Dahomey is not just another “history lesson” documentary, as it boldly exposes the complex issues surrounding the restitution and repatriation of cultural heritage.
By Joseph Jonathan
Dahomey is a feature documentary directed by Senegalese-French filmmaker, Mati Diop, who won the Grand Prix at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival for her feature film debut, the supernatural romantic drama, Atlantics. It had its world premiere at the main competition of the 74th Berlin International Film Festival (Berlinale), where it won the festival’s top prize, the Golden Bear.
Dahomey has also been selected as the Senegalese entry for Best International Feature Film at the 97th Academy Awards, where it has been shortlisted in two categories: ‘Best Documentary Feature Film’ and ‘Best International Feature Film’.
Written by Diop, Dahomey follows the remarkable journey of 26 looted royal artefacts from the West African Kingdom of Dahomey, which were finally returned to their rightful home in the Republic of Benin in 2021.
This repatriated collection is just a small part of the staggering 7,000 pieces plundered by the French from this single location alone, highlighting the vast cultural heritage stolen from Benin during the colonial era.
This fact is further reiterated by a haunting monologue performed by Haitian writer, Makenzy Orcel, as the voice of King Ghezo, one of the artefacts.
Ghezo bemoans their time in exile and in the darkness of foreign museums. “There are thousands of us in this night. We all bear the same scars, uprooted, ripped out, the spoils of massive plundering”, he says.
Through this statement, Ghezo draws the attention to the brutal realities of not-so-distant acts of rapacious colonialism and imperialism, highlighting the painful legacy of cultural displacement and the importance of repatriation.
Despite the pain of exile, Ghezo also expresses the fear of becoming a stranger in his homeland. Ghezo confesses, “I’m torn between the fear of not being recognised by anyone and not recognising anything”.
This fear is not unfounded, as France has been “home” for more than a century and the artefacts have been subjected to the French gaze, interpretation, and narrative, potentially erasing their original significance.
This prolonged separation has created a sense of disconnection, leaving Ghezo to wonder if he and the others will be able to reclaim their rightful place in their homeland, or if they will remain a relic of a distant past, disconnected from the present.
In many ways, Ghezo’s concerns are reflective of the real-life experiences of Africans in diaspora who struggle to fit in and reconnect to their roots when they return to their home countries. As such, they often find themselves caught between two worlds, navigating the complexities of cultural identity, belonging, and heritage.
This sense of disconnection and longing for a lost homeland is a profound reminder of the lasting impact of colonialism, slavery, and other forms of displacement on the lives of Africans and their descendants.
As Diop gives a voice to the artefacts, she liberates them from being mere objects, instead making them come alive as characters in the film, therefore creating a profound and empathetic connection between the audience and the artefacts.
Diop also captures the reactions of different sections of the Beninese people to the return of the artefacts. From the procession and celebrations on the way from the airport, to passers-by taking pictures and visitors to exhibitions of the artefacts at the Palais de la Marina.
However, the most important reactions take place at the University of Abomey-Calavi, where a group of students participate in a forum to discuss the return of the artefacts and what it means for the Beninese people.
For some, it’s a deeply emotional experience: one lady confesses to crying at the sight of the artefacts, awestruck by the ingenuity of their ancestors. In contrast, another student says he feels nothing, which highlights the complexity of individual responses to such historic events.
Others view the return of the artefacts through a more critical lens. Some see it as a token gesture, a politically motivated attempt by the French to distract from domestic pressures. One student goes further, calling the return “a savage insult”, due to the paltry number of artefacts being returned.
This sentiment is shared by others, who feel that the small number of artefacts would be a constant reminder of the vast cultural heritage that remains lost.
Yet, amidst these criticisms, there are also voices of hope and renewal. One student sees the return of the artefacts as an opportunity to rewire people’s understanding of their history, to reclaim and revalue their cultural heritage.
Others argue that the immaterial aspects of their cultural past were never lost and should not be discounted, highlighting the resilience and continuity of their cultural traditions.
Despite the varying opinions of the students, Dahomey does not take a definitive stance or promote a particular perspective, instead it invites the viewer to engage deeply with the complexities of the issue, encouraging them to ponder the validity and subjectivity of each viewpoint and draw their own conclusions.
By doing so, the film avoids being preachy or overly didactic, instead it makes the discussion lively, wide-ranging, and rarely in accordance with any particular point.
As all these go on in Dahomey, the camera is almost always still. Joséphine Drouin-Viallard makes excellent use of her camera to capture odd moments of humanity, such as a guard casually scrolling through their phone while making the rounds at the Palais de la Marina, to the relatable scene of a student dozing off during the discussion session.
Similarly, the artefacts are able to come alive as characters through the use of a subtle, observational style and subjective camera: a technique where the camera is used to show what a character is seeing or experiencing from their own point of view.
Dahomey is not just another “history lesson” documentary, as it boldly exposes the complex issues surrounding the restitution and repatriation of cultural heritage. It is a powerful commentary on the need for decolonisation and the reclaiming of stolen histories.
Rating: 4/5
Joseph Jonathan is a historian who seeks to understand how film shapes our cultural identity as a people. He believes that history is more about the future than the past. When he’s not writing about film, you can catch him listening to music or discussing politics. He tweets @JosieJp3.