narrative structure, but powerfully affective;
  • a consistent approach to the presentation of a specific environment, involving stylised cinematography and music;
  • questions about the narrative resolution;
  • a series of questions about genre and categorisation.

Narratives outside Hollywood
Everyone is familiar with the conventions of the Hollywood film narrative. This isn’t a reason not to study Hollywood – or to take the conventions for granted. Hollywood, as befits the dominant institution in cinema across the world, is highly dynamic and constantly evolving in terms of film narrative. However, it is often difficult to analyse the films you know best. It helps to have some distance from the films we study and one way to do this is to study some films that are ‘not Hollywood’ in order to make comparisons. Often by comparing and contrasting similar films from different systems we notice much more about them than if we looked at only one system.

Tsotsi is in every way a South African story – even though the film is technically a South Africa/UK production, because some of the production finance is from the UK. (Tsotsi was made on a very small budget of less than US $3 million. Currently the worldwide box office for the film is $9.9 million.) In many ways, Tsotsi is a new kind of South African film, because it is a mainstream film that has been seen around the world (it won the Oscar for ‘Best Foreign Language Picture’ at the 2006 Academy Awards). Previously, important South African stories have been made in the country by British and American producers using British and American stars, often producing films which, apart from the setting, look much like other Hollywood films.

South Africa: Background
The Republic of South Africa is unique on the continent of Africa in terms of its history, its population and its culture. The original inhabitants were largely driven out by the arrival of various groups of people speaking a variety of languages often referred to generically as ‘Bantu’ around the 5th century AD. It’s quite important to realise that southern Africa has always been a region with a diverse population – black South Africans today identify themselves as belonging to one of several ethnic and language groups, such as the Zulu of North Eastern South Africa around Johannesburg and the Xhosa in the South West around Cape Town.

From the 15th century onwards, Southern Africa became the site of colonial and later imperial struggle to exploit the rich agricultural and mineral wealth of the region. The British eventually replaced the Dutch as colonial masters, but not in terms of settlement. When South Africa became an independent nation it was the Afrikaans speaking descendants of the Dutch settlers who were the political majority in the white community and through the creation of apartheid or ‘separate development’, dominated the majority black population. But because of the history of colonial exploitation, South Africa’s population is even more diverse than this history might suggest. The Dutch and the British brought first slaves and then indentured labour (a form of economic slavery) to South Africa from what is now Indonesia and India. In the Cape Region, the intermarriage of slaves and European settlers created a community of what became known in South Africa as ‘Cape Coloureds’. When apartheid ended in 1994 and South Africa held its first multi-racial elections, it became in the new President Mandela’s words, “A Rainbow Nation”. Today South Africa has a population of 47 million. The various black communities make up around 79% of the population, followed by the white community, the Cape Coloureds and the Indian/Asian communities.

Economy and the townships
South Africa is the richest country in Africa, but even after ten years of democracy, it still has massive inequalities in wealth distribution. In blunt terms, there is a rich minority with living standards comparable with North America and Western Europe and a large majority existing on very low incomes. This division is reflected in visible terms by the peculiar building arrangements in South African cities. One of the legacies of apartheid is the concept of the township/shanty town/squatter camp. In the apartheid era, the black population was ‘kept separate’ from the white cities, so that makeshift settlements grew up to house black workers outside the major cities. These became known as townships. The situation was made worse by another apartheid policy which forced black Africans to live in what were called ‘homelands‘ by the white government and ‘bantustans‘ by their opponents. Black South Africans could only own land in the homelands. Since this was the poorest agricultural land, many were forced to live in temporary buildings on the edge of the city where there might be work. The apartheid government also shipped in migrant workers from other countries to work in mining and other industries. These workers too would be housed outside the cities. The result of these policies was the piecemeal development of collections of townships. The most famous of these is Soweto (South Western Township), a huge sprawl of many smaller townships on the edge of Johannesburg which has grown over a period a hundred years and which may now be bigger than the rest of the city with more than 1 million residents. This is the setting for Tsotsi. The film’s three locations are representative of the three areas in Johannesburg – the city centre, the ‘squatter camp’ (one of the least developed township areas) and the suburbs (once white enclaves, now also home to the black middle class). (see http://www.sahistory.org.za/pages/places/villages/gauteng/johannesburg/index.htm for the history of Soweto’s development as a home for Johannesburg’s black population.)

Township life
Because of the history outlined above, township culture has developed in distinctive ways. In the first half of the 20th century, men outnumbered women 3:1 since they were primarily workers who had left families behind and were accommodated in hostels. There were few civic amenities in the townships and social life was based on the beer hall or shabeen. Men outnumbering women generally means organised prostitution and high crime levels. But the culture also developed positive aspects, including a vibrant musical culture, combining traditional music with imported black music styles from America. Initially the influences were jazz but now it is likely to be hip-hop. Tsotsi uses the current township music culture, known as kwaito throughout the film. One of the main characters is played by Zola, a leading kwaito performer.

