“Dahomey” review: African art returns home, colonialism stings

A long-silent voice from a distant past – strange and reverberant – awakens in the antiseptic, air-conditioned rooms of a Parisian museum. The forum through which this entity communicates with us is Mati Diop“Dahomey.” The French-Senegalese filmmaker returns with a rich and gripping exploration of the specter of colonialism that continues the captivating and otherworldly quality of her groundbreaking 2019 film, “Atlantics”.

“Dahomey,” a formally inventive documentary, traces the journey across continents of 26 works of art looted from the West African kingdom of Dahomey which, in 2021, were returned to the modern nation of Benin (also the birthplace of Vodou ). This repatriated collection represents only a tiny fraction of the 7,000 pieces looted by the French from their former colony – and that figure only applies to what they took from this location among many others.

The voice emanates from the artifact titled “26”, a statue of King Ghézo of Dahomey. In a stacked sound of multiple voices speaking at the same time, the statue expresses its grievances in its native Fon language (also known as Dahomean). Poetic reflections on imprisonment in a foreign land and longing for a home that may no longer exist are supported by Wally Badarou and Dean Blunt’s haunting synthesizer score. Their alluring compositions sonically resemble the wonder of discovery with a hint of apprehension about the unknown.

Other artifacts include a sculpture of the heroic King Béhanzin (who one young man said should have had his own animated film for Beninese children), another of King Glele and a arsenic Or to vomitan ornate object created to commemorate the dead.

In just 68 minutes, “Dahomey” is packed with insights into what the return of these ancient treasures symbolizes and the risky political implications surrounding it. For the Beninese government, it is a victory that it can peddle to win the favor of the people, while France can exploit it as a tactic to enhance its image which is accompanied by tacit paternalism. The insulting number of pieces that the French are prepared to drop implies that they are testing whether Benin can ensure their security. Even this process takes place on the terms of the colonizer.

The case of Benin is far from unique. The feathered headdress once worn by Aztec Emperor Moctezuma II resides in Vienna. Mexico demanded its return, but the Austrian government refused, citing possible damage the piece might suffer during transport.

Back home, in the town of Abomey, an expert assesses the condition of the objects and their significance. One of them, a finely carved throne, expresses the Dahomey Kingdom’s expansionist practice of enslaving captured enemies. To illustrate the unpretentious brilliance with which Diop and editor Gabriel Gonzalez assemble the sights and sounds of “Dahomey,” they move from this depiction of ancient servitude to the young construction workers who laboriously prepare the local museum for the visit diplomats.

Will these men be able to enjoy the exhibition or are they being denied a culturally enriching experience due to their lack of financial means? And if it’s the latter, then who is it for? Diop perceptively exploits the meaning of images: in the film’s opening moments, we see colorful replicas of the Eiffel Tower being sold informally near the banks of the Seine, presumably by immigrants (African and others) earning their living in the French capital. These modern effigies of mass production and overconsumption carry their own history, acquired both from the seller in need and the tourist who buys them.

“Dahomey” is at its confrontational climax when Diop includes footage of a roundtable discussion in which students discuss the issues at hand. Some say that by seizing this material, the French plundered something intangible: the chance of the Beninese people to see themselves in a broader historical context and not just through the eyes of white executioners. Others argue that the restitution should not be viewed with blind nationalism but with skepticism, because after the official opening of the exhibition, little will have changed for ordinary individuals struggling to survive.

These heated exchanges even call into question the very idea of ​​museums as Western institutions imposed as the only avenue for preservation and meaningful engagement with the past. The philosophical concepts used to address these topics were implicitly determined by the colonizer through the exaltation of some thinkers and the obfuscation of others. Even the language they use to denounce them, French, is a foreign language and not endemic to Dahomey.

But if these art objects bear the weight of centuries of defeats and conquests, they cannot alone generate a cultural identity. These are just precious memories. It is the living peoples of the earth and their self-determination who express a history in perpetual transition, waiting to be written, conceived, spoken and lived here and now.