On Becoming a Guinea Fowl

Let me first just say the female roles were impeccable, full of the kind of acting that transports the veiwer. The story despite its violent & disturbing undertone was written & directed with taste. Clearly there was a deep emotional disposition of the creators & theatrical cast. Unfortunately the decision to leave the final chapter of the episode to the users imagination comes off as cowardice.. You make a movie with intriguing turns that lead to introspective meditation, you make a difference by setting an example with a production that ultimately presents resolutions. That's how trends in cultural & film are set that can actually change our world. Film, like music has the power to invoke lasting changes in our society that can transform the voice of society. I wish i could say the choice to choke the final wind from the sails of this narrative was an artistic one, but i came away feeling like it was made for many of the same reasons people stay silent about these very issues.. Fear of upsetting the crowd..

Protagonist Shula is driving home one day, when she finds the body of a dead relative in the middle of the road.

This event triggers the appearance of her *vast* extended family, all of which are fairly horrendous people, from the ignorant to the bigot to the superstitious, and Shula has to grin and bear it because they are family.

.. i mean .. it's competently made. It's reasonably well shot and it's definitively well acted. But this film (the majority of which is in, i think Nyanja, or some other Zambian dialect) is so culturally distant from me, that i simply cannot enjoy it. There is no way that i can ever project myself onto the protagonist, to understand what she feels, to share in her decisions. I felt more at easy with 1950s films from japan, in comparison to how i feel with this film.

It's not for me. And it's probably not for you either.

Anyone with a Western mindset who claims to have no trouble discussing On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is lying. Watching this, I was reminded of Haile Gerima's words about the need for more local, identity-driven voices to portray Africa and its singularities. Once again, Rungano Nyoni does an excellent job in this regard.

It would be easy to be politically correct and say that patriarchy, gender relations, divisions, and victim-blaming exist in our societies too, manifesting in different forms. That's correct. Still, I can't help feeling that relativising this also relativises and minimises the unique pains of societies forced to navigate extra layers of traditions, rituals, and customs. These pains are even unique to people who moved away from those cultures, still missing the comfort of familial warmth and being understood, while living in a different world that, while undeniably more balanced in role distribution, remains cold to them. My background and life involve regular contact with other communities, rituals, and cultures, familiarising me with cultural aspects most Westerners aren't. Yet I'd still be incapable of writing something like this, as I'm far from carrying the weight of such identity and centuries of history. This is why it's perfectly natural to feel uncomfortable while watching this. We have many thoughts, we judge, we relativise, and it's almost impossible to put all of that into words.

The story is as powerful, disturbing and necessary as Nyoni's previous film, but the technical maturity on screen is evident, all while keeping her identity intact, rooting the film firmly in the context and society it portrays. And is this Susan Chardy's debut? Wow, impressive!

PS: That simple yet tense, and mysterious score is excellent. It reminded me of Edward Berger's recent films.

A beautiful film on a harsh topic. Nyoni presents a powerful reflection on the struggles of trying to change a world set travelling in ruts carved over centuries.

Perhaps some scenes fail to match the high standard Nyoni sets elsewhere in the film, but these do not detract from the overall force of the film.

Strong acting is presented through a tasteful and humorous use of both camera and colour. The technical direction takes what would be a solid performance by the cast and makes it even greater.

Nyoni portrays beautifully how to live in the face of grief and deep injustice. To survive together we need a will to live, and this can only come from shared joy. With no laughter we can only crawl.

"Shula" (Susan Chardy) is returning from a fancy dress party late one evening when she encounters a corpse on the road. A quick investigation reveals the body as that of her "Uncle Fred". She doesn't appear terribly upset at the news and neither does her partying father when she calls to tell him! Her evening doesn't get any better with the arrival of her drunken cousin "Nsansa" (Elizabeth Chisela) and when the police tell her they don't have enough vehicles to come and deal with it til the morning, she has to sleep in her car. What follows now sees us immersed in some of the rituals and traditions of a Zambian funeral, with grief - real and not so real - presented in a semi-comedic mix of ancient and modern behaviour. What also become clear is that "Shula" has a reason for her indifference and that this family, indeed their whole village, has unsavoury secrets to keep. What was curious for me, given the nature of the man's behaviour, was the extent to which the men were largely oblivious and the women almost entirely defensive of his true nature. Not of his behaviour in life, but of his reputation thereafter. He was clearly no great loss, yet his sisters grieve profoundly and lay the blame for his death squarely at his much younger wife who obviously hadn't looked after him properly. What's this to to with a guinea fowl, you might ask? Well it appears that they frequently serve as an early warning system for wildlife when predators approach, and so the allegory with the characterisation of "Shula" is clear to see as the story shines a light on established patterns of behaviour that still consider women as chattels. Aside from some engaging light-relief from the almost permanently sozzled "Nsansa", there isn't really enough development of the personas here and there's also not so much dialogue, per se. Just a great deal of plausible family chatter, angst and wailing amongst a community that treats death respectfully as the photography gets it's sleeves rolled up and takes us quite effectively into this bereft commune where there are spoils to be had, too. A lot of this is left to our own imagination and judgement, which is fine but a little lazy on the part of the writers who maybe hadn't quite the courage of their convictions when it came to delivering a more directly potent thrust, but it's still well worth a watch.