Director: Mati Diop
Writer: Mati Diop
Synopsis: The journey of 26 plundered royal treasures from the Kingdom of Dahomey exhibited in Paris, now being returned to Benin, a French-speaking West African nation.
If a short and imaginative documentary about 26 stolen treasures making their way home after 130 years in captivity isn’t quite what you expected Mati Diop’s next film to be after her 2019 directorial debut, Atlantics, join the club. Yet it should hardly come as a surprise that Dahomey, the name of that very follow-up, is just as transfixing and haunting as her previous film. Both are meditative; both are beautiful, strange, and beautifully-strange; and, in a way, both could be called ghost stories. That distinction certainly applies to Atlantics – its plot hinges on men who were lost at sea coming back to haunt their home island by possessing the bodies of the girlfriends they left behind – but there’s a different sort of spiritual nature to Dahomey. Diop, in just two features, has cemented herself as a remarkably cerebral auteur who sees beyond the outer layers of her subjects; her knack for infusing them with souls, regardless of them being living, breathing objects or not, is wholly singular.
So, too, is the way she goes about doing so: In Dahomey, which gets its name from the kingdom that is now known as Benin, a number of the aforementioned looted artifacts are given voices. The first piece we hear from is known as “26,” the statue of a Dahomey king made up of wood and metal and possessing a deep, distorted, and demonic voice that mimics what I imagine a cave would sound like if it could speak. As “26” and their fellow artifacts share memories of their travels and the tribulations they faced along the way, they describe treatment that can only be described as that of a negative immigrant experience. We hear things like, “Why don’t they call me by my real name? Don’t they know it?” and “Is this the end of the journey? Everything is so strange. Far-removed from the country of my dreams.” The dialogue, co-written by Diop and the Haitian author Makenzy Orcel, and the voices, performed by Lucrece Hougebelo, Parfait Viayinon and Didier Sedoha Nassegande, pair nicely, perfectly embodying the gravely-wisdom that would come with a life that has spanned well over a century.
That’s what makes up the first chunk of the film, the process of retrieving the artifacts, carefully boxing them in wooden crates, and placing them aboard an aircraft carrier that will safely guide them home. At one point, Diop and Dahomey cinematographer Joséphine Drouin-Viallard place a camera inside 26’s container; the screen goes black as the box is nailed shut, and we’re left with the statue’s ruminating thoughts on its past, present, and future. The next thing we see is the unboxing upon arrival in Benin, where Diop and Drouin-Viallard follow archaeologists as they assess each piece’s condition (physical appearance) and description (what it is, and what it means). Many have suffered a fair amount of wear and tear over the course of 100-plus years, especially considering the fact that they were stolen in the first place. The artifacts are then put on display for a group of Beninese dignitaries and their invited guests, and later, for the public to view. Parades break out in the streets. The statues, vases, thrones, and memorials, meanwhile, have traveled from one display case to another; at least in these ones, they are home.
From there, the pace picks up, as the film’s conclusion is almost entirely dedicated to a lively debate between students at the University of Abomey-Calavi, all of whom are remarkably passionate on the subject of the artwork’s return, primarily that only 26 of over 7,000 looted pieces have actually been returned. Issues of colonialism and heritage, among others, are discussed at length. Given how natural this section feels as it unfolds, it was a surprise to learn that Diop engineered the debate herself, casting students at the university like she would a fiction film, and creating their discussion for the purpose of her film.
After Dahomey’s first screening at the New York Film Festival, Diop noted that she knew she wanted the film to involve both the perspective of the artifacts and students early on in the filmmaking process, and after hearing a radio broadcast from the campus’ own station, orchestrating the event herself seemed to be the best (and most efficient) course of action. That the students’ opinions appear to be entirely their own and not scripted nor influenced by Diop’s direction helps to soften the blow, but that the inception of the debate’s lack of authenticity did set off a few alarm bells for this critic. Diop further mentioned that the debate went on for three hours, and that she even organized a second debate in order to mine more footage, given how profound the first discussion was. With that in mind, it’s hard not to wonder what was left on the cutting room floor. And, is it somewhat ironic that, in a film about a culture being returned what was stolen from it, Diop chose what bites to take from these dialogues depending on what worked best for her project?
Then again, there’s an element of surrealism hanging over the entire picture – what with the talking statues and all – and it doesn’t exist as a dark cloud. It’s much closer to that of a rainbow, with the pot of gold at its end being the objects returning to their rightful birthplace. Indeed, it would be fair to call the journey that these artifacts take back home a “return,” especially considering how Diop views the pieces as cognizant, soul-baring vessels. But there’s something to be said for viewing this voyage as an act of reclamation, that Benin took back what was theirs. Of course, it was President Emmanuel Macron and the French parliament who spearheaded the return of the items to Benin, with Macron noting that “African heritage can’t just be in European private collections and museums” back in 2017, when he told a crowd of students in the African country of Burkina Faso that the return of their nation’s artifacts was a “top priority.” Is it worth noting that he didn’t commit to whether the restitution would be temporary or permanent? Perhaps, but Diop’s film is a resounding enough argument that each piece belongs at home. 26 may not be 7,000, but it’s a step in the right direction.
Dahomey opens in theaters in New York on October 25th and Los Angeles on November 1, with an expansion to follow.