Besides crime and music, the main way in which township residents have become famous is via sport, especially football, and the political struggle against apartheid. Not surprisingly, several South African novels, plays and films have focused on township life as the basis for their stories. Outside South Africa, the best known of these have been written by white South African liberals, sympathetic to the residents. The two best known writers in the UK are Alan Paton and Athol Fugard.

Alan Paton (1903-1988) was a Christian who became a teacher and then principal of a Reform School where he instigated progressive policies. In 1953 he founded the South African Liberal Party – a multi-racial party that was later banned by the apartheid regime. In 1948 he wrote his most famous novel, Cry The Beloved Country. This was made into a British/South African film in 1951, starring the African-American actors Canada Lee and Sidney Poitier and then a South African/US film in 1995 starring James Earl Jones.

Athol Fugard (b 1932) is a South African playwright who in the 1970s wrote several plays attacking the injustices of apartheid. One of these, Boesman and Lena, was adapted as a film in 1974 and seen around the world. Another, Sizwe Bansi Is Dead (1972) was performed in several countries. Tsotsi is based on a novel that Athol Fugard wrote in 1970, which has been updated to relate to a post-apartheid South Africa.

The South African film industry
Tsotsi is a relatively unusual film. Putting aside the small UK involvement, it is a South African film, made by South African talent, for both the home market and for export. It is one of a small number of such films released in the last couple of years, marking a change in South African filmmaking.

In the past, filmmaking in South Africa has been split into three separate activities. Because of its range of locations and good infrastructure, South Africa has been used by many Hollywood and ‘international films’ to stand in for other parts of Africa. In such cases, directors and stars have been flown into the country and this has happened even when the story has been distinctively South African. The film Red Dust (UK/South Africa 2004) dealt with the aftermath of apartheid and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, yet the two stars, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Hilary Swank were brought in from the UK and the US.

There has always been a small-scale white South African film industry, often making local comedies and not usually exported. There has also in the past been an ‘exploitation’ film industry making films cheaply to be shown in the townships. This practice was supported with some funding by the apartheid government for a separate black cinema culture. The legacy of apartheid in terms of cinema has been a weak local industry, almost totally subservient to Hollywood. Despite having more cinemas and more admissions than anywhere else in Africa, the South African industry had little real success at home until Tsotsi. Most South African audiences have traditionally preferred Hollywood films.

Narrative Structure
There are various ways of thinking about Tsotsi as a film narrative. In structural terms it is quite straightforward. Writer-director Gavin Hood even says on the DVD that it is a ‘simple’ narrative. Apart from the flashback memories of his childhood that Tsotsi himself experiences early in the film, the narrative structure is linear in terms of time. Everything takes place over four nights. There are brief sequences dealing with the investigation of the abduction of the baby by the police and Boston’s recuperation at the shabeen, but most of the time Tsotsi himself drives the narrative forward.

There are three ‘environments’ in the film and the story moves between the three. They are:

  • the township
  • the city centre (or rather the railway station and its immediate environs)
  • the suburb

Questions of colour, cinematography etc.
The most striking feature of the film is what we might call the ‘colour palette’ with which the cinematographer is working. Most scenes take place either at night or in what appears to be a rosy glow of early morning or early evening. Few scenes are shot in the bright sunlight of mid-day. Shooting at night is always difficult and creating a coherent look for the film across the different environments and natural lighting conditions was the main aim. Tsotsi was featured in an article for American Cinematographer magazine (see Bosley 2006) so we have some good ideas about what was intended and how the effects were achieved.

An expressionist image using lighting to emphasise the state of Tostsi with the baby in his shack.

An expressionist image using lighting to emphasise the state of Tostsi with the baby in his shack.

Director Gavin Hood believed that Tsotsi was essentially an ‘internal story’. Although there are several action sequences, the real story is inside Tsotsi’s head. Ideally we should study Tsotsi and understand how he is beginning to change over the course of the story.

Hood and his cinematographer Lance Gewer began with one clear idea. They would not use the hand-held style which had been so successful in the worldwide hit that was City of God (Brazil 2002). In that film, hand-held camerawork and fast cutting was an important element in creating an action-packed gangster film. But it wouldn’t be appropriate for Tsotsi. Instead, Hood and Gewer opted for a fairly static camera, carefully framed and lit scenes in which a relatively small and slow zoom in to Tsotsi’s face could communicate agreat deal about what is going on in his head.

Narrative resolution
Tsotsi is a film that ends hanging in mid air. In the version that was shown in cinemas, Tsotsi is holding is arms raised with the three policemen all aiming their guns at him. What happens next? Does Tsotsi surrender? Is his surrender accepted? Or do the police shoot him? It is a tense situation in which anything might happen. The filmmakers chose this open ending partly because they liked the possibility of audiences leaving the cinema discussing what the ending meant and what should happen to Tsotsi and partly because they had received negative reactions to the other two possibilities that a closed ending would have offered.

