A still from Dahomey, courtesy of MUBI Canada In the deeply rooted fears of not recognizing home, and home not recognizing you, resonates an astonishing story of lost artifacts. French-Senegalese filmmaker Mati Diop’s Dahomey chronicles 26 royal treasures that return to their origin of present-day Benin (formerly the Kingdom of Dahomey). Written and directed by Diop, she personifies these artifacts by giving a voice to their lost impact, and provoking conversations about how they ought to be measured in the context of restitution. What value do these treasures hold, and for whom? What do they signify for cultural identity? Is the act of bringing them home a victory, or an insult to the thousands of voices still hidden in the dark? Part documentary, part surrealist cinematic work of fiction, Dahomey examines the past through a mystical perspective of relics’ souls. With futuristic-sounding narration, impassioned student debates, and hypnotic procedural shots, Diop visualizes an ancestral homecoming. After the French invasion of Dahomey in 1890, thousands of artifacts were seized by colonial troops and donated to the Musée d’Ethnographie du Trocadéro (now the Musée de l’Homme). Among these thousands were the now-repatriated 26 artifacts, which had been kept in the Musée du Quai Branly since the year 2000. For centuries, these irreplaceable treasures had not seen the light of day in their country of origin. Pleas for the repatriation of African heritage were ignored until 2016, when Patrice Talon (President of the Republic of Benin) officially requested the French government to return the pillaged objects. This request led to a French law passed in 2020 that specified restitutions must be made within a year. Set in November 2021, Dahomey follows the meticulous transportation of 26 royal treasures from Paris, France, to their rightful home of Benin, West Africa. The film subverts traditional documentarian expectations of talking heads and bullet point summaries. In a poetic fusion of fact and fiction, Diop tells the story from the artifacts’ points of view. Within the first few minutes, an evocative voice begins to narrate from the abyss of a black screen. The voice speaks in Fon, a Dahomean language spoken primarily in Benin. This spellbinding introduction sets the stage for an avant-garde exploration of the past through futuristic eyes. From the consciousness of trapped Beninese culture, to the effects of colonization on the present-day, Diop brings incredibly vivid layers to subjects of infinite weight. She finds terrific ways to visualize the perspectives both of lost artifacts and the lost people of Benin. When the royal treasures are returned home after centuries of displaced exhibition, they see a new light of day. Benin is no longer the place it was in the 1800s, and that sense of vast unfamiliarity provokes a myriad of mixed emotions. The act of returning these artifacts might be celebratory and indicative of some progress made, but more work needs to be done. Diop rightfully never lets the viewer forget this sentiment. She films with stunning precision, taking the time needed to grasp how much reverberating power the artifacts carry. Dahomey moves to a poetic rhythm, and packs powerful material into its 68-minute runtime. Inside the Musée du Quai Branly, we get scenes of methodological handlings. Museum workers examine, carry, crate, transport, repeat. Diop conveys these moments with brilliant attentiveness. The camera circles the artifacts in awe of their rarity, and lingers on them for as long as possible before cloaking them in the darkness of crates. Diop’s textured direction also brings a palpable uneasiness to the museum scenes. The camera moves inside these crates, capturing muffled sounds from the outside world, as though you are being transported alongside the artifacts on their confined journey. This sensory personification creates an immersive, unforgettable experience. Given the centuries-old history at hand, it's surreal that such repatriations actually happened in this lifetime. Dahomey exists in that lens of surrealism. With dreamlike artistry, Diop tells this story in the most uninhibited way. She expands on the possibilities of where a narrative can take you. The juxtaposition of disembodied Fon voices filling the space of a public art forum like the Musée du Quai Branly stands out. The statues are on display while the realities of their history are buried behind museum walls. In giving them a life form, Diop challenges the idea of artifacts as art. This conversation expands in one of the most impactful scenes of Dahomey: the auditorium debates at the University of Abomey-Calavi in Benin. As students debate the significance of the artifacts being returned, a resonating thread emerges on cultural identity and learning about Benin history in the French language. Diop holds space for a younger generation to take turns describing what the absence of culture has done, which in turn gives us a ground-level look at the impact of colonization. Making extraordinary images from an invisible world, Dahomey is an insightful reversal of African history. The film shines a spotlight on the young generations of Benin whose inquisitive minds end us on a hopeful note. As the spirit of an artifact narrates, “Within me resonates infinity.” Dahomey blends the past, present, and future into one stream of consciousness, where traces of history are carried to immeasurable places. Mati Diop has crafted far and away one of the most vital documentaries of our lifetime. Watch the 2024 Berlinale Golden Bear winner Dahomey in Toronto cinemas starting November 1.
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