INTERVIEW WITH DIRECTOR ZEZE GAMBOA

by Olivier Barlet, May 2004

Published in Africultures, July 19, 2004

Translation by Michael Dembrow

The film is a very contemporary tale. Why this need for the country’s current reality?

First of all, it’s because Angola has lived forty years of civil war. The real images of the country aren’t well known because those that one sees on television always depict a country that is poor and at war. However, even with the war, there are other images. I indeed tried to show that there is a great social rift between the rich and the poor, and that they live in very different ways. It’s that realistic element that I wanted to be very much present, in order to give a sense of what Angola is. People in the West know that there was a war between the MPLA and UNITA: but what is the MPLA? What is UNITA? No one knows. People know that Africans were killing each other to acquire power. Myself, I wanted also to speak to the social dimension, because in Africa it is already so difficult to find the money to make movies that the camera must be a powerful weapon to allow our country and our cinema to be known.

The Angolan public inherently knows this reality: there’s no need to show it to them in a film, right?

No, no, I wasn’t thinking of that in terms just of Angola. It’s necessary that the film be the most commercial possible, and internationalized to the maximum. But I held on to things like Angolan humor, which Angolans would recognize. That’s important.

Beneath the surface of the story there are a number of points directed at the politicians who exploit humanistic discourse, at deficiencies in the public health sector . . . a critical vision.

Yes, I wanted to use the camera like a weapon: in order to say that lots of things need to be done politically . . . Politicians are always using the excuse of the war in order to avoid doing things, but now that the war is finished, they’ve got to work for the people’s good. And in my opinion, we’re very far from that. Whether one likes it or not, those disabled by war were in the service of those in power. Those in power relied on these soldiers. Thus, it’s essential that those in power recognize these people and make it possible for them to have a normal life. Since many of them were conscripted at a very young age and knew nothing other than killing their fellow human beings, it’s necessary to teach them a trade. That is the responsibility of those in power. It’s for that reason that my perspective is optimistic at the end, in order to show the politicians that it is possible. Being disabled doesn’t mean being incapacitated. They can do light work, learn computer programming, become a cobbler. An amputee can do that perfectly. It’s an important task: they need to be involved in society and be given the opportunity to live with dignity.

So this story also has the goal, for the Angolan public, of encouraging people to manage for themselves and demonstrate day-to-day courage.

Exactly. And that’s going to depend a great deal on those in power. Because it’s those in power who must find the means to educate those people. Of course there are NGOs [Non-Governmental Organizations], but the NGOs are not going to get us there without political will. It’s important to know that apart from Cambodia, Angola is the country most burdened with land mines; it’s said that there are 15 land mines per person. We need to “de-mine” the country. We need to help the people. And I, as an Angolan, all I can do is denounce indifference, so that people recover the awareness that we have a serious problem and we must do something for these people.

Vitório fought for 20 years, spent his youth in that way, as he says himself, and then this society hardly recognizes him as a hero. Is that what we see today in Angola? This separation between the war and a society that lived apart from the war?

That’s exactly right. The hero played by Makéna is, for me, emblematic of lots of Angolans who live in situations that are completely comparable, without any aid, without work, without anything. I chose Makéna, a man who is disabled by war, which is even more serious, but there are also people who are not amputees, and who live in exactly the same situation. So, he’s not a classical hero, but more the anonymous, everyman hero. And that pleases me more, because the classical heroes are what we study in school. History tells us who they are. And for me, in an African country, it’s essential that one provides images of other heroes--even those not maimed by war--who somehow manage every day to try to live and to have a certain dignity. All of that social element interests me. I cannot allow myself to amuse myself by making an American film filled with special effects. I did use some special effects, because it was necessary in order to eliminate Makéna’s leg, otherwise . . .

What made you choose an actor from Senegal?

This was my first feature film. I had made documentaries and short films, but for this first feature film I needed a real actor. The casting process hadn’t given me anything. Makéna gave me everything that I needed in terms of his work, because it’s a difficult role, a carefully composed role, and physically very difficult because he spends 80% of the film with his leg folded back. That’s tough. I couldn’t take the risk of having an actor who wouldn’t work out. After spending 12 years looking for the money to make this film, if the film were to fail because of the actor, it would take me 20 years to make a second one! That’s what made me make that choice. But the rest of the cast was essentially local. I was criticized for casting him. Local people said to me, “We have actors here, why did you have to go get a Senegalese?” I naturally defended myself, saying that if one has need of an actor, one can go look for whomever one wants. If I had wanted an American, I would have taken an American! This is where you can see the generosity of a professional actor. Makéna had nothing to do with the history of Angola. In Senegal things aren’t at all like that. But he gave everything he had for this film. I believe that I did the right thing in choosing only professionals. That’s how our cinema can further evolve. If we work a lot with real actors, that’s going to make us develop also, and it gives work to people for whom this is their profession.