All three potential endings are shown and discussed by the director on the DVD. Having the police shoot and kill Tsotsi (after he puts his hand in his pocket to bring out the bottle of milk) was thought by some audiences to be too predictable (which might reflect on the status of the police in South Africa), but by others to be emotionally devastating. If an audience invests heavily in a character, especially one who attempts to redeem himself, then the death of the character comes as a blow.

The second alternative ending is that the police shoot, but Tsotsi is only wounded. The police seem surprised/shocked that someone has actually fired and in that split second, Tsotsi regains his composure and runs for the wall at the side of the road. He vaults over the wall and heads off across the field, heading for the township. This is the sentimental, romantic ending with the implication that he finds Miriam. But, like the ending in which Tsotsi is killed, the filmmakers felt that this was too ‘pat’ – it meant that there would be no discussion of what should or shouldn’t happen.

Genre
Whatever sense audiences make of Tsotsi, it will to some extent depend on how they approach the film. This refers to the concept of categorising or classifying films and, based upon the choice of category, developing expectations of what might happen and how it might be presented. Tsotsi is interesting because it doesn’t clearly suggest any single category. Here are some ideas about how audiences might categorise it or select its genre.

1. foreign language flm
Tsotsi includes dialogue in Zulu and Xhosa as well as Afrikaans and English (in fact most of the film is conducted in a form of criminal slang). Most of the film is subtitled. In the UK, many audiences claim not to enjoy subtitled films. This may be because they find reading subtitles tiring or because they feel they are missing something else while they are reading. But it is also possible that they may be reacting against what they see as the ‘otherness’ – the strangeness – of non-English language cinema. Partly, they may also associate any subtitled film with the notion of ‘art cinema’ – i.e. that the film will be in some way ‘difficult’ or ‘pretentious’ and may offer a character study more than a good story/plot and action. In many cases they will be justified in this view. Tsotsi is in some ways a character study more than a plot-driven action entertainment feature. However, it certainly isn’t a difficult film.

2. drama
One of the important points about genre as a concept is that the term is used differently by the film industry, audiences, critics and scholars and that each of these groups will themselves use different terms to describe a particular category. On the whole, the film industry uses very broad terms such as comedy, thriller or drama. In fact these are just about the only terms that the industry is happy to use (apart from ‘horror’, which is usually reserved for use with younger audiences). The industry itself is wary of putting any potential audience off by referring to popular genre categories such as science fiction, romance etc. They fear that such terms will deter some audiences. Science fiction films sometimes become ‘futuristic dramas’ and romances become ‘romantic dramas’. What does ‘drama’ mean in these circumstances? Perhaps it simply serves to distinguish one group of films from another group – comedies. Dramas are in some way ‘serious’. Although, of course, you will come across ‘comedy-dramas’. Tsotsi is described as a ‘riveting drama’ on the DVD cover, but there are no other pointers to its generic status.

3. adaptation
Tsotsi is certainly ‘serious’ in terms of its overall tone and the importance of the social issues it represents. For some audiences, that seriousness will be a kind of status indicator and it may well be associated with the knowledge that the film is based on a novel by a well known playwright. Both literature and theatre have higher cultural status than cinema amongst certain groups in society and a film which has literary roots automatically draws on this status. For other audiences this link might be a disadvantage if they see the film as being ‘stifled’ or restricted by its origins. If we can think about the original author’s intentions without getting bothered about cultural status it could help us in analysing the film’s narrative to think about how the story is constructed in almost theatrical terms.

It wouldn’t be difficult to stage Tsotsi as a play. Most of the action takes place in distinctive settings which work as theatrical spaces: Tsotsi’s shack/Miriam’s shack, the shabeen, the train station/underpass, the suburb. There is little use of traditional cinematic devices such as the ‘chase’ which would be difficult to stage. Also the confrontations between characters are also theatrical in terms of dialogue exchange and posed/tableau positioning of actors.

4. gangster film
The gangster film is a popular form in cinemas across the world, not just in Hollywood films but in films made in Britain, France, Italy, Hong Kong etc. Tsotsi makes clear references to the gangster repertoire with the ‘set-up’ of the attack at the beginning of the film, the squabbling between the gang members, each of whom is typed for easy identification. The development of the story to include a gang leader whose actions are curtailed or re-directed because of a woman (a woman of his own age and/or a mother figure) is also a familiar aspect of the gangster film. However, although the gangster genre may provide many of the elements in the mix, it doesn’t tell the full story and it will be more useful to see Tsotsi as mixing the gangster genre elements with those of the youth picture.

5. youth picture/coming of age drama
Many films can be studied in terms of their focus on youth. Clearly the interest in producing youth films is related to the importance of this age group in the cinema audience. There is no strict definition of what ‘youth’ means in terms of age groups. At its widest, it might refer to anyone aged 13-24. Tsotsi and his gang are perhaps in their early 20s. The narrative of the youth picture will have several distinctive features:

• some sense of rebellion and dismissal of the ‘adult’ world;
• a short story time – the events will take place over a few days or a few weeks;
• at the end of the film, the main character will usually have learned something about themselves.

