The action takes place in Mali, in 1962. A film by Robert Guédiguian (marius and Jeanette)? Neither Ariane Ascaride, nor Gérard Meylan, nor Jean-Pierre Darroussin appear there… However, Twist in Bamako is from the Marseille director. The virtues of socialism at the heart of the plot and the combatant’s khaki clothes, present from the first shots, are proof of this.
The son of a merchant, Samba (Stéphane Bak) embraces the socialist cause with which newly independent Mali falls in love. The portraits of Mao and Lumumba are part of the universe of the young militant, who walks from village to village to talk about the sharing of land and education, quotes Aimé Césaire and fights for the equality of women.
The love story that unites him to Lara (Alice Da Luz), on the run from a marriage according to the Bambara tradition, enriches a story that is certainly sewn with white thread, but breathless. And there’s the twist: in this Bamako buoyed by the hope of a new era, young people sway their hips and let off steam to the rhythm of fashionable music, no matter if it comes from the West.
A filmmaker from L’Estaque and the class struggle, Robert Guédiguian had ventured little in 40 years outside the working-class neighborhoods of Marseille. He had his Armenian episodes (The trip to Armenia, A crazy story), offered his look at Mitterrand (The Champ-de-Mars walker) and… that’s about it.
Twist in Bamako is to be placed among the unusual in his house: a historical fiction, a first “African” film and the second without the muse Ascaride (and companion of life). It is as if, after having denounced the dangers of capitalism so much in the present, it had to change eras, continents and faces in order to renew itself.
In the facts, Twist in Bamako is very Guédiguian, sprinkled with his favorite themes (affection, mutual aid) and his joys of living and humor. “What is emancipation? asks Samba. “To be big and not to be bored anymore,” replies his brother.
If the musical choices leave you dubious (an orchestration that covers the kora), the scenes at the Happy Boys Club in Bamako and the rock posters make sense. They reveal a society with a double appearance, like Samba, khaki shirt during the day, ample and luminous outfit at night.
By playing on contrasts, Robert Guédiguian seems to be saying that it is possible to be both socialist and modern, African and universal. If he is critical of colonial France, he tries to include a Malian look, inserting here and there the black and white photography of Malick Sidibé, who documented the nightclubs of the 1960s.
The historical context serves Guédiguian. In 1962, the new president Modibo Keïta instituted policies that created tensions with the merchant society, but also with those who adhered to Western values. In the polarization of this nascent Mali, the filmmaker reminds us that everything is a question of choice. In his eyes, and in his way of concluding his 22and film (a jump to 2012), there is no doubt: the country chose the wrong side.