100 Days

100 days is a sad, sad movie about the Rwandan Genocide.  My favorite thing about this movie though is the way it deals with the genocide so subtly.  Easily, 100 days could be a simple cry.  Like paint by numbers, this could be one of those movies where the director shows his audience exactly where he wants them to feel the emotional pull.  But not this movie.  Nick Hughes (the director) instead chose to focus on specific character development.   In fact, the overall toll of the genocide is never specifically mentioned.  Still, the audience is bawling by the end.

The emotional pull of 100 days is entirely due to a cleverly crafted character/audience relationship.  The two main characters, Baptiste (Eric Bridges Twahirwa)  and Josette (Cleophas Kabisita), are young lovers intending to be married.  From the beginning, the scenes with just these two are vibrant and happy.  The first time we see them together they are playing in trees.  The colors on the screen are bright and the camera picks up various shafts of light coming through the trees.  The dialogue is simple but conveys a youthful sense of hope.  Even Josette's dress, which she proudly proclaims is from, "Paris!" is colorful and full of life, just like the young people themselves.  From this scene the audience has a sense of progression, that these two want life to be better for themselves and future generations.  Josette refuses to sleep with Baptiste because she doesn't want to be pregnant and unhappily married, as she says, "like my other friends."  They want to have children when they choose and wear clothing from far away.  These dreams and others like them are so similar to this American audience that we can't help but be swept away with Josette and Baptiste. 

 

There is one beautiful shot in this sequence that deserves special remark.  When they are discussing their future, Josette and Baptiste are sitting on the forest floor on a small hill.  The camera looks up at them, Josette in the foreground on the right and Baptiste far in the background on the top left.  At this point this shot is jarring because it places the lovers physically distant from each other.  Unfortunately this is a camera's way of foreshadowing their future.  

At the end of the movie we see an almost identical shot.  Josette is sitting on the right in the foreground, and Baptiste on the top left corner in the background.  However, Josette's beautiful dress is now discolored, torn and dull.  Baptiste too has dirt and blood on him, and looks to have aged ten years in those short 100 days.  Even without viewing the movie, these two production stills get the point across vividly.

A movie about genocide could easily go overboard on the violence.  Although it is important to recognize that horrific things did happen, the danger is that, somehow, showing too much of this in a film is more likely to desensitize the audience than make the needed point.  This is much like Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ, which endeavors to make a religious/humanistic point but is overwhelmingly remembered for its excessive violence. A movie about genocide could end up similarly.  Instead, there are relatively few direct discussions of the genocide happening around the characters.  One such scene is a simple yet horrific shot of body after body after body being dumped into a pit.  Some of the bodies aren't even fully in the pit.  The visual trick of seeing a dead body hanging only half over a ledge and some villain walking over the former person with no sense of decorum shows the genius of Hughes.  Without use of dialogue he has effectively captured the evil of the genocide.  

Another scene with very little dialogue but huge portent comes almost exactly in the middle of the film.  Interestingly, the larger part of the violence only takes place in the second half of the movie.  However, the inhumanity can be summed up in a single scene.  The scene begins with three groups of men coming to a crossroads (how symbolic) with a gas station in the middle.  The Tutsi children from the local boys school are called forth by name and put in the gas station.  The gas station is filled with kerosene, but even after the order is given to burn it no one will carry the torch.  Finally a single man takes charge of the fire, and only after this do the others join in.  This scene seems to me significant for two reasons: 1) No one wanted to lead the violence, only follow it.  They have no real reason to cause the disturbance, but follow almost gleefully when another leads.  2) The schoolchildren don't scream.  Even when the kerosene seeps into their single-room prison, these 10 year old men don't scream.  Instead, there is a beautiful pan shot of the boys protecting each other.  How powerful.

Lastly and perhaps most poignant is a dreadful scene at the end of the film.  At first the Tutsis were captive in a church, at which point they were abandoned by the UN and effectively left to their deaths.  At this point however it is the Hutus who have taken refuge in the church and are now trapped.  A small child asks why the Tutsis are different.  A woman answers her that Tutsis have long fingers and lighter skin, all the while stroking the child's fingers and face. The visual effect is creepy, but the dialogue here is all important.  In a single question and answer these two have summed up the problem.  The child cannot understand how the oppressed are any different from she, and the only answer the "knowledgeable" adult has is that they are physically different, and not even remarkably so.

How indescribably awful that a million people were killed for having slightly longer fingers.

Overall, the most remarkable part of 100 Days is that it conveys the deep sense of horror without specifically dwelling on the genocide.  This is the genius of the film.  The audience walks away with a deeply ingrained sense of frustration, indignation, disgust and an incredible sadness without even seeing the full effect of the genocide on the Rwandan people.  A remarkable film.

Some Fun

A witty, silly, and somehow pretty accurate trailer for Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart.

ZOOOOOOM!

Faat Kine, at first glance, is a happy little movie about a single mother living her life. However, with only the slightest effort, the deeper aspects of the movie unfold to deliver a stunning piece of work concerning a plethora of themes. Just some of these are; gender relations, problems with tradition, friendship, charity, feminism and even love. With the cunning combination of wit, humor and just a little bite thrown into the mix, Ousmane Sembene created a powerful movie with far reaching social implications.

I have to admit, the very first technical aspect I noticed about Faat Kine was the focus-pull shot that opens the movie. Unfortunately, due to its rarity, I was unable to see the movie before the appointed time, and we discussed this aspect in class before I was able to write about it! I will take this as a vote of confidence in my own viewing, and go forth with another noticable trait.

One distinct technical aspect was the use of zoom on Kine's face. This is particularly interesting because there was no use of zoom in Sia, the first African movie our class viewed. I think for this reason I noticed the use of a zoom in Faat Kine.

