African Cinemas: national cinema and neo-colonialism

 

African cinemas: colonialism, neo-colonialism and national narratives 

African cinema and national cinema: a paradox

Due to my background in international relations, I am convinced that analysing cultural output of any country or region requires taking into account the histories and geopolitics of the entity concerned. This rung even more true when I started learning more deeply about African cinemas.

The notion of African cinema constitutes a paradox. Indeed, authors, amongst whom nigerian author Chimamanda Adichie, have highlighted highlighted the danger of a single story by emphasising that it leads to ideas of Africa that are incomplete (TED Talk by Chimamanda Adichie; source). Furthermore, in his article "Confusing a Country for a Continent: How We Talk About Africa" published in The Atlantic in 2003, Arit outlined the harms of the Western perception which assimilates African countries with the continent itself. For Arit, this generates harmful stereotypes encompassing the white saviour narrative as well as images of poverty and catastrophe. 

Does this mean that referring to specific national cinemas would be more accurate when looking at African cinema? 

The idea of nationhood and nation formation on the African continent is a recent phenomenon imposed by colonialism (source). In Africa, nation-states were built around the imposition of arbitrary borders cutting across existing communities and cultures (source). Thus, ethnic groups with shared histories transcend borders. To this is added the shared experience of colonialism and exploitation across the continent. This colonial legacy can be seen when looking at national African cinemas and its regulations and co-productions with their former coloniser. This is the case with Luso-African co-productions for instance (source). While this depends on the coloniser country, these dynamics prevail across the continent and reflect neo-colonial mechanisms put in place through the definition of nationhood in Africa.

Taking these two elements, we are left with a paradox: while nationhood is a colonial legacy in Africa, which would question the relevance of national cinema, looking at ‘African cinema’ also contributes to the false perception of Africa as a unified whole and could discredit national cinemas. 

Shared colonial legacy and common themes

The shared colonial trauma mentioned above, and the presence of shared histories which transcend borders leads to common themes in African cinema. A particular common theme which stands out is the theme of spirituality. In The Lost Okoroshi (2019), a Nigerian film directed by Abba Makama, Raymond transforms into an Okoroshi spirit and attempts to reintegrate his life under a different form. Similarly, Atlantique (2019), a Senegalese film directed by Mati Diop, addresses spirituality through the possession of young women by the souls of men lost at sea. It is interesting to point out that this theme of spirituality is not unique to African cinema and can be found in other regional cinemas such as South East Asian cinema and in specific genres such as Anime (source). 

Films in African cinema also often present a mix of tradition and modernity and a specific focus on ancestry (source ; source). This is beautifully shown through music in The Lost Okoroshi. Indeed, when Raymond becomes the spirit, the music is a mix of traditional and modern pop music. This musical mix of tradition and modernity is found throughout the film. Furthermore, both showcase a return to spirituality and a reconnection with the roots of their beliefs. This is made clear in The Lost Okoroshi as the village elder explains the spirits’ stories in his local language. This contrasts with the English used in most of the film. Thus, there appears to be cinematographic similarities between African countries.

 

National cinema: reclaiming and redefining narratives

Certain authors argue that it is the power of and organisation around national cinema which allows populations to reclaim and redefine their narratives (source). Thus, national cinema creates an artistic space free of oppression allowing filmmakers to express local grievances (source). Despite transcendence of borders, Africa now showcases particular national identities and cultures as nationalism enabled decolonisation (source). Therefore, national stories start to emerge and there is a danger in referring to African cinema as it could lead to a ‘single story’.

When cinema is referred to as cinema of a particular geographical region, the danger is getting stuck in stereotypes and see every story told from this region as similar in terms of content, topics and cultural expression. This is the danger of a single story as explained in my introduction. This stresses the importance of enabling various narratives to emerge and acknowledging them. Thus, if sticking to a single story can be harmful to local communities, surely the term African cinema is harmful to national narratives and cinema?

African cinema possesses a diversity of aesthetics and of cultural and economic histories which can define national cinemas (source; source). For scholars, acknowledging and promoting national cinema in Africa provides a cohesion mechanism around local culture and beliefs; particularly as some African countries are establishing national cultures (source). In The Lost Okoroshi, the Okoroshi masquerade is founded in the Igbo ethnic group native to southern Nigeria (source). This, in combination with the use of local language and the tradition-modernity mix, is a powerful reclamation of the Nigerian narrative. Thus, while it seems that African cinemas address similar themes, themes often relate to local experiences.

The Silences of the Palace (1994), directed by Moufida Tlatli, also conveys the specific colonial experience in 1960s Tunisia as shown by radio intermissions highlighting the French invasion. Furthermore, when talking about their relationship, Lofti mentions that Alia is ‘indecisive like this country’ (1:26). This implies that understanding her indecisiveness requires knowing about Tunisia’s local context as her behaviour is assimilated to her country. Thus, the local context and the reclaiming of the colonial narrative becomes apparent.

