Last Thursday, I watched three Tanzanian movies. In some, I could recognize the buildings, people I had spoken to. I could feel the quality of the light, appreciate the compromises forced onto the stories. It was as revealing as watching a home video. Is this what some lucky Americans feel when they go to a Hollywood movie? The appeal of foreign movies frankly pales against the self-interest and satisfaction of watching local film. It is a great feeling.
First up was '
Weakness,': written and produced by Abdu Simba and directed by Wanjiru Kairu. Originally meant for a BBC radio competition, Abdu had a chance to get his script made during the sadly short lived MNet show
'The Agency' and he took it. Thank goodness. Now listen: this film's biggest flaw is that you can tell it was hastily shot. As good as the actors and cobbled together crew was, the seams are visible. The characters are sometimes forced and dialogue is left hanging uncertainly, the soundtrack is way bizarre in its boominosity, and the lighting doesn't do justice to the set or the actors' complexions.
So what? The script soared and dipped with dramatic tension. It was unexpectedly angular at times, uncomfortable. The casting turned out to be slyly effective. How fine it would be to see this again with a real budget, some time, and an editor with the sensitivity to caress all the pieces into place, because there is something going on here. I really believe it could be made beautiful in the city of its conception, maybe even using some local talent. Better yet, it has a static quality and simplicity that would make for an excellent stage production. What about the women, you ask? 'Weakness' had peripheral female characters inserted into its Cain and Abel plot, a bit chattel-like. Bit parts.
The second film,
'Mwamba Ngoma' did not know whether it was a documentary about Tanzanian music history or a promotional documentary about
Wahapahapa. So let me disclaim right here: thank you kindly for your good work, Wahapahapa, this was by far the most glossy and professionally shot film and it shows. Now onto the critical: this documentary started out being satisfying, and deliciously engrossing- Ngoma za Jadi, Muziki wa Ala, Muziki wa Dansi, through to Bongo Flava. The film had a good ear, humor, heart, and a light insightful touch- marks of being made by people who know and love the subject.
Mwamba Ngoma was on its way to greatness. Then, the Wahapahapa agenda intruded and made it about the message (HIV/Aids and Aid) instead of the people and art. So now, it is what it is not quite one thing, not quite the other.
I would have been quite crazy about this movie if it had been made sans agenda-driven patronage. Let me not mince words: some forms of compromise can really suck the soul out of a project. Mwamba Ngoma has been nominated in the documentary category of the African Movie Awards and I hope it wins, just to put Tanzanian musicians on the map and maybe encourage the director and producers to make the movie it could have been: something to give the
Buena Vista Social Club documentary a run for its money. The woman angle? High marks. Mwamba Ngoma featured female artists and performers centrally.
Finally, James Gayo's
'The Trip' was an unexpected bit of fun. What worked: the sly situational humor and sparse dialogue that is reminiscent of Gayo's cartoon work in Kingo. The charming actors, who could have overplayed this into the outer reaches of farce but instead infused it with restraint and credibility that paid off. Note to TZ actors: you don't have to roll your eyes to show disbelief. Also, the matter-of-factness of the plot. This was some very competent comedy, really fun stuff that would probably have a similar appeal as
Stephen Chow's work (he did the awesome Kung Fu Hustle). The Trip has a similar oddly timeless quality- contemporary with a strong element of myth. And 'The Trip' specialized in saucy village wenches who were smart and knew how to have a little fun. Heh.
What didn't work: another example of opportunistic compromise, Mr. Gayo's movie was made in Uganda. This lead to some cognitive dissonances: one of the actors slips quite comfortably into Luganda on occasion, confusing the hell out of the dialogue. And the subtitles are in French, which may be a little challenging for an East African audience. Then, there is the notion of a couple of guys traveling by bus from an unnamed (though visually very Lake Zone) rural area to Tanga on the east coast of Tanzania for a job. Dude, what?! And finally: Baganda men playing on a Bao board made out of Mpingo so that a suitor can win himself a wife. Erm. I don't think so. Artistic license.
As it was, the theatre was filled with movie makers whose work hasn't been Big Screened for paying audiences in-country. Which is, like, beyond criminal. And that is how this evening ended: with the hanging question of how to make this kind of thing happen on a regular basis, even if its something as small as two-week annual movie festival in Dar es Salaam.
