Samba is the follow-up to the second biggest global hit in French film history, Intouchables (2011) – a film I’ve been meaning to write about for some time. Perhaps watching Samba will prompt me to do so. The same writing-directing duo (Olivier Nakache and Eric Toledano) and the same star (Omar Sy) feature in this $20 million budget film. Omar Sy is the French TV star who became a surprise film star in Intouchables – as an African-French character given a lead role in an industry not noted for its representations of Africans in mainstream films. In Samba he plays a Senegalese migrant who has been in France for 10 years but who has still not achieved legal residency.
I missed this film during its (very brief) run in UK cinemas but I still wanted to see it even though I could see the flaws in Intouchables. I was worried by some of the negative reviews but in the event I did enjoy Samba – but I can understand some of the critical responses. Part of the problem is that the film mixes several distinct genres in a way that might certainly confound some audiences and which provides good ammunition for critics.
Samba is both a comedy and a drama. It also mixes a quite complex visual style – a pre-credits sequence aping Scorsese (in his Goodfellas period) – with both absurdist and slapstick comedy and some social realism. In genre terms it includes elements of the buddy movie mixed with the rom-com and social commentary. All in all it is a strange mixture but its good points shouldn’t get lost. It isn’t really very helpful to dismiss films because they try to do something different.
Headlining alongside Omar Sy are Charlotte Gainsbourg and Tahar Rahim. Gainsbourg provides the ‘romance-comedy-drama’ potential and Rahim enables the buddy movie. Gainsbourg’s character is a marketing executive who has ‘burned out’ and has decided to take a sabbatical as a support worker for a refugee/migrant charity. This is how she meets Samba (Sy) who has been imprisoned and given an order to leave France despite 10 years illegal residency and steady employment in kitchen work, albeit with a struggle to get from dish-washing to food preparation. Rahim’s character, another migrant with a similar history, eventually teams up with Samba in a series of casual jobs leading to various comic escapades. Although the narrative resolution suggests a ‘feelgood’ film, the ending is to some extent still ‘open’ and it is triggered by one of the important debates around identity and legal status. The resolution is only possible after a tragic event. The style of the film’s ending also echoes the ‘excess’ of the opening, using popular songs under a slow motion image sequence much as the whole narrative has used songs and ‘mood’ music throughout.
So what is wrong with the film? Ashley Clark, currently one of the UK’s most respected critics of African-American and Black British films, states what he sees as a fundamental flaw directly in his indieWire review:
Without apparent irony, Nakache and Toledano seem to think that the work-related burnout of a white middle-class woman, while of course unpleasant in its own way, is equivalent to the byzantine existential crisis of living job-to-job, hand-to-mouth as an undocumented immigrant (in a country with well-documented right-leaning tendencies on domestic policy.)
It’s hard to argue with that view and Clark does recognise that the film is genuinely trying to widen its potential audience, but, he argues, the narrative needs more grit and more background about Samba and his family – mother is back in Senegal and Samba lives with a (legally resident) uncle. Clark argues that Sy ‘soars above’ the material. I agree but perhaps this is also part of the problem? Sy is such a charismatic performer that audiences may simply be entertained by his playing rather than led to think through the social problems that Samba faces. Something similar was also true in Intouchables.
The strength of the film is that it does reveal the dreadful state of immigration policy in France and the absurd bureaucracy that attempts to control it. I’m not sure it is better in the UK – represented in the superior Stephen Frears film Dirty Pretty Things (UK 2002) with Chiwetel Ejiofor in the lead. The other issue at stake here is the star turn by Omar Sy in a mainstream film. His scenes with Charlotte Gainsbourg do fleetingly remind us of her notorious scenes with two (anonymous) African men in Lars Von Trier’s Nymphomaniac Part II (Denmark/Bel/Fra/Ger 2014). I mention this only to ask how much of a breakthrough it is for French mainstream cinema as distinct from art cinema to see a white woman with a black man on screen? Tahar Rahim’s presence in the film (which I very much enjoyed in spite of some reviewers’ misgivings) reminds us that Maghrebi French actors have not faced the same problems in French cinema (and international cinema) as West African French actors.