Do these elements figure in Tsotsi? The focus of a youth picture narrative will either be something to do with achievement in exams, a job etc. or in a romantic/sexual relationship. Especially in the latter case, this might make the youth picture a ‘coming of age’ story in which the central character is seen to ‘grow up’ in some way.

At the beginning of the film, Tsotsi and Miriam pass each other in the crowded streets of the township.

At the beginning of the film, Tsotsi and Miriam pass each other in the crowded streets of the township.

6. township film
In most countries there are some stories and some film genres which are peculiar to that country (i.e. they are not universal like the romance or the comedy). We could argue that there have been several films in the past that might be described as ‘township dramas’. These films were all set in the South African townships with stories that depended on some of the unique characteristics of township life. From the 1940s through to the late 1980s, such stories also depended on the conditions of apartheid which affected every aspect of South African life – most importantly in governing where people could live, how they could travel etc. With the end of apartheid, some aspects of township life have changed. It might, however, be useful to think about Tsotsi as a kind of township film in the post-apartheid era. The few township films seen in the UK include the original Cry the Beloved Country, aspects of Cry Freedom (UK 1987) and Mapantsula (South Africa 1988)

Reading a film case study: the opening to Tsotsi
Whatever the film chosen, students are likely to analyse a short sequence (around 5-7 minutes is about the right length). They should choose the sequence because it plays a significant role in the narrative structure. This is likely to be:

• the opening
• a sequence which marks a shift in direction, a ‘turning point’ in the narrative
or
• the closing sequence

The opening to Tsotsi (roughly 5 mins up until the gang leave the train and their victim) performs various tasks which serve to get the narrative started. The first images are close-ups of the craps game with a hand shaking, dice falling on a battered table top, Butcher’s makeshift weapon tapping and cigarette smoke. It is a few moments until we are offered a wide shot allowing us to see that the game is taking place in Tsotsi’s shack while he looks out of the window. This first composition with the four young men together will be repeated in different ways throughout the sequence.

The craps game has a double purpose in the narrative. This is a standard ploy in constructing a filmic narrative. First, the game has a narrative function in setting up characters and suggesting what kind of story might develop. Second, it offers a different kind of meaning that we could describe as metaphorical or symbolic.

The game introduces the characters quickly and effectively. Aap and Butcher are the players, Aap is certainly typed as the overweight, slightly naive but friendly character up against Butcher who is shown to either cheat or to be innumerate. Either way he is angry and impatient and the tapping of the weapon is a disturbing omen. Boston is similarly typed as the educated onlooker, possibly slightly older. (He reads the paper, he can follow the game without having to concentrate.) Tsotsi at this point is simply ‘apart’ from the others, looking out of the window. There are tensions between the four group members and Butcher is clearly the most provocative of the four. Although he doesn’t say anything, Tsotsi’s physical position and outward look (i.e. away from the game) is significant. But the craps game is also a useful cultural referent. Who plays craps and why? The Wikipedia definition of craps suggests that it is a casino game that can also be played in any setting where men are gathered. In Hollywood movies it is a game often played by soldiers or by petty crooks, both groups wanting something to pass the time between the ‘action’ of combat or crime. In a wider context, the image of young men gambling in this way suggests possibly unemployment, disaffection etc. The other cultural referents in the scene confirm a specific millieu with marijuana on a torn sheet of newspaper, a beer bottle, a footbal team poster on the wall etc. This is the room of a young man.

The second type of meaning is metaphorical/symbolic and refers to life as a gamble. Throwing dice can be seen as an approach to decision-making – “let’s see what the dice say”. Alternatively, it could refer to the philosophical position of accepting the consequences of someone else rolling the dice – having to live with whatever the result might be. In either case, the dice game offers the narrative a thematic.

Of course, these opening images are accompanied by two other elements: the credits and the use of sound, both the voices of the characters and the music track. The credits are ‘external’ to the fictional world of the film (non-diegetic), but they still offer some clues to the narrative, especially in the presentation of the film’s title. ‘Tsotsi’ is written in a style of calligraphy/typography suggesting the makeshift, the ersatz, possibly the essence of the township. The individual letters were probably typed or printed, but they are of different sizes and weights and they look battered and worn. Together they symbolise the culture rather than directly referring to it. The other noticeable feature of the credits is the light that flickers across the screen, possibly resembling flickering oil lamps and firelight.

