Saturday, September 5, 2015

Existing in Love (Half of a Yellow Sun, 2013)


Anika Noni Rose. Chiwetel Ejiofor. Thandie Newton. That’s all I had to see to decide to press play on Half of a Yellow Sun. The film is a poetic and insightful nod to Nigeria, the 1960’s civil-war-torn country in which this film takes place. Although it wasn’t always easy to watch, this movie was definitely worth seeing.

The first half of the film seemed to simply be a series of incidents. Yes, there was conflict, but it never seemed like the action was moving toward any sort of climax. I liked that. I know that goes against fundamental principles of drama, but I really appreciated the simplicity. The plot was a steady undulation of, well, life. Terrible things did happen in this film. Although those things beat upon the characters, they didn’t stop the plot; a film centered on tragedy was not about tragedy. I think that sometimes we like defining people and their lives by their circumstances. This film forced you to look beyond what was happening to people so that you could actually see people. Through those people we were able to experience love in an unconventional way. I think that this idea is especially important in discussing a film that takes place on the African continent. For so long, society has tried to define Africans and people of color by negative circumstances often a result of systems of white supremacy. The characters were not just the effect of a tragic cause, but catalysts within their own lives. 


Love is something that most people want to see on screen. It’s a magnetic fantasy that we all have had in some way or another. Why else do super spies need romantic interests? Love is relatable. So when I saw this film on Netflix I was so hype. I was expecting this movie to be pleasantly corny. You know, girl meets boy, girl falls in love with boy, blah, blah blah. Netflix described it as something to the effect of a love story against the backdrop of war.  I thought that I could focus on the love part and let war be an afterthought. I could be entertained like the thirteen-year-old girl that I secretly am while still being down for the Pan-African cause. Half of a Yellow Sun didn’t let me off so easily. It let me marvel at African intelligence, beauty, and culture while making the characters extremely relatable while simultaneously forcing me to confront hardship.

Half of a Yellow Sun didn’t give us love on a silver Rom-Com platter. However it also didn’t present love in a way so obscure that most people couldn’t understand. We do not see people falling in love, just existing within it. The plot moved steadily along and then boom. War. But war wasn’t the plot. Struggle wasn’t the plot. Love was the plot. And yet still this film wasn’t really romantic. This film played on my girly tendencies—I was looking for love to make me smiley and comfortable. Instead this movie used love to create a way for me to better understand their struggle. I’ve never experienced war, so I don’t think that it is my place to make a generalization based on a film. However, within the context of this movie, love is bigger than violence.



All in all, this film made me say “Yas”, “Preach”, and “Wow.” I promise I have more exclamations in my vocabulary but “yippee” didn’t really seem to fit. I say “Yas” because we saw Black intelligentsia in action, “preach" because when life crumbles before our eyes, there’s still hope even in the darkest situations, and “wow" because even though I’ve never personally experienced war, it felt more close, scary, and uncomfortable than I expected for a film. It built me up then tore me down. I wouldn’t say that this film is perfect, but it did the work that it needed to do. It defied stereotypes, fantasies, and twisted imaginations. The story was captivating because I felt like I was moving with the characters through life instead of viewing their story on a screen. Plus I really loved the costumes.  Half of a Yellow Sun is a simple yet rich love letter to Nigeria. To all of my brothers and sisters for whom war is too familiar, I see you.  

No comments:

Post a Comment