LFF 2020: African Apocalypse
LFFStephen King once remarked that Joseph Conrad’s Heart Of Darkness was the longest short story he ever read. Anybody who ever picked up this thin novella will immediately know what he was referring to. While it is definitely short, reading it feels as laborious and daunting as the act of blazing the trail through a thick rain forest would. But although Heart of Darkness is extremely difficult to read, it remains undoubtedly one of the most important works of literature in history because of the subject matter it handles.
Director Rob Lemkin together with Femi Nylander, the co-writer and narrator of this story, use this eponymous work of literature and its – highly unusual at the time of its publication – veiled critique of imperialistic ambitions of colonial powers as a thematic springboard for an expedition of their own. They travel back in time to examine just how bone-chillingly rooted in reality Conrad’s prose really was. To that end, they anchor the bulk of this story around a historical figure of Paul Voulet, a French lieutenant who was tasked with leading an expedition deep into the heart of Africa, all the way to lake Chad – with a mission of uniting French colonies through brutal conquest. He never accomplished his task, though, because somewhere along the way – while mercilessly exterminating native tribes – he completely lost his mind. Even though Conrad was unlikely to have known about this expedition at the time and based the character of Kurtz in Heart Of Darkness on somebody else, the filmmakers immediately recognise that Paul Voulet was his real-life equivalent. This means that the horrors described by Conrad in his novella were clearly rooted in real life as well.
Thus, Nylander and Lemkin assume the perspective of Charles Marlow, the protagonist of Heart Of Darkness, and embark on their own expedition to Niger to learn more about Voulet and the way colonialist rule has shaped Africa. In what could only be seen as a stroke of filmmaking genius, they use Conrad’s novel as a structural anchor for their own story and occasionally imbue the experience with subtle visual nods to the most well-known adaptation of the book, Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. This gives their documentary a strikingly dreamlike tone which underscores the blood-curdling horror contained within and penetrates the viewer’s subconsciousness to haunt their dreams forever.
Everything Nylander, for whom this mission has a personal dimension due to his own African ancestry, learns more about Voulet, his diabolical deeds and how their legacy has morphed over the years into a society-shaping collective trauma shared by all Nigeriens, he passes onto the viewer immediately. Consequently, African Apocalypse cannot be seen as a by-the-numbers info dump destined to fester in the depths of the Netflix library. It is a personal journey that ever so slowly evolves to become a roar of righteous activism meant to shout from the rooftops about historical crimes the world has either forgotten or never cared to remember in the first place. As he travels deeper into the heart of darkness of post-colonial Africa, the narrator bombards the audience with shocking photographs of dismembered children, French and Belgian soldiers posing gleefully with heads of native Africans on spikes, as well as horrific verbal accounts detailing torture, rape, abuse and genocide.
Most importantly, however, the filmmakers don’t limit themselves to discussing historical crimes. Because they are there on the ground, making their way to lake Chad, they witness first-hand that Africa of today continues to be abused by vestiges of post-colonial imperialism. Continually drained of their ample natural resources, countries like Niger are still left to beg for handouts while the uranium they dig out of the ground at their own peril serves to power European homes. By illuminating these injustices, African Apocalypse might stand a fair chance of inciting a discussion The Old World ought to have had a long time ago.
Just like Conrad’s Heart Of Darkness, African Apocalypse is difficult to sit through. It’s languid, dense and the gruesome subject matter is anxiety-inducing. But – again, like Conrad’s book – it is indispensable. While it occasionally strays towards formal familiarity with vocal recreations and montages reminiscent of run-of-the-mill BBC productions, this film should be seen by everyone. Post-colonial empires like Britain, France and Belgium should critically re-evaluate their history, pay closer attention to statues they erect, and pay due respect to people whose ancestors they have continually abused. One can only hope that African Apocalypse will be counted among heralds of an impending reckoning with the past. It is an artistically elevated journey to uncover truths many might find difficult to chew and swallow as well as a testament to the depth and cultural richness of an entire continent colonialists trampled over with reckless abandon.
