More than migrants: Senegal’s filmmakers want to tell a different story
| Dakar, Senegal
“Io Capitano,” a movie about Senegalese migrants to Europe, is up for best foreign film at the Oscars on Sunday. But it was made by Italian filmmakers, igniting conversations about what types of stories get told about Africa and by whom.
At Kourtrajmé, a film school in Dakar, members of a new generation of Senegalese filmmakers want to tell their own stories on their own terms. From dramas about slave insurrections to rom-coms about single women in their 30s, they are creating films that showcase a Senegal far more diverse than anything they’ve seen on screen before.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onAn Italian-made movie about Senegal is up for the foreign film Oscar. But at a new film school in Dakar, students are fighting to tell the world their own stories, on their own terms.
The school opened in 2022 and now gets hundreds of applications from all over the continent for about two dozen spots in its fully-funded screenwriting and directing courses. Dakar is the third branch of Kourtrajmé, which was started in 2018 in a disadvantaged suburb of Paris in order to bring new and different voices into the film industry there.
“It’s better to tell our own story because if you don’t do it, people won’t know what exactly African people are living,” explains Leida Ndiaye, a Kourtrajmé student. “Westerners are doing it; they share their history; they share their culture. Why not us?”
On a dusty Monday afternoon, the hallways of the Kourtrajmé film school buzz with nervous chatter and excitement.
It is pitch day, and soon everyone files into a classroom to listen to the students present their screenplay ideas.
The topics cover a wide sweep of Senegalese life, from the story of a 19th-century slave insurrection to a supernatural drama about a woman who can read people’s thoughts.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onAn Italian-made movie about Senegal is up for the foreign film Oscar. But at a new film school in Dakar, students are fighting to tell the world their own stories, on their own terms.
When Leida Ndiaye’s turn comes, she is sweating. “It’s hot in here,” she jokes; the thermostat is blinking 67 degrees Fahrenheit. But soon, she finds her rhythm, describing her idea for a rom-com about a woman in her early 30s who uses her job in human resources to “interview” prospective dates to her birthday party. Ms. Ndiaye explains that she wants to provoke new conversations about dating and marriage.
“A lot of financially independent women are living the same situation here in Senegal,” she says. “The tension between her professional life and her chaotic emotional life leads her to a deep introspection on her true desires and the nature of love.”
Ms. Ndiaye and her classmates at Kourtrajmé are part of a new generation of Senegalese filmmakers who are setting out to tell their own stories on their own terms. With a film about Senegalese migrants, “Io Capitano,” up for best foreign film at the Oscars on Sunday, they know the world is eager to hear about their lives.
But Io Capitano’s success also highlights the challenges they face. The movie was made by Italian filmmakers, igniting conversation about what types of stories get told about Africa and by whom.
“The Italian film is amazing, but it’s another story about migration,” says Emma Sangaré, an American producer and screenwriter, and Kourtrajmé’s co-founder.
For her students, she adds, there is so much more to say.
“All that the cinema world needs”
Kourtrajmé’s popularity is a testament to hunger of young Africans to showcase a different kind of story. The school, which opened in 2022, gets hundreds of applications from all over the continent for about two dozen spots in its screenwriting and directing courses. Both six-month programs are fully funded.
The Dakar school is the third branch of Kourtrajmé, which French director Ladj Ly started in 2018 in a disadvantaged suburb of Paris in order to bring new and different voices into the film industry. Senegal’s Kourtrajmé was founded by Mr. Ly, Ms. Sangaré, and her husband, French Malian director Toumani Sangaré.
For Racine Fall, a current student, the experience of studying at Kourtrajmé has given him belief in the Senegalese film industry.
“We have amazing ideas; we have very good screenwriters; we have good directors,” he says. “We have all that the cinema world needs.”
Last year, “Banel & Adama,” a magical realist romantic drama by French Senegalese director Ramata-Toulaye Sy, premiered to positive reviews at the Cannes film festival. But for many Senegalese filmmakers, a lack of resources and connections still makes the global film circuit hard to break into.
“Io Capitano,” for instance, had budget of more than $8 million, allowing filmmakers to shoot in three countries: Senegal, Morocco, and Italy. That kind of money could transform Senegal’s entire movie industry, Ms. Sangaré says.
But getting funding like that often means turning to American or European producers. In these situations, Ms. Sangaré says the power dynamic makes it hard for young Senegalese filmmakers to assert their authority about the kinds of stories they want to tell.
“[The students] think that they have to write those kinds of stories ... where we often see Africa poor and miserable,” she says. “How can you be independent in your narration and your stories if the ... money and the producers are not from [here]?”
“Why not us?”
Mariama Niang is in director mode, supervising her team as it prepares to shoot an interview for her documentary, “Elle,” on a recent afternoon.
On a sun-filled Dakar rooftop, she moves with authority between the audio engineer, who is setting up the microphones, and the makeup artist, who is dabbing foundation on the interviewee’s forehead. Her assistant director waves her over to approve the framing of the next shot. All the while, she chats away with the woman being interviewed, putting her at ease.
For Ms. Niang, an alumnus of Kourtrajmé who has wanted to be a filmmaker since she was a child, this moment has been a long time coming.
“Cinema is the world,” she says. “In cinema, you can see everything. You can see one movie, and you see all your life in that movie.”
“Elle,” whose title means “she,” follows five Senegalese women who have made names for themselves in their respective industries – from photography to financial consulting – while challenging the common narrative here that women are “just” homemakers and childbearers. It’s a contentious topic that Ms. Niang has wanted to tackle for years, but she couldn’t figure out how to pay for it.
Kourtrajmé changed that. The film school funded half the production, and Ms. Niang used the pitch skills she honed there to convince a private investor to pay for the rest.
Back at Kourtrajmé, Ms. Ndiaye wraps up her own pitch for her rom-com to thunderous applause. Ms. Sangaré says these pitch days are central to the school’s curriculum because they ensure that young filmmakers have the confidence to approach potential funders. Ms. Ndiaye agrees.
“It’s better to tell our own story because if you don’t do it, people won’t know what exactly African people are living,” she explains after her presentation. “Westerners are doing it; they share their history; they share their culture. Why not us?”
