Dahomey
Mati Diop’s second feature proves to be a work of art itself as it studies the restitution of treasure seized in colonial times.
When the actress Mati Diop turned director and made the feature film Atlantics in 2019 it met with great acclaim although I myself had definite doubts about the way in which she tried to blend realism with surreal touches. But with her second feature, Dahomey, another prize winner, I am completely converted believing that this time a comparable fusion of styles has yielded a brilliantly original work.
The subject matter of Dahomey is such that one would expect it to be treated in a documentary conceived in an altogether traditional way. Diop’s concern here is the hot issue of the restitution of art works that have ended up in museums in countries that acquired them in the days of colonial power. The particular example on which she chooses to focus concerns statues and other works removed from Benin in 1892 at a time when it was known as the kingdom of Dahomey. Late in 2021 negotiations resulted in twenty-six items being sent back from Paris and Diop’s film follows that process starting with the packing of these items, tracing their journey and arrival, recording how they were set up for exhibition and then incorporating a substantial discussion covering all aspects and many different opinions. That only this small number out of some seven thousand seized were being returned is part of the issue.
For her film Diop puts special emphasis on the statue of King Ghézo who ruled from 1818 to 1858 but also incorporates shots of two other works sent back representing his successors Glele and Béhanzin and some related pieces. What we see of the actual transportation is realistically shot (the colour photography by Joséphine Drouin Viallard is first class) and it makes its impact visually – any passing comments by workmen involved are so insignificant that they are not even rendered in subtitles. But intercut with this (and heard in the native language of Fons duly subtitled) are comments expressing the thoughts that could be passing through the mind of King Ghézo on his return concerned that he may no longer recognise his country and wondering what the people will now make of him. As it happens, the actual statue, first seen before it is packed up, is an artwork that has the quality of seeming amazingly alive, a presence. Even so to opt to treat the figure as a narrator, a king aware of having been buried in an alien place for well over a century, is astonishingly audacious and could hardly be more risky. But, done with Diop’s artistic imagination functioning at full strength, what might have felt ludicrous works magnificently albeit that any viewers approaching the film unaware of this concept may take a few minutes to adjust to what they are seeing and hearing.
Once Diop’s concept is understood various factors come into play ensuring that the film coheres. Paradoxically, we are helped to think of King Ghézo as a living entity through the contribution of the sound designers who treat the words spoken by Makenzy Orcel in a manner that makes the sound suggest somebody entombed, an effect further enhanced by the screen being black and free of images for most of the time that Ghézo’s thoughts are heard. The editing is indeed used in a manner that places us in the box with the king. Equally significant in its contribution to the film’s unique atmosphere is the magnificent music score by Dean Blunt and Wally Badarou. Furthermore, when it comes to making us think of King Ghézo as a living symbol certain details link the naturalistic element in the film to its surrealist side. In their treatment of Ghézo’s statue the workmen handling it show respect for the artefact, but when observing this the audience expands it into a sense of respect for the person. As one critic put it, one feels that it is inappropriate that when packaged up for transit the king should be placed faced down. Indeed, one shares the dismay expressed by Ghézo himself when he contemplates the fact that he has been reduced to being listed as ‘No. 26’.
Dahomey is a fanciful notion, a conceit, that succeeds by making viewers respond imaginatively to Mati Diop’s own imaginative approach. Wisely – for the idea might have outstayed its welcome – the film is limited to a length of 68 minutes. Furthermore, within that time span it incorporates in its second half a discussion of the repatriation in which students from the university of Abomey-Calavi express a diverse range of views regarding the value, motivation and meaning of what has just happened. If Diop’s unusual approach to the subject has given it an identifiable depth of impact for each viewer, this talk then throws it open to each one of us to consider and ponder the often-conflicting ideas expressed.
That is not, however, quite the end of the film and, if I have any reservations at all about Dahomey, it lies in the decision to add a final sequence akin to a peroration about the lasting significance of the historical culture represented by King Ghézo and his statue. This feels a bit forced and less effective than having a more open ending in addition to which the film has already made us recognise cultural heritage as a living force (the statues seen in Benin take on fresh relevance due to being viewed in the place that gave birth to them). But the extent of Mati Diop’s achievement is best recognised by the fact that, in creating a work of art that contains so much over and above anything that a standard documentary on this issue could have expressed, she has given us a work that does things which could be done in no medium but that of cinema.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Featuring the voice of Makenzy Orcel, students of the university of Abomey-Calavi and curators and exhibition managers.
Dir Mati Diop, Pro Eve Robin, Judith Lou Lévy and Mati Diop, Screenplay Mati Diop, Ph Joséphine Drouin Viallard, Ed Gabriel Gonzalez, Music Dean Blunt and Wally Badarou.
Les Films du Bal/Fanta Sy/Arte France Cinéma/Les Films du Losange-Mubi.
68 mins. France/Senegal/Benin/UK. 2024. UK and US Rel: 25 October 2024. Cert. PG.