The selfishness of an all-consuming love brings a curse upon a village in the Senegalese Sahel in Ramata-Toulaye Sy’s strikingly shot debut feature Banel & Adama. Conceived as an interplay between the concreteness of traditional storytelling and the more fantastic flights of a distinctly West African magical realism, the film boldly pushes its female protagonist into increasingly unlikable territory and madness, well-paired with shifts in color and light saturation as a drought – or perhaps global climate change itself – devastates a close-knit community. Handsomely crafted and punctuated by beautiful images, Banel & Adama sets up its themes at the very start and thereafter offers few surprises; it’s a strong first feature but not quite strong enough to lure non-festival audiences.
Running the opening credits in the opposite direction feels like an odd choice at first until we realize that it prefigures a sense of destabilization as well as the main character’s refusal to follow the norms of her society. Banel (Khady Mane) loves Adama (Mamadou Diallo) to the exclusion of all else: she bristles at any task that takes her away from being by his side at all times. She’s an outlier in the village, the sole married woman without her head covered, boldly declaring her lack of interest in having children. Nothing else exists but being with Adama, and she expects him to ensure that never changes. In a Malickian scene of them cavorting in a field she declares “Yes, I love as a woman can love.”
We know it’s all too perfect to last when Adama recounts a legend of his fisherman ancestor who communed with sirens in the river. It was the best of times he says, until the villagers blamed the sirens for luring a girl to her death, and in fury at the false accusation they forbade anyone from entering their waters, thereby ushering in the worst of times. Banel teases her husband for believing such tales, but viewers know this kind of foreshadowing all too well, and the couple’s idyll will be short-lived.
Their match wasn’t planned: Banel was first married to Adama’s older brother Yero, but his accidental (or not) death opened the way for the couple, already in love, to wed. Her mother-in-law (Binta Racine Sy) isn’t pleased that Banel prefers to tend cattle with Adama rather than assume female-centered tasks and have babies, and she’s especially angry that Banel convinced her son to refuse the hereditary mantel of village chief. Furthermore, her daughter-in-law has planted the notion in Adama’s head to dig out a large house completely buried in desert sand on the village outskirts, where they can live apart from everyone else.
It’s interesting how Ramata-Toulaye gradually develops the notion of Banel as a destructive force: she kills birds with her slingshot and plucks off lizards which she pops into a fire. Her brother Racine (Moussa Sow), a kind madrassa teacher, points out that she has no friends, but she doesn’t care – Adama is all she wants. He’s the only man who’s different, she tells a young woman (Ndiabel Diallo) who’s reached marriageable age, in a scene that more clearly reveals her mania. As a devastating drought grips the region, killing off first cattle then people, villagers come to believe that Adama’s refusal to take his rightful place as chief has caused a shift in nature, but Banel barely notices that the community is withering away.
The film very consciously creates a sense of authenticity within the village while positioning what’s just outside as dangerous and unknown, represented in literal fashion by the house the couple dig out of the sand – removing oneself from the supportive ties of kinship is to court obliteration. Banel & Adama plays in provocative ways with Banel’s self-involvement, at first positioning her as a proudly independent figure refusing traditional models imposed on women, but as the film develops, this monomania literally brings death in its wake and becomes a symbol of selfishness versus social engagement. It’s a risky move, one that seems to question the value of resisting traditional gender roles, though it would be foolish to imagine this was Ramata-Toulaye’s intent.
All the performers are non-professionals but carry with them personalities strong enough to convey depth, most especially Khady Mane who bears the full weight of the film on her able, unbending shoulders. Notwithstanding the character’s monstrous selfishness – Banel’s love for Adama is entirely based on her own needs, not his – Mane makes her a captivating figure. Even more compelling is the cinematography by Amine Berrada (The Unknown Saint), which begins with warm saturated light and bold colors that gradually become bleached under the unforgiving sun until the sky is practically white and as dry as the parched soil. Less successful is the over-dramatic use of music heard over a violent wind storm, impressively shot.
Director: Ramata-Toulaye Sy
Screenplay: Ramata-Toulaye Sy
Cast: Khady Mane, Mamadou Diallo, Binta Racine Sy, Moussa Sow, Ndiabel Diallo, Oumar Samba Dia, Amadou Ndiaye, Amadou Hady Sall, Cherif Diallo, Nima Ba, Amadou Kane Sylla
Producers: Éric Névé, Margaux Juvénal, Maud Leclaire Névé
Co-producers: Souleymane Kebé, Oumar Gabar Sy, Adnrey Samouté Diarra
Cinematography: Amine Berrada
Production designer: Oumar Sall
Costume designer: Mariam Diop
Editing: Vincent Tricon
Music: Bachar Mar-Khalifé
Sound: Benjamin Silvestre, Olivier Voisin
Production companies: La Chauve-Souris (France), Take Shelter (France), Astou Productions (Senegal), Astou Film (Senegal), DS Productions (Mali), Canal + International (France), Arte France Cinéma (France)
World sales: Best Friend Forever
Venue: Cannes (competition)
In Pulaar
86 minutes
