Born in Cameroon and based in Belgium, Mbakam has several feature-length documentaries to her credit. That documentarian’s eye—concerned and curious—is at work here, evoking the intimacy of a personal diary entry. We follow Mambar through the suffering and occasional celebration; and though she can’t catch a break, what option is there but to forge ahead? Sure, she might brood for a minute, but that impulse soon turns to action: when she suffers an assault and mugging, she goes to a friend for a loan to pay for her son’s school supplies. When she has enough of her husband’s absence, Mambar—against her mother’s warning—files a complaint with authorities. She haggles with a handyman who wants to charge a punitive rate to fix her sewing machine. The electricity is cut off, and so she pays what’s effectively a ransom to a neighbor to turn it back on.
Cinema from Daily Life
Mbakam’s storytelling technique emphasizes showing, never merely telling us about Mambar’s highs (drinking and dancing with friends) and lows (borrowing money from her kids). Things could always be worse, of course, and in three sequences, Mambar suggests as much to friends who visit to confide in (and complain to) her. She’s rightfully more sympathetic to her female friend who was forced into prostitution than the young man who needs to recruit people to a political rally. Mbakam reveals much in these moments not just about the people or their community, but an entire country. Suffering can take many forms, and Mambar’s mild impatience with some of her friends reflects her unwavering desire to move on, and do what needs to be done for her kids and mom. That leads to some uncomfortable, irrevocable decisions—and conversations—about money, culminating in the visit to a government official to summon her husband.
In an interview, Mbakam spoke about how her “desire for cinema began with the people I grew up seeing in my daily life, in my culture.” Indeed, Mbakam profiled her mother in “The Two Faces of a Bamiléké Woman” (2018), and cast her cousin, the splendid Aboheu Njeutha, in the title role here. And while the love and respect for these characters is evident, it’s never hagiographic. The camera observes, allowing the action to run its course and the audience to deduce the message about these people, who are full, layered beings, not caricatures. Leaving plot lines unresolved (the husband never appears, it’s unclear how Mambar will repay a friend’s loan) welcomes viewers to use their imaginations, discovering possibilities that Mbakam and Mambar imply.
A True Family Affair
Debuting at The Directors’ Fortnight in Cannes earlier this year, “Mambar” made its USA premiere at the NYFF this week. It’s the type of film that’s almost always described as “reserved,” but that’s a lazy mischaracterization. Here, Mbakam captures—and lets loose—a range of emotions in each frame. This is a highly expressive film coming from a director with a distinct visual style, who is averse to making a spectacle of the on-screen subjects. There’s one main character, but within Mambar’s orbit is an entire society, a wider culture which both stands in her way and alongside her, participating in the daily grind. Even the antagonists have their reasons: the silent neighbor who flips the light switch, well, he’s got to feed himself, too. Mbakam employs her experience as a documentarian to make a splash with this rookie fiction feature, a true family affair that grows before our eyes.
“Mambar Pierrette” is currently playing at the New York Film Festival. The festival goes from September 29th – October 15th. Join us for continual coverage.