The graphics and the image help to introduce the location as a township, but to pin down the locale, we need the language and the music. The characters speak in a mixture of languages: Zulu, Xhosa, Afrikaans and English. This mixture is common in many urban areas in the world, but this particular mixture is quite precise and the South African setting is confirmed by the music, the style known as kwaito. Although the rhythm and the overall style of the music is drawn from US and British black music styles (which in their origin are mostly West African), the vocal style of kwaito utilises the uniquely melodic sound of Southern Africa. Like the credits, the kwaito music is non-diegetic. Before we leave this opening scene, we should also note that the sound effects, Butcher’s tapping the rattle of the dice etc. are important in creating some of the tension – much as the smoke rising from Butcher’s cigarette. Buried much lower in the sound mix are the ambient sounds of township life – the low murmur of people on the streets outside, some dogs barking etc. This provides atmosphere and confirms the realist elements of the film’s presentation. But there is also an odd element in the sound mix – two rumbling, rushing sounds, which accompany the throwing of the dice and their landing on the table. We could explain these as rumbles of thunder or other ‘outside’ sounds, but they function in the sequence in conjunction with a visual special effect – the slow motion footage of the dice in flight.

The music doesn’t kick in until Tsotsi turns to answer the question about what the gang will do tonight. Tsotsi’s turn leaves him framed by the evening light coming through the window. Lighting is very important in the film. In this sequence it is early evening and the township is bathed in a pinkish glow. Again this is functional and symbolic. The glow as the sun sinks indicates evening (or dawn, the time for other scenes later on) and there is a ‘realist’ explanation for the hazy/misty atmosphere. There is no electricity in the township and many people in the shacks light cooking fires and oil lamps at this time, so the air is always thick. But the overall effect is certainly theatrical – it is rather like the lighting effect in a stage play, especially when it is coupled with the use of small key lamps which direct light onto the faces of the actors and create a kind of ‘halo’ effect.

When the gang leave Tsotsi’s shack (which is unusual in being raised above the others, the camera style changes. In the first part of the sequence, it was mostly medium close-ups and close-ups. Now the camera tracks the four as they make their way through the township. There is a variety of shots using a crane and a steadicam. The crane shot will be repeated several times. First it shows long shots of the township (note that Miriam is the first in the queue of women getting water from the standpipe). Next it shows the train approaching the city centre, then the platform to show the arrival of the train with the gang aboard and then the main hall of the station, tilting up sufficiently to allow us to read the large poster which announces that ‘We are all affected by HIV and AIDS’. Again we can read this use of the camera as being both functional and symbolic. It is an economical way of presenting the important locations of the township and the station, both of which are scenes of action and now we have a better sense of their geography. (In the township, the camera also tarcks past the shabeen with a jeering Fela and his gang). The reference to HIV/AIDS is important as it is otherwise not mentioned, despite its central presence in the lives of township dwellers. Did Tsotsi’s mother die of HIV/AIDS? Coupled with the crane shots are various tracking shots – a moving camera follows the gang, sometimes from a low angle and from the front. This makes them appear quite heroic as if marching off to battle. Tsotsi is picked out for close-ups as the leader. When he gives the finger (a borrowed American/European insult?) to Fela, the camera offers us a subjective view of the shabeen (i.e. Tsotsi’s view). Overall, this part of the sequence, which takes the gang to the station, is marked by movement and a flowing camera style – in contrast to the static composition in the shack. As well as Miriam, Morris in his wheelchair is also in this sequence. The crane/long shot will be repeated a little later with a view across the wasteland that separates the township from the suburb – the other main location for the action.

In a symbolic sense, the camerawork also establishes that the gang can move through the township and the station as if these are areas that it controls – or at least feels at home in (in contrast to the suburbs). The city centre remain on the horizon, almost like a ‘magic kingdom’ from which the gang are excluded. Later, Tsotsi will sit on the hill outside the city pondering his future. This is a very common image, but nonetheless effective.

The next part of the sequence is clearly ‘generic’ in referring to the crime film. We know that a crime is about to take place and it is quickly established by the camera following the swift looks that Tsotsi gives to possible ‘marks’. These are emphasised by whip pans or flashes as Tsotsi turns his attention to someone else. In each case, the possible marks are shown in mid-shot or framed between other figures in the crowd – there are no wide shots, so we are forced to connect, the close-ups of Tsotsi’s face and the images of the marks. When the victim is identified, the camera moves closer to show his transaction with the stallholder and finally the wage packet that he pulls out in order to pay for his purchases. The camerawork and editing are interesting here in showing us that the other gang members are following Tsotsi’s looks and in isolating the figures involved in the final selection by using shallow focus. (This disguises a move from the main hall to the platform, which is obscured by the out of focus background.) Nothing is said in the sequence, but we know precisely what is going on, simply through the use of camera and editing.

The gang aboard the train in the opening sequence.

The gang aboard the train in the opening sequence.

At this point it is worth mentioning costume and casting, both important in setting up our feelings towards the crime and towards the gang. In the township we weren’t particularly aware of the four gang members as being distinctive, partly because we didn’t see them in a crowd. Now we recognise that compared to their victim and many others in the station, they are actually quite small in stature, especially Tsotsi. By making the victim both tall and well-built, the stature of the gang members is highlighted. But the victim is also presented as a friendly, trusting man – someone who has possibly just bought a present for a wife or daughter as well as a tie for himself. He has a pleasant exchange with the young Asian woman on the stall and when the gang surround him on the train, he at first looks down on them with an almost avuncular gaze. We have two contrasting ideas here. The gang appear, once in the city, as poor and downtrodden and possibly worthy of our sympathy, but their attack is made to feel even worse by the humanity of the man they select as a victim.

