Dahomey

"Dahomey" is a film that transcends the documentary format, becoming an intimate and collective journey of healing and self-discovery. Under Mati Diop's sensitive yet powerful direction, it finds poetry in a subject steeped in historical pain: the restitution of 26 royal treasures from the Kingdom of Dahomey, looted during French colonialism. More than just a story about the return of artifacts, the film unfolds as a lyrical portrait of a culture that was deprived of its own reflection for centuries.

The narrative use of "26," the artifact that serves as the story's guide, is one of Diop's masterstrokes. Giving a statue its own voice-imbued with a subjective and almost spiritual perspective-turns the narrative into something profoundly human and, paradoxically, otherworldly. The statue's low, wise voice leads us through its journey of displacement, capture, and eventual reconnection. When we see the world through "26's" eyes-like in the scene where light fades as it's packed into a box-we feel the symbolic weight of being stripped of one's roots and confined to a foreign space.

Diop's cinematography is another standout feature. She skillfully balances the grandeur of Benin's landscapes with intimate shots of hands touching, holding, and carrying the artifacts. Every movement captures not just the object itself but the emotional and spiritual bond between the people of Benin and their cultural heritage. This visual duality creates a rhythm that feels almost meditative, giving the audience time to reflect on the depth of loss these artifacts represent-and the powerful act of their return.

Yet "Dahomey" doesn't stop at celebrating restitution as a triumphant event. The film honestly and thoughtfully explores the conversations sparked within the community as the artifacts are brought back. The joy of their return is intertwined with deeper questions: What exactly was lost? Can the void left by centuries of cultural colonialism ever be filled? While some voices express optimism about reclaiming these objects, others question the impact on a history that has been fractured and reshaped by foreign hands. Diop wisely observes these discussions without passing judgment, allowing the viewer to absorb the layers of meaning embedded in every exchange.

At just 68 minutes, the film might leave some viewers feeling like there's more to uncover. The conversations are so rich that a deeper dive would have been welcome. Still, this brevity is part of "Dahomey's" impact: it leaves you wanting to continue the dialogue, both internally and with others. The film doesn't offer easy answers or definitive solutions. Instead, it invites ongoing reflection on the intersection of history, identity, and justice.

"Dahomey" is a brilliant example of how cinema can serve as a tool for resistance and reconstruction. Diop doesn't just document a historic moment-she transforms it into a sensory and intellectual experience that reverberates far beyond the screen. The pain of colonialism is palpable, but so is the hope for a more just future, where stolen stories can be reclaimed and retold by those to whom they truly belong. This is a film that demands attention, reflection, and, above all, action. A work of art that reminds us the fight for historical justice is both a collective and deeply personal act.

The better part of the film is more concerned with being art (in which it succeeds) than with explaining and showing the art in question. Twenty-six works were returned to Benin, but we only see five in the film. The public debate in the second half of the film contributed a lot to understanding the environment into which the looted works were returned.

Not really all as good as people are making it out to be. Might be just me, but this really isn't the sort of film that I have a, sort of, deep interest in and as such I won't be able to be all that objective here. Point being, this is merely just run of the mill, typical, doesn't offer anything new to the table, which is what I was kind of hoping for judging by what others have been saying about Dahomey. Anyway, yeah, just don't really have anything else to say besides that it doesn't change anything about how I see anything. Which is fine but then also not fine at the same time, but oh well, maybe next time.

Saw this at IDFA 2024, the documentary film festival in Amsterdam. It reminded me of a recent visit to Rosenburg Castle in Copenhagen, where lots of ornaments and furniture was displayed, samples out of the collection of former Danish kings. As a not-so-frequent visitor of museums, this was my first confrontation with looted art. (I knew the term in a WW II context, but that is a totally different issue.) And it was by far not my last confrontation, as Denmark was no exception.

I am now perfectly aware that more countries acted similarly in their colonies. In hindsight I should have known better: names like Ivory Coast and Gold Coast are given for a reason to some parts of Africa. Since then, it stayed on my radar, knowing that the inhabitants at the time were not properly paid for those locally made handicraft, nor for mining materials coming out of their soil. Since then, I see contemporary movements to return those artifacts to the original countries, things I was less aware of before.

(Along the same line are parallel movements to offer excuses for past misdeeds around grabbing men and women from African countries, shipping them under harsh circumstances over the ocean, and letting them work under even so harsh conditions without proper pay. It seems a different matter, but it comes forth from a similar abuse of power over former colonies, accompanied by a condescending attitude against other races, and supported by the church, e.g. Pope Nicolaas V writing Dum Diversas in1452.)

It is easy to blindly applaud the return journey of 26 artefacts, going back from Paris to Benin (as the country is called nowadays). This is what we witness in the first half of the documentary. Rather than applauding France's generosity to facilitate this return journey, the 2nd half of this movie shows that it is by far not the last word. Firstly, there is the fact that merely 26 artefacts are just a small fraction of the thousands taken away in past centuries.

Secondly, there is much more to it, like their native languages and cultures that were "stolen" in the past, by actively suppressing all dialects and forcing everyone to speak French, the language of the ruling colonial country France. The current generation in Benin demonstrates this in open discussions on the matters at hand.

All in all, this movie is a welcome contribution to our social perception, at least to mine. It worked for me as an eye opener, broadening the scope of how we utilized our colonies, not only by taking away their natural riches but also by suppressing their local culture.

With over 7,000 pieces taken by the colonising French from their homes in the ancient African kingdom of Dahomey (now Benin), there is much celebration amongst the population at the return of 26 artefacts. These range from statues of their legendary Kings Ghezo and Béhanzin to objects of religious significance and items of such an intricate design that their condition will require perpetual care in a new, purpose-built, home near the Presidential Palace. Sadly, we just don't spend enough time with these beautifully crafted sculptures, nor do we really learn very much about the history of them, their historical provenance nor really anything much about the colonial "treaties" that facilitated their move in the first place. It lacks a narration. Not often that bothers me, but at times this whole thing reminded me of one of those films you'd watch for ten minutes if you were visiting a museum before you moved on. It's presented as if it were the introductory edition of a multi-part documentary that was going to explore more and fill in many of the gaps left unexplained in this hour long preview. Too much of it is spent following a group of young people in a forum arguing about the relative merits (or demerits) of this gesture from the French, and though it can be interesting at times to listen to the differing views in this "what's past is prologue" type debate, it wasn't what I wanted to see. I wanted much more about the fascinating mythology that attributed animal features to human beings in the way the Egyptians did two thousand years earlier. What was their significance? How were they to be conserved, preserved, exhibited - and, quite importantly, to whom. None of that was really gone into and I found that all a little disappointing. It may stimulate further reading but as it stands, it's not great.