Black Girl

On the injustices one culture can do to another. The film is about an African woman who gets a job with a white family and agrees to follow them back to France, only to be disenheartened in the end. While, the production values were not great, the messages of this film are stronger than most major US motion pictures. The characters (especially the French) do seem to be a bit shallow, and don't have much depth to them. Yet, the theme of loneliness from displacement and cultural injustice ring powerfully loud in the end. An 8 out of 10.

The print I saw was a bit erratic and grainy, and included one jumpy sequence in color, whereas the rest was in black and white. This is the deceptively simple story of a woman from Senegal who joins a French family in France to be their nanny touches on many cultural, colonial, racial, and emotional issues, and if you look for easy answers, or answers at all, you'll be disappointed. There's a bit of French New Wave to the film, though it's really mostly African, featuring Senegalese music on the soundtrack. The only real flaw I see is that the story is told rather sketchily, with little in the way of clues as to the timing. Do the events take place over the course of a few days or weeks? The ending comes up so quickly that it feels a little forced, though not entirely unexpected.

"La Noire de..."--better translated as "The Black Girl/Woman de...," retaining the French preposition with its ambiguous connotations, either meaning "of" or "from" or "belonging to"--is credited as the first sub-Saharan African feature film to receive international acclaim. Its author, Sembène Ousmane is likewise considered the "father of African cinema." Indeed, Senegal had only recently declared independence from French colonial rule in 1960, and, reportedly, before that Africans in French colonies were prohibited from making their own movies. One assumes this ban existed because the authorities feared such a thoroughly anti-colonialist picture being presented as in "Black Girl" and even more so that it be artfully composed. For, despite clocking in at under an hour (although originally a bit longer), Ousmane's film tenders a taut thesis, subtly adorned in art and while still managing a shamefully shocking end and strikingly symbolic epilogue.

If this were simply postcolonial social commentary, as admirable as that message may be, it would be easy to write off "Black Girl," which is what the French Film Bureau did in rejecting to produce it (although, they later purchased the rights to (or not to) distribute it). It's the crafting of the message that makes this a great film, though. I especially love the use of the mask here--a piece of African art much like the film itself that serves as a source of contention for its control, within and without the film. At first, while in Dakar, Diouana, the protagonist, offers the mask as a gift to her employers, for which they place it beside other pieces of African art decorating their villa. Back in their high-rise apartment in France, however, the mask hangs alone on the white family's wall, with the only apparent other they take back with them from Senegal to France being Diouana. When the boy who originally possessed the mask regains it, he shadows one of Diouana's employers, the man, as if haunting him with the history of colonialism while simultaneously deporting him from a newly free nation.

The precision of the black-and-white cinematography is worth remarking upon here, too. With a minimalist aesthetic reflecting its low budget and the influence of the French New Wave, it may be easy to miss how well the photography reinforces the social commentary. Jonathan Rosenbaum (see his book, "Movies as Politics"), for one, reiterates what another film critic, Lieve Spass, says regarding the black-and-white dichotomy of the picture in everything from the dots on Diouana's dress, the food they consume (white rice and milk, black coffee and "Black and White" whisky), to, most dramatically, Diouana in the white bathtub. There's also the dark mask on the apartment's white wall, the black void Diouana stares out at from that apartment, in addition to the obvious pigmentation. When the white French woman looks over a crowd of black women waiting for work as maids, the visual connotation to a slave market isn't lost. Nor is it when Diouana is mistreated by those she serves in France: the shrewish madame treating her as inferior, the mostly indifferent monsieur, kissed by a stranger who doesn't bother with a request or introduction after remarking that he's never kissed a black woman before, overhearing another guest suppose that Diouana instinctually, "like an animal," understands commands in the French language (one may be forgiven for thinking it was the two centuries of French colonial rule that explains the people of Senegal knowing French--heck, the Normans only controlled England for half a century a millennium ago, and there remain thousands of French cognates in the English language to this day, but I digress).

It rather goes without saying that this is an economical picture, although, again reportedly, originally the film included a color sequence. In addition to the photography, however, there's the sparsity of story and dialogue, which I admire, notwithstanding that some Westerners seem to be put off by it. Regardless, relying on Diouana's internal narration is effective in focusing the narrative and getting the point across--that the dream and promises that led her to France becomes alienated from her confined reality, which she compares to being treated like a prisoner and slave, as others cast her as a racial, supposedly inferior "other." Her illiteracy along with her general muteness compounds her alienation, as wrenchingly detailed in the scene involving a letter supposedly from her mother. The general English translation of the title is rather suiting in this regard, to simply label her and the film as the "Black Girl," to not even question from whence she belongs--her identity simply stated and assumed, as her employers and the colonizers would have it. The film returns her voice, if only for the spectator, and likewise the identity of postcolonial Africa.