When Butcher effectively skewers the man it is a shocking moment. Had Tsotsi intended that the man should die? Was it an accident? Or is Butcher a psychopath who enjoys killing? Like many narratives, Tsotsi attempts to set up an important question in its forst five minutes and almost on cue it does it with the killing. We have spent five minutes getting to know these characters – what have we let ouselves in for? What kind of story will follow?

Like the scenes in the main hall of the station, most of the scenes in the train are framed in mid-shot or medium close-up. The action moves quickly and the soundtrack again uses ambient sound and what might be sound effects to emphasise the way Tsotsi homes in on the victim. The final shot in the sequence is a wider shot of the empty carriage with the body on the floor. This is both a symbolic corpse – an unnecessary death to haunt Tsotsi – and another indicator of the realism of a story set in a country with one of the worst records for violent crime in the world.

The opening sequence ends here, having established the characters of the four gang members and introduced the ‘inciting incident’ as some theorists call it. The killing acts to set off a chain of events, beginning in the shabeen where Boston’s disgust pushes Tsotsi into an outburst.

References and Further Reading
David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson (1997, 5th edition) Film Art, London and New York: McGraw Hill
Rachel K. Boswell (2006) ‘An Angry Young Man’ in American Cinematographer, March
(Available online at http://www.ascmag.com/magazine/March2006/index.php)
Gill Branston and Roy Stafford (2006, 4th ed) The Media Student’s Book, London: Routledge
Athol Fugard (2006) Tsotsi, Canongate Press (re-issue of the original novel)
Nick Lacey (1998) Image and Representation, London: Macmillan
Nick Lacey (2000) Narrative and Genre, London: Macmillan
Nick Lacey (2005) Introduction to Film, Basingstoke: Palgrave
Geoffrey Macnab (2006) Review of Tsotsi, Sight and Sound, April

Websites

http://www.tsotsi.com/english/
http://www.filmeducation.org/tsotsi/index.html
http://www.rage.co.za/kwaito.html
http://film.guardian.co.uk/features/featurepages/0,,1727356,00.html
http://www.sundaytimes.co.za/
http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,,1723947,00.html

Essay or discussion questions on Tsotsi

1. How do you relate to Tsotsi as a character? Does your attitude towards him change over the course of the narrative?

2. What do you make of the ending of the film? Do you like being given the opportunity to decide what should happen to him or would you rather be given a clear indication?

3. The presence of Boston, ‘the teacher’, in the gang is not properly explained in the film, but he performs an important role in driving Tsotsi into action. More background on this is given in the deleted scene on the DVD. Do you think the director was right to cut this scene? What difference would its inclusion make?

4. Tsotsi has been seen around the world and it won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Picture in 2006. As a consequence of this exposure, Presley Chweneyagae who plays Tsotsi has become a star in South Africa. What kinds of star qualities do you think he has and which aspects of his performance make his portrayal of Tsotsi so compelling?

5. Terry Pheto, who plays Miriam, is the other potential star performer in the film. Miriam is a difficult role to play since women in South African society (and also in South African cinema) are at best marginalised. What kind of woman is Terry Pheto able to represent in Tsotsi and how would you explain the character’s actions in the film?

6. Various categories or genres are suggested as possible for Tsotsi in these notes. Which of them do you find most useful? How did you approach the film? Which other films have you seen which are in some way comparable with Tsotsi?

7. To what extent do you think Tsotsi is a ‘realist’ film, depicting life in the townships today? Which scenes would you pick out as being less ‘realist’ and more like a stage play, with exaggerated use of colour and setting?

8. If we consider the film to be more about symbolism and metaphor, a common theme running throughout the film is about ‘parenting’. Can you list all the ‘real’ and ‘symbolic’ mothers, fathers and children in the film? What might the film be saying about families?

9. The narrative focuses almost completely on the story of Tsotsi. Even so, there are ideas expressed about the current state of South African society in a broader sense. Think about the interaction between the police, the middle class suburban couple and the people in the townships. What do these interactions suggest about contemporary South Africa?

10. As well as being about South Africa, the story in Tsotsi also has ‘universal elements’ which could be utilised in a film set anywhere in the world. How would you identify these universal elements and how would you use them in a film made in the UK or anywhere else that you know?

11. The tragedy of HIV/AIDS is there in the background of Tsotsi and, although not explicitly stated, it seems likely that it killed Tsotsi’s mother. Why do you think the filmmakers kept it so far in the background? How would the story change if HIV/AIDS came into the foreground?

12. There is no obvious ‘villain’ in the story of Tsotsi – i.e. in the form of a single character. Without such a character how does the film handle the development of conflict and the final climax in the narrative?

