Dahomey

Even though this is a short film it seemed to me to contain a lot of filler. It gained some interest about halfway through with in the public forum segments. With such an interesting subject matter, I felt myself wanting to learn more about the artifacts, the process that got them back to Benin, how and why they were stolen. I found myself annoyed with so many lengthy shots of security cameras, hallways, airports, and moving equipment.

Listening to Beninese talk about the significance of gaining these pieces back and all of the relics still in France was the meatiest part of this film and the most engaging for me. Often, I feel that a unsubstantial film could be edited for improvement. In this case, I feel that a lot of substance could have been added.

"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.

Based on critiques, I was not sure whether I should dislocate to the next cinema to watch this film. One compelling reason: around 1960, the then called Dahomey was the focus of developmental aid by a Swiss supermarket cooperative, as depicted in that bi-weekly magazine. So by watching, I hoped to revive this past experience. Professional ratings are also quite good, and the short duration of only 1h+ would make a bad surprise bearable. It is anyway a weakness of contemporary film-makers to try to give 'substance' by making films of 2hours or more.

Contrary to some critiques here, the final scene with the discussions by the students was everything else than boring. The question is: what is the truth behind their assertions 'Only some dozens have been brought back, but there were thousands robbed'? I assume, the majour works have been returned.

The visuallly talented french-senegalese director Mati Diop tries to do a documentary on Benin, history, art, cultural.heritage and colonialism. Right off the start there is a contradiction: an outsider doing a film about people in Benin wanting their own voice. Perhaps this explains the lack of inspiration and the disjointed presentation.

There are three parts: -30 minutes of every dull detail of a statue being packed, put in a crate, and sent to airports, as narrated by the confused 'voice' of the statue and/or the entity it represents.

-A very quick montage of celebration followed by 25 plaibly shot minutes of a an animated debate among... some group of people... in Benin about their receiving the statues and its impact on cultural heritage and identity.

-A few minutes of random night time shots of urban Benin, similar to the visuals of "Atlantics".

The end.

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.