Bwana, by tackling the issue of racism, constitutes a breakthrough for Spanish cinema. Jonathan Holland reports
Taking place over 24 hours and skilfully taking maximum dramatic advantage of a small cast and a single location, Imanol Uribe's Bwana is set in the inhospitable landscape of Cabo Gato, in Almería which is also one of the European frontiers with Africa. It is the kind of Deliverance/Straw Dogs backwater which ain't no place for you city dwellers to be a-strayin', boy. Even when you're making a film: during shooting, one of Uribe's skinheads suffered a broken leg.
The project was suggested to Uribe by Pajares after he had read Ignacio del Moral's play La mirada del hombre oscuro (The Gaze of the Dark Man). 'This is one example of the actors coming to the director rather than the other way round,' explains Uribe. And one of the actors who Pajares suggested should be involved was Uribe's wife. (Uribe confesses to having lavished naturally enough love and care on every member of the cast except Maria Barranco and admits to the occasional 'terrible crisis' during shooting.)
Down-to-earth taxi driver Antonio (Andrés Pajares) and his wife Dori (Maria Barranco) and children Ivan and Jessy (Alejandro Martínez and Andrea Granero) go to the beach but end up with more cackles than cockles. Antonio is the sort of man who removes the spark plug from his taxi, so that nobody will be able to steal it, and then loses the spark plug. Dori is the sort of woman who tells him he's an idiot, and then loses the car-keys. Someone should base a sitcom around them. On the beach they meet black illegal immigrant Ombasi (Emilio Buale), and with whom they enter an uneasy relationship. Lurking threateningly around the edges of the action are a gang of skinheads and a few local smugglers: just the right mix, if you want to explore the issue of racism.
'The idea of making a comedy about racism appealed to me,' Uribe explains. 'I like challenges.' Whereas the Spaniards in the film are 'passively racist' as their children will be Uribe points out that at least the skinheads are 'motivated by their ideology' which is a moot point. There is probably not a single character in Bwana who would know what the word meant.
The performances from Pajares (who in 1984 abandoned the comic roles he is still best-known for and won an prize at Montreal '90 for his performance in Carlos Saura's Ay, Carmela) and a wonderfully breathy, voluptuous Barranco on the edge of a nervous breakdown are excellent:
it looks as though they have been married for years. Buale is suitably statuesque, totemic and stares out accusingly at us ('I want the audience to feel watched,' Uribe says) with all the spirituality of the dark continent, but his role lacks individuality, as if Uribe wants Ombasi to stand for all black men: he is really only a foil for the attitudes of Antonio and Dori.
The racism cuts in all directions. The Spaniards are afraid of everyone except themselves, and everybody is afraid of the knife-wielding skinheads. The children are afraid of the parents, too, suggesting a rarely-considered form of 'racism'. All this fear is channelled by Uribe into moments of real dramatic tension. Dori even has a racially stereotyped dream, in which Ombasi makes love to her it is cleverly cast as a dream so that we won't think all black men are animals - but it is in the hesitant dialogues between Ombasi and the family, that the film works best.
Irube says that he wants us to smile (at gags, for example, about blacks as cannibals) but then he wants the smile to freeze on our faces, during a well prepared change of tone over the last fifteen minutes, as we realize we are laughing at racists like ourselves. After all, in Spain at least, blacks in films and on TV are still the object of much laughter. Uribe succeeds in this, cleverly undercutting his comedy to make his point.
Bwana will be rightly hailed for its intelligence and daring in Spain, where its loud and clear criticism of xenophobia European-style (unfortunately for Spanish cinema) constitutes something of a breakthrough. But its emotionalism is less likely to be appreciated in other contexts, where its portrayal of Ombasi as the harmless, innocent savage runs the risk of itself being seen as racist. 'For me, Bwana is a kind of parable,' Uribe says. 'I've used universal characters. It would be interesting to see what Spike Lee made of it.'
Prod co: Aurum, Cartel y Origen
PC Prod: Andres Santana, Antonio Cardenal
Guión (Scr): Imanol Uribe, Juan Potau, Francisco Pino
Dir: Imanol Uribe
Foto (Ph): Javier Aguirresarobe
Art dir (Prod des): Felix Murcia
Mus: Jose Nieto
Ints (Cast): Andres Pajares, Maria Barranco, Alejandro Martinez, Andrea Granero, Emilio Buale
Duracíon (Running time): 87 mins
Ventas (Int sales): Lider
Programacion (Screening): 19.30, 23 Sept, Principal; 09.00, 22.00, 24 Sept, Victoria Eugenia;16.00, 20.30, 25 Sept, Astoria
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