DAHOMEY: A Poetic Reflection on Colonial Plunder and the Power of Repatriation
Dahomey: A poetic reckoning with colonial plunder, power of repatriation. Mati Diop’s ‘Dahomey’ is more than just a documentary; it’s a potent blend of history, fiction, and personal reflection, weaving a narrative around the 2021 return of 26 royal artifacts from the Kingdom of Dahomey to Benin after decades of residing in French museums.
By Megan Sauer
This 68-minute film, while shorter than her critically acclaimed “Atlantics,” holds immense thematic weight and aesthetic beauty, offering a profound meditation on reparations, cultural reclamation, and the enduring spirit of history.
Diop engages in a dialogue with Alain Resnais and Chris Marker’s 1953 film “Statues Also Die,” but her approach is distinct.
She transcends mere observation by infusing the artifacts with sentience, giving them voice through poetic narration in the Fon language.
Starting with King Ghezo’s imposing statue, these inanimate objects become protagonists, their silent journey transformed into a narrative of displacement and homecoming.
Through Ghezo’s voice, we experience the disorientation of being uprooted from his homeland for centuries.
His numbered designation sparks his indignation, reflecting the erasure of identity inflicted by colonialism. This imaginative technique allows Diop to explore the emotional impact of cultural plunder beyond statistics and historical accounts.
The film isn’t just about artifacts; it delves into the complex emotions surrounding their return. In Benin, celebrations mingle with skepticism.
While some see the repatriation as a historic act of justice, others remain outraged by the incomplete gesture, highlighting the vast number of artifacts still scattered across museums worldwide.
Diop eschews conventional interviews, opting for vibrant animated discussions featuring university students in Abomey-Calavi.
Their diverse perspectives resonate with the film’s central themes. Some express pride and connection to their ancestors’ artistry, while others grapple with the lingering effects of colonial education and marginalization of their own heritage.
These passionate exchanges offer a glimpse into the future generation inheriting the legacies of colonialism and repatriation. Their hopes and challenges underscore the ongoing struggle for cultural ownership and self-determination.
Diop’s masterful weaving of historical footage, fictional elements, and evocative imagery creates a tapestry that transcends factual documentation.
Gabriel Gonzalez’s editing seamlessly blends these diverse components, while Joséphine Drouin-Viallard’s cinematography captures the beauty and significance of the artifacts.
The film concludes with Ghezo’s words, vowing to walk again on the shores of the “wound” inflicted by colonialism. He declares, “26 does not exist. Within me resonates infinity.”
This powerful statement encapsulates the spirit of the film – a refusal to be confined by colonial definitions and a celebration of the enduring spirit of cultural identity.
While some might question the length of “Dahomey” after the success of “Atlantics,” it proves itself to be a captivating and nuanced exploration of a monumental moment in African history.
It challenges notions of ownership, sparks crucial conversations about reparations, and celebrates the power of reclaiming lost narratives.
Through its blend of artistic expression and historical reflection, “Dahomey” emerges as a testament to the enduring power of art to heal, empower, and illuminate the path towards a more just future.