Not exactly a cheery story and a pretty simple one as well, but the important thing is the perspective, which is that of a Senegalese maid (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) working for a white couple in France, as told by a Senegalese director (Ousmane Sembène). By using simple narration to reveal the maid's thoughts, he ensures that viewers will see her as a person, not as a dumb servant or as an object of pity, as differing extremes might. It seems so incredibly basic and obvious, but it's this recognition of humanity that's powerful, and unfortunately still such a relevant message today. Despite the obvious ways a story like this might go, Sembène is restrained in what he shows us, and a part of the film's strength is that there are moments when we can easily imagine worse with such a gap in power and wealth.

Over her new boyfriend's concerns, the young lady comes to France after having worked for the couple in Dakar. He's a little too grabby with his hands in one scene, but as he stands in front of a Patrice Lumumba 'Uhuru' poster in another, is correct in warning her that she may be treated like a slave in France. When she gets there she soon finds herself bored with being confined to mundane tasks in a small home, disappointed for having been deceived about what she would be doing there, lonely because of her isolation, and weary of being so openly spoken down to and angrily ordered around. In other words her reaction is what any intelligent person's reaction would be, but her employers don't see it that way. They think she's just lazy, and attribute her quietness with ignorance, casually likening her to an animal. When they entertain their friends, another way they take away her humanity is by speaking about her as if she's not there, and by critically sizing her up as some kind of exotic thing.

I loved the scenes in Senegal, and wished there had been more. I also liked the aspects of quiet dignity in poverty, and the brilliant ending scene. It is so pitch perfect that the initial response of white guilt is to turn to money, instead of empathizing or trying to understand. It might have been better fleshed out, but it's a very good movie as it is.

Senegalese auteur Ousmane Sembene's feature debut, engraved in the film history as the first Sub-Saharan African feature film made by an African filmmaker. But the "very first"tag doesn't necessarily guarantee a masterpiece for its own sake, BLACK GIRL, recently restored to its original transfer with vintage graininess and monochrome sheen, running approximately 60 minutes, has been rammed down audience's throat more like an ardent manifesto than an artistic adventure.

Diouana (Diop) is a young Senegalese girl, has been working for a French couple as their child- minder in Dakar, when the couple is transferred to Antibes, they intend to continue hiring her, offers her a one-way ticket to Antibes living with them. Thrilled by the opportunity to come to France, Diouana arrives with high hopes, like any girl in her age, pining for a new life in a developed country, breathing the fresh air of the Western civilization and seeing a world beyond her imagination, only all turns out to be a dashed dream.

Upon arrival, Diouana surprisingly finds out that the couple's kids are not there, instead, she is requested to work as a maid, cooking, cleaning and all other trappings. As days go by, we are guided by Diouana's inner voice, she becomes increasingly disillusioned with misgivings, questions and reminiscences of her life in Dakar, eventually she realizes that she has been cheated and exploited, living like a prisoner in the apartment, France to her merely means her tiny bedroom and the kitchen, what is worse that she is illiterate, therefore she cannot even express her true feelings in letters to her mother in Dakar. What can she do enmeshed in such dire circumstances? Diouana plumps for the most radical way to lay bare her protest, ire and accusation against the stuck-up madame (Jelinek, a force of unapologetic monstrosity) and the aloof monsieur (a grotesquely- looking Fontaine), it is as searing as startling, she has other alternatives, but in Sembene's ideology, perhaps, this is the best tack to provoke a rude awakening.

Ultimately the film serves as Sembene's fervent anti-colonialism diatribe, a symbolic indigenous wooden mask relentlessly haunts the guilty party, where the poverty-stricken country holds its dignity in a defiant way, BLACK GIRL, also benefits from its unruffled frame compositions, marks the dawn of African cinema which finally finds its voice to speak volumes about the cinema- eschewing continent's own story, history and ethos, for that particular reason, Sembene's debut can promisingly function as a stepping stone and find its niche in a hallowed recess.