In the documentary Dahomey, Franco-Senegalese director Mati Diop masterfully presents an interrogative and poetic meditation on constructing national identity in the face of a colonial legacy.
The film begins in the halls of the Musée du quai Branly, where 26 stolen Beninese artifacts are being prepared for shipment from Paris to Benin in a historic act of repatriation by the French government. Washed in fluorescent lighting and barren walls, men handle the statues wearing gloves and masks. Stripped of historical and cultural context, the sterile setting contrasts against the aged appearance of the statues and reduces them to out-of-place and seemingly imprisoned objects.
Though we learn little about the particular histories of each artifact, a haunting narration written by Haitian author Makenzy Orcel speaks from the perspective of the statue of King Ghezo, also known as No. 26. Animated by a distorted chorus of male and female voices, the narrator speaks to us in Fon, a major indigenous language in Benin, and brings the artifact to life.
When they arrive in Benin, the artifacts are unloaded and unpackaged, accompanied by a dynamic welcome by the Beninese people through dance, music and cheering crowds. The celebration offers another contrast to the silence during the packaging in Paris before the journey, and emphasizes that this is, in fact, where the artifacts have always belonged.
Though this welcome suggests the act of repatriation is one of success, this is soon challenged in the centrepiece of the film: a dynamic debate among students of University of Abomey-Calavi on the return of these statues. Diop considers every angle expressed by the students without privileging any of them; while some students view the return of just a few out of thousands of artifacts as an insult, others feel it's an important first step. One student expresses indifference, and another admits that the statues brought her to tears.
Soon after, Diop concludes the film with long, slow shots of Beninese people observing the statues in their new home at the presidential palace in Cotonou, Benin's largest city, inviting us to consider the questions raised in the debate and recognize the new role that they take up in Benin's ongoing history.
Though this is only her second feature-length film, Diop skillfully guides our attention around this multidimensional issue by focusing on the humanity that surrounds this act of repatriation, whether it be the workers handling the statues, the students, observers or just the mundane life existing around their return. Through this lens, Diop recontextualizes the artifacts, merging the past with the present.
The fantastical narration from No. 26 continues throughout Dahomey and offers a well-executed sci-fi contribution that enhances the sense of time transcended through the return of these artifacts. Coupled with an ethereal score from Dean Blunt and Wally Badarou, the film cultivates a spiritual complement to its intellectual exploration.
Dahomey offers a panoramic portrait that asks us to consider: where do we derive meaning from acts of repatriation? In leaving this unanswered, Diop breathes life into the past, while framing the present in an ongoing construction of history.