Reviewed on February 18th at the 2024 Berlin International Film Festival – Competition. 68 Mins
Genre: Documentary
Director:Â Mati Diop
In Irish Cinemas: 25th October 2024
Twenty-six. That’s the number of invaluable artefacts finally returning to the Kingdom of Dahomey over a century after being taken. These treasures, which include royal thrones and statues crafted in honour of Dahomey’s kings, were looted during the French invasion of 1892, a brutal campaign that resulted in the plundering of thousands of cultural objects. For more than 100 years, these artworks have been displayed in French museums, far from the kingdom where they were created. Today, that region is part of modern-day Benin, and the return of these artefacts represents a significant step toward restoring a portion of its rich cultural heritage.
There are 26 objets d’art that guide the audience through the story of repatriation in Dahomey. Among them is a statue depicting King Ghézo, who ruled the Kingdom of Dahomey from 1818 to 1859. This statue has symbolically guarded the land even in the afterlife, but the king’s spirit has been restless during its time in France, yearning to return home. Mati Diop’s documentary, which won the prestigious Golden Bear at this year’s Berlin Film Festival, offers a haunting reflection on the enduring impact of colonialism. Through an enigmatic lens, the film delves into the journey of these looted artefacts as they prepare to return to their homeland while also addressing the complex and provocative questions that accompany their repatriation.
The statue narrates the history of Dahomey through a poetic voiceover, punctuating observational scenes of the repatriation process. Its distorted and masked voice evokes comparisons to Darth Vader, adding a haunting, otherworldly tone. As the statue speaks, it reflects on the legacy of objectification and exoticism, watching museum staff meticulously pack its fellow sculptures for their long-awaited return home. France and Benin officials closely examine the artefacts, assessing their conditions and ensuring they are fit for transport. In the opening act, the focus centres on these artworks, as archivists carefully document their materials, state of preservation, and significant attributes. Most statues and objects, primarily crafted from wood, have remained remarkably intact despite being displayed in foreign museums for over a century. Director Diop’s camera mirrors this attentive gaze, respectfully capturing the detailed carvings of the statues and offering the audience a final look at these intricate works of art before they are reinstalled in their homeland. The film invites viewers to contemplate the long history these objects have borne and the significance of their repatriation.
The return of 26 artefacts to Benin raises significant questions about conquest, power, and hegemony, prompting deep reflection on the broader implications of their absence from their homeland. The repatriation of these objects to Benin and their display in the royal city of Abomey are met with grand celebrations. Dignitaries and officials gather at the palace to formally welcome the long-lost treasures. People from all corners of the land, dressed in their finest attire, arrive to witness the return of these artworks and reconnect with an essential piece of their cultural heritage. However, access to these precious artefacts remains limited. While their return ignites national pride, it also sparks intense debate among the citizens of Benin. The public discourse shifts to the significance of this moment, as seen during a students’ town hall at the university, where Diop observes passionate exchanges. One young woman, overwhelmed by the sight of the artefacts, tearfully recounts how she wept for 15 minutes in their presence. Her confession draws mixed reactions—some snicker, while others deeply empathise with her emotional response. For many, the return of these objects represents more than just physical artefacts; it symbolises the reclamation of the nation’s soul. For others, however, this moment offers a chance to confront the unresolved trauma of colonialism. One speaker emphasises the challenges faced by rural communities, where access to these treasures will be limited. Another counters, questioning the value of art when many citizens still struggle to access necessities like education, food, and healthcare.
Some in the crowd even see the repatriation as an insult, with only 26 of the estimated 7,000 stolen works returned. To them, the gesture feels patronising—evoking the memory of colonialism disguised as goodwill. While some welcome the return, they argue that the restoration of physical artefacts cannot replace the power of intangible cultural heritage, such as Dahomey’s dance, song, and oral storytelling traditions, which have preserved the nation’s spirit in the absence of the artworks. 26’s presence looms large throughout these events. As a disembodied narrator, he provides a critical voice that reclaims the colonial gaze. His gravelly and resonant voice echoes the restless spirits of those wronged by colonialism. Acting like a refined audio guide on a museum tour, 26’s commentary lingers on the art before delving into the complex questions their display and context provoke. His words challenge the audience to reflect on what they truly see when they admire the beauty of art that was stolen from one culture to satisfy the desires of another. Through his narration, Dahomey reclaims its narrative and forces us to reconsider the relationship between art, ownership, and the legacy of colonialism.
Overall: 6.5/10
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