Film
Photo still from 'aKasha' via TIFF.

19 Films from Africa & the Diaspora To Check Out at TIFF 2018

The feature films, documentaries and shorts hailing from the continent and diaspora you can't miss.

We're getting closer to this year's Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and there are intriguing feature films, documentaries and shorts from Africa and the diaspora to look forward to this year.

In it's 43rd year, TIFF seeks to continue to change the way people see the world through film. Some standouts coming from the continent to look out for are Nollywood veteran Genevieve Nnaji's directorial debut, another riveting work from South Africa's Jahmil X.T. Qubeka, a crop of films from North Africa and more.

Check out the films, with synopses from TIFF below.

Read: These 5 Black Directors Are Set To Premiere Films at TIFF 2018


1. Sew the Winter to my Skin | South Africa

Provocative South African filmmaker Jahmil X.T. Qubeka (Of Good Report) returns to the Festival with this rousing reimagining of the hunt for John Kepe, an outlaw in 1950s South Africa who robbed from white colonist farmers and gave to the impoverished Indigenous poor, becoming a threat to the foundations of Apartheid society.

Read more here.

2. aKasha | Sudan/South Africa

Photo still from 'aKasha' via TIFF.

Documentarian hajooj kuka takes a self-assured step towards fictional storytelling in this comedy pivoting on an unlikely love triangle between a boy, a girl, and an AK-47 in rebel-held areas of Sudan.

Read more here.

3. Farming | UK

Photo still from 'Farming' via TIFF.

Actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje draws on his own life for this electrifying feature directorial debut, about a London-born Nigerian child voluntarily placed in a white working-class home as part of a 1960s social experiment, stranding him between cultures and sending him through adolescence on a twisting journey from destructive self-loathing to perseverance.

Read more here.

4. Fig Tree | Ethiopia

Photo still from 'Fig Tree' via TIFF.

Aäläm-Wärqe Davidian's unflinching feature debut, set at the end of the Ethiopian Civil War, follows an Israeli teenage girl as she attempts to save her Christian boyfriend from being drafted, even as she and her family are poised to flee the country.


Read more here.

5. Lionheart | Nigeria

Photo still from 'Lionheart' via TIFF.

In order to save her father's ailing bus company, competent but perennially overlooked Adaeze must find a way to work alongside feckless uncle Godswill, in the sharp and comically observed directorial debut from Nollywood star Genevieve Nnaji.

Read more here.

6. Rafiki | Kenya

The latest from Wanuri Kahiu charts a precarious love story between two young Kenyan women in a society where homosexuality is banned.

Read more here.

7. The Mercy of the Jungle | Belgium/France

Photo still from 'The Mercy of the Jungle' via TIFF.

Set in 1998 at the outset of the Second Congo War, Rwandan director Joël Karekezi's second feature is a propulsive odyssey about a pair of Rwandan soldiers navigating both wilderness and personal existential crises while lost behind enemy lines.

Read more here.

8. Angel | Senegal/Belgium/Netherlands

Photo still from 'Angel' via TIFF.

A fateful encounter between a Senegalese sex worker and a world-famous Belgian racing cyclist turns tragic, in director Koen Mortier's (Ex Drummer) atmospheric and ephemeral film about finite bodies and infinite loves.

Read more here.

9. Look at Me | Tunisia

Photo still from 'Look at Me' via TIFF.

Torn between the life he thought he could leave behind in Tunisia and the life he's created for himself in Marseille, a man finds himself at a crucial crossroads, in Nejib Belkadhi's latest.

Read more here.

10. Twin Flower | Italy

In Laura Luchetti's dark drama about companionship, lost innocence, and shared destiny, two teenagers—one on the run from the immigrant trafficker her father used to work for, the other an illegal migrant from the Ivory Coast—form an unlikely but powerful bond as they travel together across the harsh and beautiful Sardinian landscape.

Read more here.

11. Angelo | Austria/Luxembourg

Photo still from 'Angelo' via TIFF.

