Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat

During my life on the European continent, in a wealthy country that has benefitted enormously through the ages by suppressing other cultures, the stories of peoples enduring this suppression have been supressed enough that a story of this magnitude can suddenly struck you into silence.

A breathtaking musical journey depicting the rise and fall of the first Premier of Congo, Mr. Patrice Lumumba, showing the atrocities that the powers that be had to commit to steer history into a different direction.

I would like to implore anyone who hasn't seen this, to view this at your own peril, because this powerful documentary can blow your mind.

What do jazz and a Coup d'Etat in Central Africa have in common? This documentary by Belgian filmmaker Johan Grimonprez uses a wide selection of historic footage to tell the story, spy thriller style. From American jazz greats such as Louis Armstrong and Nina Simone performing in Africa as good-will ambassadors, to on-the-ground scenes in the Congo as a Coup dÉtat brewed, powerful images fill the screen in rapid sequence. The narrative moves fast for 2 hours and 30 minutes, fusing music, sound, images and graphics to create a new kind of film. Although scenes were shot over half a century ago, the film feels fresh, urgent and contemporary.

This is not a "casual watching" kind of movie. I am glad I watched at home, because I had to stop and rewind a few times. At the end of the intense 150 minutes, one feels they experienced an immersion into a period of history through contemporary eyes, a rewarding dive. Brilliantly researched and edited, a Sundance Cinematic Innovation award recipient and Oscar nominee for Best Documentary, this film moves like jazz.

Whereas a documentary of this caliber on the direct-to-streaming aisle would incorporate your basic interviews and archival footage with little to no forethought, Soundtrack to a Coup d'État is a rallying cry within a musical odyssey. Hyperfast editing and a symphonic pace make this visual essay so special, resembling jazz's rigid but unforgettable structure. Vastly covering the Congo's struggle for independence (with jazz giants being the preface)- the inherent timeliness to today's genocidal crimes reflects a period not too astray from ours.

At times it may seem like the gargantuan presence of information overwhelms the viewer into submission, but rest assured the film continues its tapestry of bedazzlement all the way through. This is how historical documentaries should be made. Lessons will be learned, techniques will be seen. Enthralling from beginning to end, Soundtrack to a Coup d'État must not be missed. A charming, distinctive gateway for those yearning to learn more about deep-seated neocolonialism.

It's a documentary on the birth of the Republic of Congo and the assassination of its first prime minister, Patrice Lumumba. The approach incorporates much film footage from about 1950 to the early 1960s, juxtaposing the music and comments of leading jazz musicians of the era with contemporary news footage. Particular emphasis is placed on the various political machinations at the United Nations by Nikita Khrushchev, Dwight Eisenhower, Adlai Stevenson, and other world leaders, including Fidel Castro and Malcolm X.

At some levels, "Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat" is an intelligent and brilliant work with an incredible musical score. However, it takes too long to make the fundamental connection between the American jazz musicians and Patrice Lumumba. When it finally does, it's highly effective, but a half hour could easily have been edited from the final production.

This smart, sophisticated documentary traces the improbably rise to power and eventual CIA-led assassination of Patrice Lumumba, the first prime minister of the Democratic Republic of Congo, who was elected in May 1960, shortly before his country gained its independence from Belgium. Congo, a country rich with natural resources that were vital, among other things, to Western countries' weapons of war, had been colonized by Belgium since the late 19th century. This sad tale is the sadly predictable part of the story. Grimonprez puts these events in the context of the U. S. own black empowerment movement. Perhaps as sad as the political aspects, the way the US government uses and discards black artists is also sad. The film is patched together with the style and rhythm of bebop jazz artists interspersed throughout the documentary. The film is generally an entertaining and effective direction of colonialism. But it does have flaws. It's too long, apparently paired down from an even longer film. And while the film is right to include Khrushchev and Castro because they attracted both African leaders and African American's inligenciA. But the failure to put these figures without even hinting at their own hypocrisy undercuts the moral weight of the film. Yet the film is still well worth watching for its wide-ranging take on Western colonialism and innovative structure.