Makéna plays a somewhat pitiable character. One wonders if his combat was worth it, in that he finds himself so rejected; he is truly tossed on the scrap-heap, when he should have been treated like a hero. And he is confronted by all the perversity that has developed with the war.

As a war hero, he deserves to be respected. But in reality he is not. That I believe is the central point of the film. A guy like that, who spends twenty years fighting, and he winds up with nothing, sleeping out on the street, homeless.

There is no pension for these soldiers?

There are, but it’s very little: it amounts to around $40 per month. But the cost of living in Luanda is very expensive: an entrée, a beer, and a dessert costs $30.

And they get $40?

Yes, $50 maximum.

Why is it as expensive as that in Angola?

It’s precisely because of the war: everything is imported. The fields where the farmers work are loaded with land mines. Luanda was a city made for 500,000 people. Today there are 4 million living there. All the villagers came to the capital because of the war and the land mines. It’s a very tough city. But to return to your question, I believe that one can clearly see the extent to which people can be used. That is to say, those in power use these citizens to get themselves installed, but after the war is over, they forget them as if they were shit, non-existent. It’s that side of things that I wanted to show, and thereby to affect my fellow citizens and the politicians.

The subject of women. These are excellent actresses. Are they Angolans?

There are two Brazilians, and the actress who plays Johanna, the teacher, has a father from Guinea-Bissau and a Portuguese mother.

It’s she who says, “As for me, I don’t want to have children in such a devastated country”? It’s terrible that a woman would say that, it’s very strong . . .

Yes, because there are plenty of children in the streets. It’s another task for the government to find the means to train these young people, who are the future of the nation. These children have got to go to school, have a trade. We’ve got to look out for these people.

In the middle of so much difficulty, your film has an extremely optimistic side. There are examples of solidarity that arise, a number of nice stories. It’s kind of a fairy tale: this Makéna, who’s headed down the drain, and winds up with plenty of women who love him.

That’s my optimistic side: I find that anyone who waits twelve years to make a film has got to be an optimist. I have a great deal of hope.

You mean to say that you believe that this culture has the force to bring the country back?

Yes, I’m someone who believes that with the political will, we can restore the country in a brief period of time: 15-30 years. That’s what makes me always optimistic. This country is so rich: if we can share out those riches in a natural way, we can get there.

Angola is a fascinating country: great cultural richness, and at the same time also this economic richness, with oil and diamonds, which led to the 30-year war. What will allow it to get going again?

First of all, democracy must take hold naturally and vigorously. People have got to respect one another. From that moment on, if we become more nationalistic and love our nation, we can become brothers and grow in a natural way. But the war has left profound marks. People aren’t yet cured. We’ve been talking about elections since 1992, but they still haven’t taken place. It’s necessary that a sense of trust be reborn in Angolans, important that one feels good and, with the help of democracy, respects one’s neighbor.

Your politician character doesn’t seem like he wants to have elections right away.

No! That’s the reality of the country! You don’t have to look far.

I imagine that it’s very difficult to make films and to show films in Angola, and that you can only do it through co-productions.

Yes, in any case that’s how it is. There’s no other way to make films. And exhibiting them is not easy either because there’s only one theater in Luanda that’s equipped to project 35mm films, one in Cabinda, and one in Benguela; on the other hand, in Luanda there are 30 theaters showing videos. You have to go back to 1974 or 1975, to the time of the “Carnation Revolution,” to rediscover a time where everything functioned normally. It’s up to us film people and cultural workers to attempt to get back to that.

What format did you use to shoot the film?

Super 16. 35mm was too expensive.

Digital video wasn’t possible?

It wouldn’t have been difficult; my producer wanted me to shoot in digital. But for my first feature film, I preferred that people who watched the movie would be able to see the film stock and for me to see whether or not I could continue to exercise this craft. I told myself that film was best suited to try this out. But I have nothing against video.

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