In Markus Schleinzer's long-awaited second feature and true-story drama, a young African boy is abducted, sold, and forced into 18th-century Viennese court life where he must wrestle with the restrictions placed upon him by society.

Read more here.

12. EXT. Night | Egypt

Photo still from 'EXT. Night' via TIFF.

When a day in the life of a beleaguered Egyptian filmmaker goes sideways, he witnesses anew issues like class and gender relations, in director Ahmad Abdalla's touching social satire.

Read more here.

13. The Ambassador's Wife | Burkina Faso/Sweden

Although she dreamed of a career in opera, the French Ambassador's wife now lives a restrained life in opulent seclusion in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. With unparalleled precision, Theresa Traore Dahlberg establishes a nuanced and fascinating documentary that subtly delves into the complexity of class, women's roles, and post-colonialism.

Read more here.

14. Dulce | Colombia/USA

A mother in a remote Colombian coastal village teaches her young daughter to swim so she can harvest piangua shellfish alongside the community, in this exquisite documentary that delicately captures the girl's moment of understanding of the urgency and potential threats of survival. Directors: Guille Isa and Angello Faccini.

Read more here.

15. Freedom Fields | Libya

Photo still from 'Freedom Fields' via TIFF.

Naziha Arebi offers an intimate look at post-revolution Libya through the eyes of an aspiring all-female soccer team, whose struggle to gain mainstream acceptance mirrors the broader challenges facing women in contemporary Libyan society.

Read more here.

16. Facing North | Uganda

Beautifully composed and refined, Facing North centres on a bride preparing for her wedding day in a small Ugandan village, and the complexity of her decision to put her faith in a man who has left to pursue greater opportunity abroad. Director: Tukei Muhumuza.

Read more here.

17. Brotherhood | Tunisia

Photo still from 'Brotherhood' via TIFF.

Mohamed is deeply shaken and suspicious when his estranged eldest son returns home to rural Tunisia with a mysterious young wife in tow. Every moment in Meryam Joobeur's wrenching drama is infused with the emotional complexities of a family reunion, and the consequences of past wounds and misunderstanding.

Read more here.

18. Divine Wind | Algeria

Photo still from 'Divine Wind' via TIFF.

A young man and woman form an intense bond when they are assigned to launch an armed action against an oil-refinery in the North African desert, in the latest from veteran Algerian director Merzak Allouache.

Read more here.

19. A Wedding Day | Algeria

In this rich and assured portrait, a crime boss in exile in Algiers oscillates between his business, friends, and the boredom and melancholy of his daily routine.

Read more here.

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Collage by Ta'Ron Joyner

I Would Rather Breathe Than Think Outside the Box

South African artists were already working for little to no pay, but the pandemic has unleashed a flood of exploitative work requests right when we need money the most.

This essay is part of OkayAfrica's SA Reframed series, featuring personal writing from some of South Africa's best young writers edited by Verashni Pillay.

On the radio the other day, I heard a small business owner of a costume design company being interviewed and asked how they have managed to:

a. Reinvent themselves during this period, and

b. Think outside the box while doing so.

Their conversation made me think about how I have not managed to wrap my head around any sort of future, or reinvention outside any kind of box—beyond the one that wraps itself around my immediate reality. When the lockdown was announced, three friends and I withdrew to a remote area where internet access was dubious and, most times, simply not available. I would need to walk a bit of a distance to locate a spot under a tree or up a mountain to be connected for thirty minutes, or so.

Then I would do a basic comb through my emails and respond to work or requests that were already underway pre-lockdown. I only responded to new requests that either afforded me the opportunity to earn an income or those that allowed me to be productive on my own terms.

I was tired, lowkey grateful for the global pause, and no longer interested in the overly productive, overloaded nature of my previous normal. Something about the forced halt made me realise that I was on the edge of everything—myself included. I turned down anything that required me to join the endless online festivals, zoom panel discussions, Instagram takeovers and live readings. I refused all opportunities that needed me to grapple with any sort of forced normalcy. The ones that offered data or airtime or solidarity as compensation or assumed that I had gone pro bono. I needed a moment. I needed the space and time to re-bargain with the point of it all.