Posted in African Cinema | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »

Black History Month – Our lists

Posted by venicelion on 13 October 2008

Watch this space for some discussion of specific films, but to start off we decided to think of the films which we would like students to watch in terms of Black history. Each list is given in chronological order:

Rona’s List 

My list follows (broadly) a history of black cinema in the US – starting with DW Griffiths Birth and Oscar Micheaux’s response.  Even within a restricted list, it demonstrates the diversity of approach to representation of African-Americans, including white filmmakers who address race within their work. Of our generation, Spike Lee (despite some uneven efforts) is one of the most important filmmakers, regardless of race, because of the way he has incorporated his racial identity into his work, and yet produced films that are not bound by it for audiences. 

Birth of a Nation (1915)

Within our Gates (1920)

In the Heat of the Night (1967)

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)

Shaft (1971)

The Color Purple (1985)

She’s Gotta Have It (1986)

Do the Right Thing (1989)

Daughters of the Dust (1991)

Boyz n the Hood (1991)

Sister Act (1992)

Malcolm X (1992)

Antwone Fisher (2002)

 

Nick’s List

I tried to think of the ten ‘black’ films that I would like to see this month (limiting myself to one Spike Lee).

Hallelujah (US 1929)

Cabin in the Sky (US 1943)

Borom Sarret (Senegal 1966)

The Harder They Come (Jamaica 1972)

Mapantsula (South Africa 1988)

Mo’ Better Blues (US 1990)

Boyz n the Hood (US 1991)

Deep Cover (US 1992)

Menace II Society (US 1993)

Moolaadé (Senegal, France, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Morocco, Tunisia 2004)

 

Roy’s List

These are all films made by Black filmmakers that I have used in an education context and that I would happily sit down and watch (and teach) again. 

Ceddo (Senegal 1977)

Burning An Illusion (UK 1981)

Finye (The Wind) (Mali 1981)

Rue cases nègres (France/Martinique 1983)

Sarraounia (Burkina Faso/Mauritania/France 1986)

Handsworth Songs (UK 1986)

Eve’s Bayou (US 1997)

Babymother (UK 1998)

Bamboozled (US 2000)

Heremakono (Waiting for Happiness) (France/Mauritania 2002)

We are planning to write up several films and some of those listed here are already on the blog as indicated. Any comments on the lists or requests for specific films to be included in our coverage?

Posted in African Cinema, African-American, British Cinema | 3 Comments »

Moolaadé (Senegal/Burkina Faso/Tunisia/Cameroon/Morocco 2004)

Posted by venicelion on 2 September 2008

Hadjatou with the four young girls seeking the protection of the moolaadé.

Hadjatou with the four young girls seeking the protection of the moolaadé.

Moolaadé stands as a fitting tribute to the career of the first great African director. Sembène was approaching 80 when he set out on this final production and after forty years of struggle to make films – and see them distributed in Africa – it is satisfying to report that Moolaadé includes many of the themes of the earlier work and that it is beautifully made. It will also have pleased Sembène that so many African countries contributed to the production (based in an ‘historic’ rural community in Burkina Faso that Sembène said represented ‘green Africa’).

In one sense, Moolaadé offers another ‘timeless’ African story and bears some comparison with Sembène’s masterpiece Ceddo (1977). As in the earlier film, the village is a microcosm of West African society and the central character is a woman who has the fate of the village pushed upon her. In both cases she takes action which brings her into conflict with the men of the village – both the village elders and the religious authorities. Ceddo is more clearly constructed to explore historical issues, but Sembène argued that they are still relevant ‘now’. In Moolaadé the central issues are more clearly contemporary, but the presentation suggests the ‘timeless’.

The microcosm idea is furthered by having actors (and non-actors) drawn from Mali, Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast, all speaking forms of Bambara – a language spoken in all three countries. This sense of African communities that ignore boundaries drawn up by colonial and post-colonial administrations goes back to Sembène’s first great novel, God’s Little Bits of Wood (1960), about a railway strike along the line from Bamako to Dakar. It also refers to the ‘Pan-Africanism’ of the 1950s and 1960s, which informed the work of many of the early African filmmakers including Sembène, whose novels had also been influenced in this way. Sembène himself was certainly more concerned to see his films dubbed into other African languages than to succeed as an art film director in Europe and America.

The language issue also has an impact on how scenes unfold in Moolaadé. Sembène explains that in the villages formal modes of address require the repetition of names and greetings during exchanges. He tried to rehearse local actors and non-professionals in more ‘film-friendly’ styles of conversation without losing the sense of spontaneity. However, much of it remains and audiences may find that it slows down the film (but possibly makes it easier to follow the exchanges via the subtitles).

