The African Film Industry Is Not Dead

Over recent years, films in Africa, especially in the South African film market, have been discredited as a consequence of their attempts to mimic tried and true Hollywood film techniques, instead of depicting stories unique to the African landscape. I have, however, recently come to uncover a goldmine of independent and cinematically impressive, unique African films in a space that I would have least expected to.

When enrolling for my first year at university in 2020, I expected to learn a lot, not only about the world, but about myself; however, what I did not imagine was how immersed in cultural art forms I might become simply based on the coursework I was assigned. When it came time to choose courses, I was unconvinced that taking a film course would offer me much academically, and was thus apprehensive about enrolling for one. However, now, almost three years down the line, I have found myself exposed to African film forms that I am convinced I might never have come across if not for having taken film.

This “feud” follows that which has taken place between Millennials and the so-called Boomers, the generation said to be born between 1946 and 1964. This clash follows the age-old notion that each generation will live to be disappointed in their successors, as the youth will continue to actively reject what those born in the generations ahead of them may expect of them.

The first film that I took a great liking to was a postcolonial, South African film called Love The One You Love (2014), directed by Jenna Bass. Despite being not even a decade old, it holds as a subtle reflection of the plight of the postcolonial South African citizen, who, even if they do not know it, is haunted by the false promises of democracy. Despite no blatant discussion of the so-called “rainbow nation” itself, the characters attempt to navigate their individual lives under this new South Africa. The storyline interrogates the honest and sometimes uncomfortable aspects of love, with the characters not realising themselves that their issues might have more to do with postcolonial expectations of the life that a “born free” is to lead, than one might think.

Now, I must be clear that a lot of my analysis of the film derives from my own opinion along with the course resources offered to me that have informed my personal viewing, and therefore, my perception of the film could differ vastly from your own as the reader, if you perhaps do decide to watch the film. I will, however, share my favourite parts of the film. I thoroughly enjoyed the several moments of stillness between scenes, where nothing at all happened apart from perhaps natural sounds of the ocean, or random videotape footage of the characters that did not play an integral role in the plotline, but induced a sort of closeness between viewer and character. I also enjoyed the raw vulnerability of the character’s and the narrative decision to not shy away from, but instead focus on their individual emotional and psychological issues, without wrapping it all up in a neat “hollywood-esque” conclusion, allowing the film to be a bit open-ended and inconclusive, truer to reality.

It is important to note that films like Tsotsi, Mapantsula, and the likes, are also interesting films produced in South Africa as a form of social commentary, but I believe they have already received their due credit, and would like to centre lesser-known films that I have had the privilege of being introduced to. With that said, outside of Africa, there exists an even greater array of fantastic film productions. Other films that I have been exposed to during my studies include Mati Diop’s Atlantics (2019), and Rugano Nyoni’s I Am Not A Witch (2017), both of which are directed by black women of African descent. Both of these films incorporate interrogations of stories of witches and spirits, concepts that are unfamiliar to the West, but form integral parts of many cultures and even some religions practiced in Africa, to issue their social commentary.

Atlantics drew me for the same reasons that Love The One You Love did, in the slow contemplativeness of it’s cinematic techniques. Its centrality on African women, as well as its interrogation of labour exploitation in postcolonial Africa as its central narrative, were also interesting narrative approaches that drew me during my own viewing. Alternatively, the colours and the simplistic narrative are what took my liking in my viewing of I Am Not A Witch. Furthermore, not only do these films have something to say, they also showcase much of the untapped talent in Africa, featuring many first-time actors who take on their leading roles quite well in my opinion.

Even so, there are many ways to enjoy a film that do not necessarily require one to think, contemplate and unpack its meaning, but what I think I love about these films are that you can choose whether or not you would like to read into the commentary, or whether you would prefer to watch it simply as is, both sides of the coin allowing for an enjoyable viewing. That said, I have not even scratched the surface of films like these that exist in contemporary Africa, as there are many more to be found. I am, however, grateful that they managed to find me. I must still admit though, that I have a long way to go before I can see more of, and fully comprehend the amount of cinematic talents that exist within our own African borders.

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