The first time the zoom is used is when we the audience first meet Kine. She has worked her way up to managing a gas station, and is sitting comfortably in her white doctor-ish coat. Several people come in to her office, and each time the zoom is only on Kine's face.

One person who comes to visit is a woman selling flowers. By zooming in on Kine's face we can see her caring nature. It is almost as if Sembene is inviting us to be closer to her ourselves. The audience recognizes immediately the sweetness and charity embodied in Kine. We feel as if we would like to be closer to a woman like her. This feeling is undoubtedly increased by the visual aspect of moving closer to her.

However, these charming feelings are quickly tempered in comparison with another visitor, the man who left her pregnant and uneducated. This time, the zoom allows the audience to focus on her harder nature. She becomes almost masculine in her motions, and the slight pull towards the focal point of her face allows the audience to recognize her harsher character traits. Indeed, it is at this point that we can see some flaws in her skin. This was probably unintentional. Even still, it is almost as if the camera itself is recognizing all the character traits of Kine.

Through the use of zoom, we are able to see Kine at her most personal. This means the audience is privy to both her personable and giving nature as well as her harder, masculine traits. Although unconscious, the zoom allows these recognitions to take place. It takes a true genius to implement these smallest of details in such an effective manner.

Ousmane Sembene

Interesting and Award winning video of Ousmane Sembene

Experiment with Blog Sounds

Gabcast! My Blog Sounds Like.... #1

Ousmane Sembene

We've created a website for our African Film and Literature class about Ousmane Sembene, the Father of African Cinema. Please feel free to visit and comment!!

Also we have a very simple website for his movie Faat Kine. Please visit that as well!

In the Cutting of a Drink

My nephew was gone a long time.

He was gone from the last of Lent to Christmas. Too long for a son who will come back. But he did come back. He came home again in time for the celebration of Christmas, but he did not bring Mansa.

My nephew went to Accra to a place called Mamprobi to find his sister. He tells us he stayed in the house of his friend Duaywaw. He took a long time to tell us this story. My brothers and my sisters and my littlest neice, we waited for him to bring her back and then we waited to hear the reason she was not there.

He told us of the dizzying cars in Accra. I do not understand these cars. Where in our country are there so many people with the money to buy cars? Our money goes to our children, to the growing of yams. But these people, they have cars to drive them to their farms. Perhaps they have no farms. I do not know. I do not know of these people.

My nephew was patient in his telling. Our family had many questions and gave him constant interruption. He allowed our questions but answered only a few. He requested a drink from me to clear his throat. It was then that I knew he was telling a sad story. Only the sad stories are difficult to tell.

My nephew found a bus to take him to Mamprobi. I worried that the driver would decieve a confused young man, but my nephew assured me he met Duayaw safely. Duayaw was asleep, in the afternoon on a Saturday. My nephew says Duayaw has gained much wealth. The Lord has blessed his family.

Duayaw in his youth went to school with Mansa. Duayaw became wealthy. My neice, she refused school after Klase Tri. She caused trouble for her mother until I found her a teacher who would educate Mansa in the ways of a woman. She came back for Christmas and showed us her skill in sewing and keeping the house. But the next Christmas she did not return. For twelve years she has not come back to her home. That is why my nephew went to find her.

Duayaw made my nephew believe Mansa has found a big man. As my nephew told the story, I believed too that perhaps she had found a big man in the city. Ei! That would be well for her. But Mansa was a good girl in her youth. If she had found fortune she would have come to her family to bring them wealth. But she has not. Because of this, even though I hoped, I knew in my heart she had not married a big man.

Duayaw knew much about Mamprobi. He knew that it was too big a city to find a young girl. But Mansa was only young when she left. She was ten when I last saw her. She would be a woman now. Duayaw discouraged my nephew. But all the same he would help.

My nephew told us that Duayaw has a woman. She is not of his tribe. They should not marry. A man should respect his tribe. Duayaw has been blessed by the Lord, but will be out of favor if he continues with this woman. She even eats with the men! I did not believe when my nephew told me this. I shouted, "Ei!" but my nephew says it is true.

It was just before my nephew told us of his night out in Mamprobi that he asked for a drink. This began the sad part of the telling. I knew it was sad because he asked for a drink.

I did not believe him when he said he went to dance in the big city. People in the city do not dance. They do not have the schooling of their elders to teach them. They do not have the cloths to dance in. Ei! But they dance all the same. My nephew tells me, so it is true.

I did not believe either that Duayaw's woman would drink beer. But my nephew says she did drink, and sitting with the men. He says there were many women in the place. The women of the city drink beer. They drink beer even with men who are not their husbands. This city is not blessed by the Lord.

My nephew danced. I am proud that he danced in the ways of his people. He even began to dance with the women there. These women, they are not married and yet they drink beer and go together to a dance with no men. They dance with any man they choose and paint their lips to look the same as their blood. My nephew tells me this is true.

He danced with one of the women. She laughed when he spoke Fante. Then he danced with another woman. She took him to a place with bright light. It was there that she screamed at him. "Any kind of work is work! You villager, you villager, who are you!" he tells us she said. This girl, she had painted her face too. But in the bright light my nephew knew her. He put his hands on her shoulders to calm her but she threw them away. A sister treating her brother so! But she did not know him. When she did recognize him, she only laughed. And she did not come home with him She is a bad woman, a woman who will take a man to a corner of a dance in the city. But it was Mansa. And she is coming home at Christmas.

My nephew asked someone to cut another drink. I asked for one too.

*This story is a retelling of In the Cutting of a Drink, the short story by Ama Ata Aidoo