The pause was both useful and scary. It brought to the surface fears and revelations about the shortfalls of our industry and how creatives are positioned within the productivity machinery and economy of South Africa, or rather all the ways we fall outside of it.

As Minister of employment and labour Thulas Nxesi mentioned in a briefing two months ago, "On the issue of freelance workers—unfortunately with the current legislation they fall outside. Maybe what we are going to do is that after this we will have to re-look at it in terms of our legislative amendments and start a debate about that." Why are there laws that have gone unchallenged? Who should be challenging them? Why are artists hearing, out loud for the first time, of convenient loopholes that render us outside of an economy that taxes us like everyone else, and consumes us and our work. Yet, in times of crisis, this same economy engages with our art and our productivity and our products, but still deems us on the margin, outside, and non-essential. If we are not assisted financially, how can we be productive, how can we acquire the resources to produce? How can we apply our minds to anything else outside of survival and scrambling to stay afloat.

Pandemics do not mean that artists have gone pro bono

When you approach an artist with the assumption that they have gone pro bono during this time, when you draft an email to request a collaboration, a commission, a participation, a productivity of any kind, please bear in mind that artists are up against an unconcerned and corrupt government that has failed to provide aid and assistance to their sector during this time.

Theatre critic Sara Holdren says "Art is hard and most of it fails—either in small ways or catastrophic ones." In South Africa, the process of making art is hard, sure, but more than that, the conditions and the context in which we make work fails us in catastrophic ways that will require more than a debate and amended legislation. It will need, for starters, a minister who cares about the arts and understands its soul and mechanisms. This pause has brought about more questions and concerns for me than inspiration to reinvent or think outside the box. I have questions about the box itself and why I feel asphyxiated and trapped by its design.

I would rather breathe than think outside of the box

This pandemic has made me question what my career, livelihood and stability have been built on; what has been propping them up all this time, and what has been allowing me to appear valued and valuable in this economy? What does and will the spectrum of value look like in a normal that has been disrupted and now sits in a near distant future that may or may not be near?

Then I find myself vacillating between hope and concern. My hope is that when the pandemic is no longer with us, artists can have a come-to-jesus conversation about what has contributed and exacerbated this attitude and disrespect toward our practice and industry, I hope we can challenge the legislations that we have been dared to challenge, I hope we can be productive in ways that serve us and make sense for our well-being, that we will be paid our worth and that our society will realize that without the artist producing, there will be no art, or music, or films, or books and things that have kept people entertained and creatively nourished during this time.

My concern is that the "free"content artists are currently creating and the free access to art or performances, will not make this realisation possible, and that this kind of access, that was already undervalued and exploited, will be irreversible. The exploitation dialogue is tiring. Being treated as non-essential is tiring and terrifying too, and while most of the world can slowly start going back to work, most artists will probably have to hang tight until 2021, maybe even 2022.

While artists deal with a hoax of an arts and culture department that is dead to us and a minister who tweets more than he does his job, in an ideal world, I wish that artists could afford to indulge uncertainty, and fear, and pause, in ways that allow them to heed the call made by Nicholas Berger in his piece The Forgotten Art of Assembly [Or, Why Theatre Makers Should Stop Making] "We must lean into this pain. We must feel the grief. We must mourn. Mourn the loss of work, the loss of jobs, the loss of money, the loss of life. Mourn the temporary loss of an art form that demands assembly. Lean into the grief. Lean in. Lean in. Lean in. We must remind ourselves that mourning is a human act, not a digital one."

Koleka Putuma is an award-winning poet, playwright and theatre director. Her bestselling debut collection of poems Collective Amnesia is in its 10th print run and her play No Easter Sunday for Queers Sunday for Queers won several awards.

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