The construction of Sembene’s film is subtle and seductive. He spends little time denouncing female circumcision, and a great deal of time studying the human nature of dissent and conformity. There is humor in the paradoxes that the men debate, and in their impotence against their women, and suspense when the prodigal son returns from Paris. On the most fundamental of levels, this is an entertaining film. Also a beautiful one, as we admire the artistry of the architecture, and appreciate how the people of the village live within the rules and respect them, even when opposing them. These people, despite some of their practices, are deeply decent and civilized, and Sembene loves them for it. The movie contains less outrage than regret.
The Father of African Cinema
Sembene’s death at eighty-four, on June 9, 2007, brought to a close an extraordinary life, one that parallels in some ways Nelson Mandela’s. Neither was born into wealth and privilege, and both achieved greatness. Although he was known for years as “the father of the African cinema” and wrote six novels before he decided films would reach a larger audience, Sembene as a young man (I learn from IMDb.com) was a mechanic, a bricklayer, a soldier for the Free French, a labor leader, an autoworker, and a stevedore. His first novel came in 1956, his first movie (Black Girl) in 1966.
That film told the story of the ill treatment a young Senegalese woman finds when she goes to work as an au pair in Paris. But Sembene did not devote himself to dramatizing the evils of whites against blacks on his continent. He was more interested in drama, conflicts, and comedy within the vibrant African civilization.
Consider his wonderful film Guelwaar (1992). In his country, Muslims live side-by-side with Catholics, and his story involves a mix-up that accidentally results in the burial of a Catholic body in a Muslim cemetery. When an attempt to move the body is made, the Muslims are outraged—not because the body is there, but because the removal would desecrate the cemetery. A local policeman, himself a Muslim, tries to defuse the situation and prevent a nasty fight.
This story could involve stereotypes and fan the flames of prejudice. But not with Sembene. He portrays all the characters as people who are reasonable, by their own lights, and would be content with a solution that did not violate their beliefs. And all religions contain a fuzzy area that allows common sense to sometimes win over dogma. All it takes here is a persuasive policeman, and some wise people on both sides who are weary of the hotheads.
Sembene’s work so often dealt with his society from the inside, with sympathy, insight, and the sly wit of a Bernard Shaw. He made political films that didn’t seem political, and comedies that were very serious. His regret was that many of his films, including Moolaadé, were not welcome in Africa. He won awards at Venice, Karlovy Vary, and many other important festivals; Moolaadé won first place in the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes. But according to IMDb, the film has played nowhere in Africa except Morocco. The message is not heard where it is needed.
Ousmane Sembene was born into an Africa where a black man was not expected to write novels or direct films. He dedicated his life to making brave and useful films that his continent needed to see. He did that even knowing they probably would not be seen. They exist. They wait. They honor his memory.
Note: Most of Sembene’s films are available on DVD.
My Uncle Antoine
NO MPAA RATING, 104 m., 1971
Jacques Gagnon (Benoit), Lyne Champagne (Carmen), Jean Duceppe (Uncle Antoine). Directed by Claude Jutra and produced by Marc Beaudet. Screenplay by Clément Perron.
The key action in Claude Jutra’s Mon Oncle Antoine (1971) takes place over a period of twenty-four hours in a Quebec mining town. Although the film begins earlier in the year, everything comes to a focus beginning on the morning of Christmas Eve and closing on the dawn of Christmas. During that time, a young boy has had his life forever changed. This beloved Canadian film is rich in characters, glowing with life in the midst of death.
The town is Black Hawk, surrounded by the slag heaps of asbestos mines. The action is “not so very long ago,” the 1940s. The town is poor, and people still live in old-fashioned ways and travel by horse, carriage, or train. The film opens with an argument between a Quebecois mine worker named Joe Poulin (Lionel Villeneuve) and his English-speaking boss. We soon understand that Joe hates the “English” and hates the mine, and he quits on the spot, says farewell to his family, shoulders his ax, and heads off to a logging camp where nobody will be on his case. We won’t see much of him again until the film’s conclusion.
The central story opens with a funeral, and we are given to understand that the deceased died of lung disease, contracted in the mines. The funeral is a sad affair; the dead man’s naked body is covered with a rented suit-front, the flowers are all fake, the undertaker takes back the rosary to be used again.
The undertaker is Antoine (Jean Duceppe) and his assistant is a robust man in his thirties named Fernand (Claude Jutra himself). They return after the ceremony to the general store that Antoine owns with his wife, Cecile (Olivette Thibault). Soon we meet Benoit (Jacques Gagnon), the orphaned fourteen-year-old who lives with them, and also the pretty young Carmen (Lyne Champagne), a clerk who boards with them.
This store will be the principal location for the movie, and it is a masterful re-creation from the period. Groceries are on the right as you enter, dry goods on the left, hardware upstairs, along with caskets for the undertaking business. The local people all know each other’s business and meet here to gossip. On Christmas Eve, there is a festive air. Benoit and Carmen are up early to decorate the window. Benoit’s Uncle Antoine is up later, disheveled, and repairs behind the windowpanes of the store office to pour himself a little drink.
Benoit regards him through the panes, silently. Benoit sees everything, is solemn and quiet, except with his pals or Carmen, when he is a playful boy. During this day, there will be great drama attending the unveiling of the nativity scene in the store window. Enormous excitement when Alexandrine, the accountant’s wife, goes upstairs with Cecile to try on a corset. Jollity as Antoine sells an old rummy a pair of pants twice too large for him. Celebration when a young woman shyly asks to see a bridal veil. Discovery when Benoit and Carmen wrestle upstairs, he grabs her breast through her dress, she stays perfectly still, and a wordless communication passes between them.
Outside on the main street, the sour-faced, hated mine owner trots in his carriage, tossing cheap Christmas stockings at the homes of his employees. Is it an accident they mostly land in the mud? The subtext of the film is that these mine workers are all treated as serfs and are working at a deadly trade. Jutra’s film was made at the height of Quebec separatism, and although it is never specific in its politics, of course they are unmistakable.
There are small human scenes. A little flirtation between Antoine and Cecile. Another little flirtation between Cecile and Fernand. Benoit’s infatuation with Carmen. Carmen’s sadness when her father appears to collect her wages and doesn’t even wish her a merry Christmas. The ferocity with which Antoine withholds $5 for Carmen herself: “That’s how it is!”
We have seen scenes at the rural home of the Poulin family and know that the eldest son is ill. The store’s telephone rings, and it is Madame Poulin (Hélène Loiselle), telephoning to say that her son has died. Can Antoine come to take the body? Now begins the great sequence of the film that carries all its meaning and pays off on all its implications. Benoit begs to be allowed to go along with his uncle on the carriage ride through a developing blizzard, and they head out to the Poulin home, Antoine drinking steadily. Not to fear: The horse knows the way.