Nelson Mandela and Miriam Makeba in Mama Africa. |
By Ed Rampell
Mika Kaurismäki's Mama Africa is a documentary about the singer Miriam Makeba, a sort of South African version of Paul Robeson. Like her African-American counterpart, Makeba used her talent, celebrity and personal wealth to support progressive causes -- most notably in favor of Black rights -- and was made to pay quite a heavy price.
After Makeba’s songs appeared on the soundtrack of an anti-apartheid doc around 1960, Makeba was exiled for life from the land of her birth. The Afrikaner racists, however, blundered; beyond their clutches Makeba’s stardom rose overseas and she used her fame as an artist to speak out on the world stage, including at the U.N. during the height of Africa’s independence movement.
Relocating to New York, a political and cultural epicenter, Makeba debuted at the famous Village Vanguard, and was then befriended by Harry Belafonte -- himself a civil rights icon as well as a singing sensation -- who used his own influence to propel Makeba’s career. Along with other left-leaning stars such as Marlon Brando, Makeba was befriended by show biz’s progressive wing. Around the same time Makeba became the songbird darling of the leaders of the newly independent African states, such as Tanzania’s Julius Nyerere.
As the Black liberation movement in the U.S. intensified and moved from nonviolent protest to its more militant phase, Miriam met, and rather amazingly, married the firebrand activist Stokely Carmichael, who had coined the phrase “Black Power.” Kaurismäki rather cleverly cuts a sequence that goes back and forth from a rabblerousing Carmichael speech to Makeba singing a defiant sounding song. In fact, she performs the latter via a form of scatting, making sounds by rhythmically breathing heavily into the microphone while accompanied by her backup band. (Makeba was also known for incorporating words and letters from her Xhosa indigenous tongue -- which Westerners call “clicking” -- into her songs.)
Mama Africa takes us on a fascinating odyssey to Guinea, where Carmichael and Makeba lived in exile -- he, from racist, segregationist America and she from apartheid South Africa – for much of their 10-year marriage. The film presents a fascinating glimpse into their life abroad and takes us to the home they shared in the so-called “Dark Continent.” Unfortunately, their divorce and the coup that ousted the leftist government that had provided the revolutionary couple with sanctuary are only indicated or mentioned in passing.
Kaurismäki uses typical nonfiction techniques, such as original interviews with talking heads (including ex-husband Hugh Masekela, other musical collaborators, relatives), news clips and other archival movie material. But in addition to the uplifting presence of Makeba herself, what really enlivens Mama Africa is the extensive footage of Makeba performing and strutting her stuff, at concerts, on TV, etc. And once Nelson Mandela is freed from prison, Makeba becomes a daughter for the return home, ending her forced exile from her South African homeland. Retracing the epic footsteps of Miriam Makeba, Mama Africa takes us from tragedy to triumph – and what a thrilling ride it is.
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