Tag: anthology

Juju Stories

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Three shorts from Nigeria, all based on the concepts of magic and madness. Told in Pidgin English, it’s a bold collection of films examining the ways man can be deceived and the difficulties of establishing personal relationships. Funny, sometimes profound and differing wildly in quality and tone, it acts as a neat West African counterpart to Ryūsuke Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (2021), leaning heavy on the mystical parts of everyday life. Spanning from the snooty upper-classes to the hustlers of Lagos to college students and businesspeople, it also provides a solid panorama of Nigerian identity.

It’s worth going through each one individually, as they’re all headed by different directors, starting with Michael Omonua’s Love Potion. With a direct Murakami reference (missing cat) and a callout to Norwegian Wood, Love Potion feels like it could’ve easily been told on the streets of Tokyo. A whimsical, day-dreaming advertisement executive dreams of a life with a man she met at a party; deciding to create a special potion that will have him falling in love with her. Omonua shoots in a mostly realist style, allowing the plain-spoken dialogue to do the heavy lifting. Once under the spell, the man asks: “Am I in love or am I crazy?” His friend tells him there’s no difference. Easily my favourite of the three and a great follow up to Omonua’s equally good short Rehearsal, which played Berlinale this year.

The second offering is entitled Yam, and directed by Abba Makama. Yams are said to have all kinds of magical properties. The Jamaicans even claim that it is the reason they run so fast. At first, this eponymous tale appears not to deal with the vegetable at all, following a small-time crook as he finds schemes here and there all over the streets. But when his life intersects with that of a tire repairman, the yam rears its mystical head. While a bit muddled in terms of composition, with a couple of uninteresting repetitions in its non-linear retelling, and a quite random use of focus pulling, Yam is saved by some neat long-takes and the high energy of its cast.

The final and final offering was directed by C.J. ‘Fiery’ Obasi. Suffer the Witch best encapsulates the good and bad sides of the anthology as a whole. While the narrative devices, musical cues and point-of-views are often quite well-handled, the short stories seem to meander and obfuscate when they should be snappy and to-the-point. This one tells the tale of a young college student who starts to suspect that her best friend might actually be a witch. Foregoing the potion motif in the first two films, Suffer the Witch explores the nature of taboos, the relationships between the sexes, the rivalry of female friendships and the inability to confront the truth. Feeling like the longest film of the three, it’s aided by solid needle drops and some great moments, but can’t manage to properly take off by the end

Juju Stories played in Concorso internazionale at Locarno Film Festival. It premieres in the UK in October as part of the BFI London Film Festival.

The Uncertain Kingdom

Posted on by victorfraga

This release marks a high point in the British film industry. Coming at a time of great confinement, The Uncertain Kingdom shows a gorgeous collation of stories interweaving as one collective voice. If this is the post-Covid future that awaits us, it’s one that we’ll humbly accept with great appreciation. More than that, it’s the essence of what made cinema so dazzlingly exciting for audiences 100 years ago.

Just as the pandemic has exposed Britain to some uncomfortable home truths, so too does this series explore a Britain more forceful than boastful. There’s Motherland, a startling look at a Jamaica exploited by Her Majesty’s country. There’s Camelot, a Welsh adaptation of the Arthurian tale in a style more regional than regal. And then there’s Acre Fall Between, detailing a Northern Ireland that still remains a pointless component of the British Empire. Each has a different director steering their vision of the UK to the viewers.

It is comparable to 2006’s Paris, Je T’aime (also by various directors), but this has more artistic vitality. While the French compendium attracted stalwarts Joel Coen and Alfonso Cuarón to its board, The Uncertain Kingdom is a purer look at a country fading into its own abyss. Each vignette works to its own singular vision, piecing a tapestry that folds into one devastatingly complete picture. It’s the sound of a million voices projected on the moving screen.

Lively and controversial, the film enters into conflicted terrains with devastating effect. Ernie, an exhilarating intellectual escapade, warns viewers about the dangers of everyday right wing politics. Strong Is Better Than Angry, a tribute to the indomitable female spirit, boasts a dazzling boxing montage, each punch mightier than the previous one. British People, meanwhile, explores the disputes a British Chinese family have as they discuss their minority status in the eyes of the Tories. The films create this sense of weight and depth in the way they present themselves, capturing a Britain that aims for vitality at a time when it has little of it.

Released over two volumes, the four-hour set wholeheartedly supports those disenfranchised by the Kingdom’s tactics. Jason Wingard’s Pavement revels in this paradigm, supporting the misadventures of a homeless man mocked by the wealthy workers who walk into their bank. It’s one of two cosmic horror entries, the other being the probing Death Meets Isolette. Death enters into both entries, channelling a world more respectful that the one we and our characters share.

It’s consistently brilliant from one short to the next. More than that, it wholeheartedly revels as the very thing the Marvel Cinematic Universe wishes it could be: it’s magical.

The Uncertain Kingdom is out on VoD on Monday, June 1st.