'Bamako' feature

Geoff Andrew meets Abderrhmane Sissako, director of 'Bamako', one of Africa's leading filmmakers.

Feb 22 2007

The films of Abderrahmane Sissako – widely regarded as the most rewarding filmmaker now working in Africa – are unlike anyone else's. Lyrical, elliptical, witty, moving, subtly yet profoundly political, they're also firmly rooted in personal experience. 'Bamako' – an extraordinary movie that embraces courtroom drama, satire, domestic drama, Brechtian parable, the musical and western parody – has international bodies like the World Bank and the IMF being prosecuted by numerous Africans for neglect and exploitation; the setting, in the Malian capital, is the courtyard of Sissako's late father's house. 'It was important to make this film in the house I grew up in,' says the Mauritania-born auteur. 'I prefer my films to be quite intimate.'

Sissako doesn't make films 'about' himself; he's too modest for that. But like many great artists who use a specific milieu to reflect on matters of universal relevance, he does draw on first-hand knowledge. 'Waiting for Happiness' (2002) was set in Nouadhibou, much visited by Africans en route to Europe (the director divides his time between Africa and Paris); previously, the short 'October' concerned the relationship of a Moscow woman and an African student due to return home (Sissako studied film in Moscow, living in the USSR for 11 years), while the documentary 'Rostov-Luanda' had him visit Angola in search of an old friend who'd been a freedom fighter there. The strategy has its virtues: the films exude authenticity, respect for the people in them, and great individuality. No one else could have made them; they speak from the heart.

But doesn't that make them difficult to fund? How might one 'pitch' 'Bamako'? 'It helped that I'd made a similarly unusual film – 'Life on Earth' – for ARTE; when they invited me to make something for their series of millennial movies, I said I wanted to film in my village, but it was difficult to say more because the story concerned people using a phone in a post office; it was like a documentary, but with a story built around that element. That was a good experience, so when I said I wanted to make a film about a trial set in and around the courtyard of my father's house, people were curious. Still, you can only do a film like that if it doesn't cost much, otherwise it's too risky.

'It's hard making a political film on a theme familiar from the press; you must lead viewers into a story that isn't itself political and isn't about words, because cinema is firstly seen; it's heard only secondarily. And because Africa has no real cinematic tradition of genres, I felt I could try anything; it's not as if my crew was used to conventional filmmaking!'

Sissako cast professional lawyers for the trial scenes, explained the points he wanted them to make, and asked them to compose their speeches themselves: 'The 'witnesses' came along to relate their own experiences, and the lawyers would listen to them and construct their speeches in the light of what they'd heard. I simply told them to generalise more than in a real trial; after all, the finished film lasts two hours, not a week! Also, we had to include a story about the people living in the house where the trial's held. I needed something very clear and cinematic for that; it was important to show the effects the banks and politicians are having on a man, a woman and child – because that's the kind of relationship people in any society want to create.'

And then, let's not forget, there's the spoof western: an interlude during which a gang of cowboys (including Danny Glover and the Palestinian director Elia Suleiman) raid an African village. 'Truth to tell, I worried people wouldn't be interested in the story I was telling; the western is there to make viewers wonder where the film's taking them. I chose the genre partly because I used to love spaghetti westerns, partly because in five minutes it let me tell a metaphorical story of how Africa itself is also responsible for the situation it's in. Westerns are not just spectacle; they're simple and socially significant, and always about justice.'

There's the rub: among the gags, songs and impassioned speeches, what emerges is a tragic tale of ongoing global injustice, of an Africa crippled by debt and development programmes that serve the US and Europe. 'Bamako' doesn’t offer definitive answers to the questions raised by the trial – save, of course, that 'debt relief' hasn't met with much success.

'I don't think artists are able to propose answers; it's clear in the film I stand apart from the proposals made. But on a personal level I reflect on many of those issues, as they affect my life directly. The problem facing Africa is that its first encounters with Europe were violent, and later systems of development – I say this simply and without passion – found Europe looking, first through trade then through politics, to avail itself of Africa's resources at minimum expense. When Africa finally attained independence in the '60s, the colonisers left three kilometres of road behind in Mauritania; in the Congo there were five doctors for the whole country. It was about exploitation: the Europeans left behind administrators, but the model of administration was the same as that of the colonisers. Europe weakened Africa; had it left us stronger, we wouldn't have China invading Africa as now. China's promising a fast fix to a continent full of people with nothing. A saying describes the situation well: a man drowning will hold on to a passing crocodile.'

'The sad fact is that Europe always looks at crucial issues in the short term, be it ecology or Africa. Radical change is needed, a proper sharing of resources. Europe protects its interests – there's a lot of talk, but much of it is abstract. It's just not fair that a country with 80 per cent illiteracy gives up more than half of its national product to pay off a debt. When African states achieved independence, they hadn't the money to build roads, so they had to borrow it – on conditions that were neither politically nor economically fair; worse, they must now pay it back while being told to do this or that. Of course some leaders are corrupt – but who do we see working with them? No wonder the young want to emigrate to Europe; then they're kept out, sent home. Their predicament's desperate but numbers keep growing. How can anyone believe that situation is fair?'

'Bamako' opens tomorrow.

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