Bigger than one girl’s story
expected an “ag shame’’ Disney movie that I might or might not review because political newspapers and Disney movies aren’t known bedfellows. I anticipated some eye-roll-inducing treatment of an Africa that is perennially misunderstood and misrepresented by a problematic Western gaze, where Africa exists in binaries: it’s to be pitied or explored, helped or exploited, and the people are never considered for their nuances and humanity.
Even celebrities I love, such as Meryl Streep and Ellen DeGeneres, have fallen into the boring-to-death trap of “I went on safari in Africa’’, with no country specified.
So, when I was crying within the first 30 minutes of the film, it wasn’t only because the story unfolding before me was brilliant but because of a relief that had been building from a lifetime of not seeing one’s story, one’s self, one’s looks, one’s accents, one’s incongruous sensibilities and peculiar idiosyncrasies represented properly, with sensitivity and integrity, on a big screen. And I’m not even Ugandan.
Explains Nair: “Besides the fact that it comes with the dignity and the struggle, there was still a spirit of joy we call ‘lifest’ in Uganda. I’m very aware of the tropes and I have a high bullshit radar … so it was really important for me to have the story be told in a prismatic way.”
That comes through in how, for example, poverty is filmed from an altered perspective, from within instead of without: it’s not gazed at with an obsession to “help” but is the setting for a million stories that exist within it anyway.
There’s a scene in which Harriet buys paraffin from a Katwe spaza shop. No focus is placed on the fact that paraffin is sold in very small plastic bags no bigger than ubhompi, the flavoured “ices” that many children in South African townships suck on during summer. In terms of the characters’ relationships, it’s about love, a black love elevated from the politicised, retaliatory state that we’ve come to define it as.
This is evidenced by a moment in which Katende the coach apologetically tells his wife that he has turned down a job because of his commitment to the Pioneers. Her response is astounding: “Why do you do this?” she asks with a twisted face. “Why are you sorry for doing the thing you love? This is this family’s work.” And with that, they hug and kiss through the sacrifice.
Coming from a cinéma vérité and documentary background, Nair says her favourite kinds of film are those “where I can tell the story of someone who comes from the place from which the story is told, putting them opposite legendary actors. It’s that alchemy of something that is pure in a child opposite a skilled actor that makes the job of a director [special].”
Speaking of her novice teen lead, Nair says: “Madina sold corn for years; she didn’t need a prop master to tell her how to hold a basket — she taught us. I wanted that dignity of not complaining, not self-pitying, to come through and Madina has that ‘don’t cry for me’ dignity.”
This was Madina Nalwanga’s first role — the casting agents found her after auditioning more than 700 girls. In a technique that speaks to the magic of this universal story, the film’s end credits feature portraits of the actors next to those of their reallife characters, whose stories are still unfolding.
That’s another notable detail about this film: it’s unequivocally a story of now, where the actors are mirroring experiences that aren’t in the distant past.
Speaking of bringing a filmic dimension to chess, Nair says this was by far the most challenging aspect of making the film — “making chess interesting on screen”.
The real-life Robert Katende was the film’s chess consultant and taught all the children to play, especially Madina, who had to learn the moves that Phiona has become famous for.
Whether it’s a box-office hit or not is not something that won’t hinder the critical success of the film, but it is something that worries the director.
I read some reviews on websites such as Shadow and Act, which mar the critical glow of the story by reporting low audience engagement on its opening weekend and how American audiences might not be enticed to see an African film without a white saviour or one that exists outside the popular tropes about the continent.
“Oh, I hope it’s doing well,” Nair says nervously when I ask if she’s concerned about the world’s response.
“It’s been ecstatically reviewed, probably the best reviews of my career by the mainstream top critics, but the audiences have taken so much from this film too and Disney is really loving the effect of that.
“It might be a fully Ugandan film but people are reacting to it in Milwaukee or whatever, and I think it’s so radical that I’m bringing literally my street to your street.’’