The central narrative strand of Moolaadé concerns the practice of ‘female genital mutilation’ (FGM) or ‘cutting’ (FGC) – the concept of female ‘circumcision’ being no longer acceptable for what is a seriously dangerous as well as morally reprehensible practice. (See Wikipedia: <en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Female_genital_mutilation>) Burkina Faso is one of the countries which still has a high incidence of one or more forms of FGM/C. The practice is found across much of Sub-Saharan Africa and also from Egypt down through East Africa to Tanzania. It is essentially a cultural practice which predates both Islam and Christianity, although it has been ‘accepted’ by both Islamic and Christian communities in Africa. One of the arguments made on the Wikipedia entry is that British attempts to outlaw the practice during their colonial administration in Kenya had the opposite effect in that identification of prohibition as associated with the coloniser increased the use of FMG/C amongst communities wanting independence.

Sembène was a political filmmaker. He wanted his films to be seen by popular audiences and he wanted the audiences to learn from the films and take action. It is therefore quite possible that more entertainment orientated audiences will find his films, especially Moolaadé, to be either overly didactic or idealistic in the optimism of their resolutions. This has certainly been said of Moolaadé. What is important for Sembène is that strong characters emerge to challenge tradition and to build an alliance for change. Often these characters are women, certainly in Ceddo and Moolaadé and in the novel God’s Little Bits of Wood.

The resistance to ‘purification’ comes from Collie who has endured the pain of ‘cutting’ herself and who wishes to protect her daughter. She is determined to protect the four young girls who flee from the purification ceremony and sets up a moolaadé. This traditional form of sanctuary is represented by a powerful social ritual and can only be broken by Collie herself announcing that it is over – the woman whose public utterances are usually deferential has the ultimate power.

Collie receives support from her husband’s first wife, her ‘elder’, even if she is suspicious of her motives. The solidarity of the wives is evidence of tradition. The support of Mercenaire, one of the two characters with knowledge of the ‘outside world’ is important and so is the (limited) support of the second outsider Ibrahima. ‘Outside’ is also symbolised in terms of modernity – television and radio. These alien cultural agencies are seen to be so progressive that their use must be proscribed for the women (yet the men can use them to listen to broadcasts of the Koran). The complex ways in which Sembène appears to endorse both traditional and modern ideas in his attempt to foster change is what gives the film its strength – alongside the vibrant photography and outstanding performances.

The two outsiders are important in several ways. Sembène argued that Moolaadé was his ‘most African’ film – not only in its production but also in its list of characters. There are no European characters in the film, so these two African characters become the carriers of European ideas (and discussions about wealth and globalisation). Mercenaire is a version of the familiar Sembène character of the soldier who fought for France and is not honoured in his own country (e.g. the wagon driver of Borom Sarret). Ibrahima is another recurring character combining the experience of the soldiers in Camp de Thiaroye and the young woman in Black Girl, who experience rather different effects of travelling to France. A similar character is also at the centre of Guelwaar.

The press pack for the US release of the film includes an interview with Sembène (by Samba Gadjigo) in which he gives the context of the film’s production and his overall idea:

I can tell you that, based on its content, the film is the second in a trilogy that, for me, embodies the Heroism in daily life. One finds that nowadays war is rampant in Africa, especially South of the Sahara. There’s also our life; life continues, after all, with our daily actions that are forgotten by the masses. The people don’t retain them. They want to convince us that we ‘vegetate’. But yet, this underground struggle, this struggle of the people, similar to the struggles of all other peoples, that’s what I call Heroism in daily life. These are the heroes to whom no country, no nation gives any medals . . . They never get a statue built. That, for me, is the symbolism of this trilogy. I have already made two, Faat-Kine, this one now Moolaadé, and I am preparing for the third.

Gadjigo: From the time you wrote your first novel, The Black Docker (1956), in which the first chapter was called ‘The Mother’, you have a given a very particular emphasis to women, to the Heroism of the African woman. Why does this heroism recur, as a leitmotif, throughout your work?

Sembène: I think that Africa is maternal. The African male is very maternal; he loves his mother; he swears on his mother. When someone insults his father the man can take it; but once his mother’s honour has been hurt, the man feels he’s not worthy of life if he doesn’t defend his mother. According to our traditions, a man has no intrinsic value, he receives his value from his mother. This concept goes back to before Islam: the good wife, the good mother, the submissive mother who knows how to look after her husband and family. The mother embodies our society . . . I continue to think that African society is very maternal. Maybe we have inherited from our pre-Islamic matriarchy. That said, to me, every man loves a woman. We love them. Besides, more than 50% of the African population are women. More than half of the 800,000,000 that we are. This is a force that we must be able to mobilise for our own development. There’s no one that works as hard as the rural woman.

(The title of the proposed film that would complete the trilogy and which dealt with government officials was meant to be ‘The Brotherhood of Rats’ – Sembène remained politically committed to the end.)

Reference
<www.newyorkerfilms.com/nyf/t_elements/moolaade/moolaade_pk.pdf>

The Artificial Eye DVD carries an interview with Sembène, a ‘making of’ documentary and a campaign piece about FGC by ‘Forward’ (www.forwarduk.org.uk).

Posted in African Cinema, Film Reviews | Tagged: | Leave a Comment »