A veteran of the “L.A. Rebellion” movement, in which Black film-makers dedicated themselves to depicting African-American lives with unusual depth and complexity, Billy Woodberry has amassed a slender but highly regarded body of work. The 74-year-old director is in Rotterdam this week for the world premiere of his first feature in almost a decade, Mário, an austere but absorbing bio-documentary about Mário Coelho Pinto de Andrade (1928-1990), a major player in the anti-colonial struggles of his native Angola. Andrade also earned international renown as a politically engaged intellectual, poet and philosopher, from Lisbon to Paris, Mozambique to Cape Verde.
Woodberry relies heavily on archive footage and vintage stills, letters and documents, all punctuated by contemporary interviews and a deliciously retro soundtrack of lilting Afro-jazz music. His respectful, sober, discursive approach feels a little dry in places, lacking the stylistic invention common among 21st century documentaries. Light on background context, Mário is also mostly preaching to the converted, with few concessions to casual mainstream viewers, which means it will likely have limited appeal outside niche-interest festival, academic and political circles. Even so, Woodberry has fashioned an engaging and thoughtful audio-visual tapestry from a rich, eventful, fascinating life story. The multi-layered portrait of Andrade that emerges is of a cultured, smart, quietly charismatic, sharply dressed dude.
Born in Angola under Portuguese colonial rule, Andrade embraced revolutionary ideas at Lisbon university and the Sorbonne in Paris. After co-founding the Angolan Communist Party, he helped create the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), becoming the group’s first president in 1960. He spent much of his life in exile, on the run, or travelling the world forming alliances with other Pan-African revolutionaries and Cold War allies. But by the time Angola achieved full independence from Portugal in 1975, the MPLA has splintered into violent factionalism and Andrade had been expelled by its new leader, Agostinho Neto. Post-colonial Angola’s first president, Neto imposed a one-party Marxist-Leninist state, violently repressing any challenges to his power.
The starry background cast of Mario reads like a supergroup of revolutionary thinkers, freedom fighters and political heavyweights. Nelson Mandela, Frantz Fanon, Fidel Castro, Patrice Lumumba, Che Guevara, Samora Machel and more cross paths with Andrade, alongside cameos from Chairman Mao and Nikita Khrushchev, plus European leftist film-makers Chris Marker and Gillo Pontecorvo. Indeed, Andrade’s French-born wife Sarah Maldoror worked on Pontecorvo’s classic film The Battle of Algiers (1966), later directing her own drama about the Angolan liberation movement, Sambizanga (1972). Frustratingly, Woodberry presents these encounters as fleeting snapshots, perhaps due to limited screen time or skimpy evidence. A little more detail on how Andrade interacted with these world-historical figures could have been very welcome.
Woodberry allows Andrade to narrate much of his life through extensive library footage, most notably a detailed biographical interview recorded for Portuguese television in 1986. He also includes recent first-hand interviews with former comrades, journalists, friends and family members, including his two daughters, Henda and Annouchka. Though her father was often absent during her childhood due to being exiled or on the run, Henda shares only fond memories, joking about how he adopted the full revolutionary look with a Ho Chi Minh beard, Lenin’s jacket and a Mao-style collar. Beyond these minor family insights, the film is too coy about Andrade’s private life. His separation from Maldoror, other lovers and later relationships are barely mentioned.
Celebratory without being sentimental or uncritical, Mário ends on a bittersweet note. When Andrade died in 1990, the Angolan government grudgingly allowed his body to to be buried in his homeland, but denied him an official state funeral. Too many of Africa’s revolutionary struggles ended with idealistic dreams crushed by corrupt, authoritarian, nationalist rulers. Woodberry concludes his film with Andrade’s hopeful call, recorded in 1986, for a return to Pan-African solidarity and internationalism. These ideas merit more analysis than one film can deliver, but spending two hours in Andrade’s company still proves to be an informative and stimulating experience.
Director: Billy Woodberry
Cinematography: Peter Chappell, João Vagos
Editing: Luís Nunes
Producers: Rui Alexandre Santos, Maéva Ranaïvojaona, Georg Tiller
Production companies: Divina Comédia (Portugal), Subobscura (Portugal)
World sales: Subobscura
Venue: Rotterdam Film Festival (Harbour)
In Portuguese, English, French
120 minutes