African cinema, a term to reconsider? 

Following from the research I did on the topic of African cinemas, it seems that the idea of African cinema whilst avoiding the colonial imposition of nationhood also contributes to harmful neo-colonial narratives which see Africa as a homogenous entity. But, by putting the existence of national cinema at the forefront of African cinema and referring to separate countries as is done in Europe or in North America, national narratives are portrayed as important whilst also acknowledging the colonial imposition of nationhood in Africa and the shifting nature of African cultures and identities (source).

French cinema: Suspense

Clouzot's cinema: suspense through french eyes

*Text includes spoilers for 'Les Diaboliques', 'Psycho' & 'Le Salaire de la Peur'*

Discovering Clouzot

'The Master of Suspense' label is often attributed to Hitchcock for his thriller and drama films (source). Being a fan of Hitchcock, I was surprised to discover Clouzot's cinema and the parallels between the filmmakers. Indeed, Clouzot's cinema made me rethink seeing Hitchcock as the only ‘Master of suspense’. It felt like the title of ‘Master of Suspense’ should be shared between the two and attributing it to Hitchcock would discredit Clouzot’s cinema and French cinema’s ability to live up to its American counterpart.

Clouzot and Hitchcock have been known to compete for film rights for the same projects. These interactions testify to the competition which existed between French and American cinema, and in particular to French cinema trying to compete on the American stage (source). By watching Clouzot's films, I became aware of the dynamics which existed between the cinema of these two countries (my knowledge of French cinema being previously limited to the New Wave). More specifically, Clouzot’s films testify that French cinema can live up to its American counterpart and even influence it.

Clouzot's suspense: 'Les Diaboliques' *Includes spoilers*

In Les Diaboliques (1955), the final scene showcases Clouzot’s cinematographic proficiency in building suspense. The focus is on an unidentifiable silhouette which we can assume is the dead, or not, husband Michel. This fantom figure is created through the use of dark and light contrasts with doors creaking and opening and an empty dark hallway. The suspense is enhanced by extreme close-ups of hands and body parts. This is found again in the shower scene of Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) where the murderer is also a shadowy non-identifiable figure. The theme also appears in Psycho through the blurring of life and death. The resuscitation of Michel and his presence in the institute like a ghost echoes the mother’s presence through Norman Bates. Whilst Hitchcock does this through Norman’s internalisation of his mother, Clouzot is more subtle as he introduces the boy who sees the supposedly “dead” characters, making death’s uncertainty imminent.

As with Hitchcock, the suspense with Clouzot is held out by stretching time and making the audience wait (source). We follow Christine’s worry that the dead husband is discovered as the boys start playing around the pool where the two women dropped the body. The audience is waiting for and expecting the body’s discovery. This contributes to building suspense as the time of discovery nears and the dead reappear. Thus the parallels between the two filmmakers’ films and Les Diaboliques being produced 5 years before Psycho makes Clouzot Hitchcock’s likely inspiration (source). The popular opinion, here, is that Psycho was Hitchcock's attempt to outperform his rival, Clouzot, in the creation of suspense. 

Another example: 'Le Salaire de la Peur'

Le Salaire de la peur (1953) is also a remarkable demonstration of Clouzot’s creation of suspense. The build-up is translated through sound and visual cues when the four trucker protagonists blow up a boulder blocking the road: Bimba pours the nitro-glycerine, Mario taps his lighter and M. Jo taps the truck. These medium shots then become close-ups of M. Jo’s hands tapping and of Luigi chewing his cigar. The alternating close-ups of Bimba pouring the nitro-glycerine and the tapping echoing the ticking of a clock heightens the scene’s tension in a subtly astounding way.

In this film, Clouzot also plays with premonition. Whilst the road’s danger are outlined through the worries of Mario's lover Linda, the second group of truckers provides an indication of what could go wrong. For instance, the rotten wood on the platform, which breaks when the first group passes, creates a situation where the viewer knows about the dangers Mario and M. Jo ignore. Furthermore, the presence of broken walls and danger signs along the road announce Mario’s death by driving off the road through the wall. These premonitions contribute to Clouzot’s impressive creation of suspense. Le Salaire de la Peur, shows the extent of Clouzot’s craft by creating suspense in a film that is not necessarily associated with the thriller genre as deaths are caused by natural hazards and their psychological effects rather than by homicide or murder (source).

End note

Clouzot's cinema and his work on suspense opened my eyes to another 'Master of Suspense'. Being a fan of Hitchcock films, I did not expect to find a similar mastery of suspense closer to home. Filmmakers like Clouzot testify to the international competition that Hollywood has been faced with, in the 50s. This competition, which we have seen in previous blogposts, rings even more true today with the increased presence of international films at previously 'Hollywood' / American centred events. Overall, the insights this film gave on French cinema's importance, its history and its intercultural influences was remarkable. Indeed, the dynamics between Hollywood and national cinemas (in this case French cinema) have always been more complex than the Hollywood dominant narrative suggests.