In Sight and Sound (May 2015), leading French cinema scholar Ginette Vincendeau offers a critique similar to Ashley Clark’s. She makes a good point in pointing out that like Intouchables, Samba involves “the pairing of an under-privileged-but-vigorous black with privileged-but-etiolated white (Gainsbourg at her most annoyingly wan)”. I disagree about Gainsbourg but it’s an important observation. Too often film narratives that should be about the black character end up diverting our attention to the trials of the white characters. But Vincendeau also picks out two specific scenes as ‘unworthy’ of the actors or supporting her argument above. The first sees Sy and Rahim in a take-off of a well-known soft drinks ad and the second sees “white people attempt, not very well, to dance to black music (in this case Bob Marley)”. I think this is going too far. The first may be a ‘clunky ‘ visual joke (but still funny), but the second is something that has happened throughout the last 50 years in the UK. Is it really a clumsy and at times dubious representation of racial difference? Perhaps it’s different in France? We have to grant Samba some slack as a mainstream movie. Yes, it could be a lot ‘better’, but it isn’t that bad and overall it does something useful.
I suspect that for many fans of ‘World Cinema’ one of the main attractions is the opportunity to vicariously experience different landscapes and urban environments. Shun Li and the Poet represents the town of Choggia in the Veneto region of North East Italy so strikingly that audiences are likely to feel that they have actually been there. I know that I’m tempted to book a trip right now.
Writer-director Andrea Segre is primarily a documentarist and also a researcher in the ‘Sociology of Communication’. He brought all his experience into play in creating this study of the meeting of two migrants from different communities in the very specific waterside setting of the Veneto region. The Press Notes for the film are a very useful source of material detailing the background to the production which was developed via various production labs.
Shun Li is a Chinese migrant worker from the coastal city of Fouzhou in South East China. We see her first working in a sweatshop in Rome. She is summoned by the bosses and told that she is being sent to Choggia where she is installed as the single worker running a small café-bar (osteria) on the waterfront, mainly used by fishermen. Gradually she gets used to the regular customers, mostly older men who have retired from full-time work. They are generally welcoming, teaching her the local dialect. One of the men, Bepi, is a widower who came to the area thirty years previously from the former Yugoslavia after Tito’s death. He is known among the men as ‘the Poet’ because he can produce attractive rhyming couplets and this helps him find common ground with Shun Li who celebrates the work of the classical Chinese poet Qu Yuan. Shun Li also tells Bepi that the men of her family have been fishermen for generations. Apart from the developing relationship between the two poetry lovers, not much happens in the plot but eventually the friendship creates unease among both the local residents and the Chinese bosses who control Shun Li’s fate. There is some mystery attached to exactly how the situation is resolved – a mystery enhanced by a mise en scène dominated by the dark alleyways, mists and watery sun, the overflowing canals and the fishing huts and stationary nets in the lagoon. Anyone terrified by the Venice of Nic Roeg’s Don’t Look Now (1973) will be familiar with how affecting a glance under a bridge or down an alley can be in this part of the world. None of these images are created in an obviously expressionistic way but the views of the Dolomites, snow-capped mountains that seem to loom over the coastline on the other side of the lagoon, are extraordinary (they are actually over 100 kms away). The mountains are only visible at certain times (see this Flickr photo).
The success of the film partly derives from the terrific performances of the leads. Zhao Tao as Shun Li brings her wonderfully still presence from the films of Jia Zhangke – films that in some ways share the sense of place, working-class cultures and social change. Rade Sherbedgia is well-cast as a Yugoslavian who has now become a valued presence in international features. The rest of the cast comprises a mixture of professionals and non-professionals from the region. Segre’s experience and research shows in the beautiful long shots and the handling of scenes on the water and in the bar. This is one of my films of the year and I was very pleased to be able to see it on the big screen of the Pictureville Cinema in Bradford. It has taken some time to reach the UK and I was only aware of the film because it had been discussed at the Chinese Film Forum in Manchester earlier this year. Curzon/Artificial Eye have the UK rights and they seem happy to play it online – I haven’t seen it getting much theatrical exposure but if you go to the Artificial Eye website you can find any play dates or how to watch it online.
Here’s the UK trailer. It’s a very good trailer and I’d be surprised if you didn’t want to see the film: