Lack or challenges in West Indian cinema?
On April 12th, 2024, the Calypso bookstore hosted a discussion with Guillaume Robillard. With a phD in cinema, he presented his book “Conquering Space and Time: West Indian Cinema*”. I purposely waited a few months before revisiting this exchange, hosted by Françoise Simasotchi-Bronès, Professor of French Literature. I wanted to give my brain time to select the points discussed that would be interesting to keep a record of.
Having read the book last year, I had no particular expectations of this presentation other than to learn more about the research process. Guillaume Robillard has carried out the tedious task of identifying and locating feature films from French West Indian cinema created since the 1960s. Indeed, most of these works are oneshots that are rarely listed by official film organizations. He said a bit amused that some directors claim not to have kept any copies of films they consider too unfinished to pass on anyway. His work stems from a need to fill an academic void and update the panorama proposed by journalist Osange Silou-Kieffer in the early 90s with “Le cinéma dans la diaspora africaine : les Antilles françaises”. Lack remains the key word in this discussion... but from a Karukerament point of view, how do these gaps allow us to think differently about art-cinema and industry-cinema?
The lack of genre diversity... or the challenge of (re)inventing genres?
In “Conquest of Space and Time”, the representation of human beings fades into the background to highlight the link with slavery's colonial past. Our cinema denounces, our cinema educates, our cinema testifies, but in the end it's rarely seen as entertainment. Even hood films are only considered worthy of interest if they’re like documentaries, if they show "the real, difficult reality of youth". Because of our colonial slavery past, must violence be our only standard of representation?
Deploring a lack of diversity in the themes of French West Indian cinema, Guillaume Robillard, like filmmaker Alain Bidard, advocates the development of genre cinema such as thrillers, crime thrillers, fantasy and romance. In fact, the discussion ended with the question: why is it that West Indian cinema still lacks a great love story? Beyond the fact that romance is a genre scorned because it's associated with the feminine, I think it's above all a question of our filmmakers' inability to think of Black female characters as multidimensional and to think of Black masculinities detached from violence and poverty. It's not enough just to say you're going to write a love story. When it comes to two Black characters, there's a real issue of representation that goes beyond simple romance.
My biggest fear is that some filmmakers will use the romance genre to push solely a representation of interracial relationships (Black/White), as cinema and television are already doing in France. Without repeating what I talk about at length in the episodes of “Tim Tim? Bwa Fik!” podcast, telling happy love stories with "West Indian" characters is still impossible in a French approach to fiction because we're not clear on our definition of happiness yet... We'll have films with love stories the day we find it important to also tell ourselves as human beings capable of loving each other, despite the contemporary economic, political and social context. That said, given the many films that tell of the violence in our society, this means that our filmmakers can invent their vision of romance, thrillers and fantasy. They have no precedent to imitate or reject. But they still need to have the courage to leave behind the violence trope... Yeah, after the obstacle course to produce a feature film, comes the obstacle course to get access to cinema.
Lack of distribution... or the challenge of (re)defining the cinema experience?
The million-admissions threshold is one of the criteria for success for a French film. Of the fifty or so French feature films released in 2023, the majority failed to break the million-admission barrier. We could debate the relevance of keeping the million admissions mark as a criterion of success at a time when a cinema ticket costs more than 10 euros and the majority of the public already pays at least one subscription to a streaming service, but one thing is certain: the system chooses filmmakers who receive the necessary support to make films throughout their lives. For example, Jacques Audiard has 11 feature films (as director) to his credit over some 30 years, an average of one feature film every three years or so. He has won numerous awards and enjoyed both popular success and/or critical acclaim, as well as commercial "failures". His film “Les Olympiades” only made 194,000 admissions in 2021, but his film “Emilia Pérez” won the Prix du Jury at the Cannes Film Festival in 2024. The current French system allows for a career of ups and downs. But has the French system given our filmmakers this opportunity?
Winning international awards, gaining Hollywood recognition and writing one's name in the history of international cinema, as Euzhan Palcy has done, is not part of the criteria for receiving the system's unconditional support in national distribution. Having said that, from a Karukerament point of view, this lack of support pushes you to step out of your comfort zone and sometimes accomplish more than you thought you were capable of. Hence my question about our real expectations for the national distribution system in 2024. Guillaume Robillard reminded us that for a long time, Guadeloupe was the French department with the fewest cinemas per capita. Since CNC funding is based in part on box-office success, a smaller number of cinemas would mean fewer box-office opportunities, and therefore less local film funding. But here we are in 2024, so why should we continue to see distribution as a single circuit?
In Jean-Claude Barny's “Nèg Maron”, Pedro reminisces about going to the Renaissance cinema when he was on vacation in Guadeloupe. Guillaume Robillard remembers going to the cinema with his class to watch “Siméon” by Euzhan Palcy in the early 90s. "Going to the cinema" and "watching a film" are two different actions, and it's up to each filmmaker to know what intention he or she wants the audience to put behind these actions. Certainly, I hear the prestige of being distributed on a grand scale in multiplexes. Sharing moments of laughter or sadness in a cinema, as I did for Jean-Claude Barny's “Le Gang des Antillais” or Jimmy Laporal-Trésor's “Les Rascals”, has its charm... As does watching Alain Bidard's “Battledream Chronicle” in my cozy home, or enjoying a family outing over a bokit in a restaurant, as I did with Kichena's “Mauvais Choix”. Each experience was different, but each one of them is a memory I treasure. Why should I value any of these films solely because of the conditions in which I watched them? Ultimately, from a Karukerament point of view, the issue is not that our films should be accessible in cinemas as a priority, but that they should be accessible outside cinemas. The rise of streaming over the last fifteen years and the pandemic have highlighted a different way of consuming films.
There was a time when films were watched outdoors. The opening sequence of John Singleton's “Poetic Justice” shows the drive-in as a strong cultural symbol of the American way of life in the 90s. Cultural initiatives such as Ciné Woulé have been bringing the cinema experience to the population for 30 years in Guadeloupe and Martinique. With a facility less costly than a multiplex, the limited number of simultaneous screenings reinforces the intention to experience cinema in its collective human dimension. Would this be a more suitable space to showcase the abundant production of local short films? Would it be a more appropriate space for Guadeloupeans (and Martiniquans) to dream together as they share these moments of conviviality? After all, what's the point of making films? It's one thing to lament the lack of financial resources and the absence of an industry, but do we know what kind of industry we want for ourselves? Even without COVID and even without streaming, the major film industries were already dysfunctional on several levels. Do we really want to imitate them?
Lack of transmission or the challenge of growing in total freedom?
Until four years ago, I had no problem with the term Cariwood to symbolize the idea of a Caribbean film industry to rival Hollywood, Bollywood or Nollywood... Then I realized that other cultures had developed their cinema independently of this "wood" vision. Korean and Hong Kong cinema industries are references today, without being considered as economic and/or artistic models to be followed. And this is perhaps our greatest challenge today. How can we develop a model to follow when our "successful" filmmakers have completely different backgrounds? Whatever one's opinion on the quality of their films or the format they choose, the careers of Christian Lara, Euzhan Palcy, Sarah Maldoror, Jean-Claude Barny, Pascal Légitimus and Alain Bidard, Julien Dalle, Mariette Monpierre all have one thing in common: the desire to tell a story.
The older I get, the more I nuance my definition of transmission. I have the impression that, for the majority, passing on knowledge means only being in direct contact with the artist you want as a mentor, it means that the elders must support the younger ones... Guillaume Robillard spoke of the disappointment and even bitterness of some filmmakers when the mentor they wanted didn't live up to their expectations. And yet, in the context of artistic creation, being mentored is not necessarily a positive thing when you share neither the same approach nor the same goal for your art. Refusing to create a relationship with an artist seeking guidance is also an act of transmission. It's natural to want to consult the elders who have gone before us on an artistic path, but it's important to build your own system of validation if you want to go into commercial art. Especially when you're from Guadeloupe, because we're in the process of developing our own cinematographic codes. If you try too hard to function like others, you can lose yourself. If you want validation from others too much, you can lose yourself. Sometimes, not getting the help you want can be beneficial, as it encourages you to explore your creativity further.
I'm still puzzled when I hear Christian Lara's name mentioned with annoyance, even contempt, because he’s deemed to not have passed on his knowledge to younger filmmakers... Like Maryse Condé, his career stands on its own as an act of transmission. This doesn't mean that we should imitate them, but it does mean that everyone can allow themselves to dream big when they have the will to follow through on their artistic approach. I'm not saying that the advice or support of a more experienced person is useless. I'm saying that the absence of such support doesn't mean that it's impossible to develop an artistic career on one's own terms. And I would add that not following in the footsteps of a great artist gives you all the more freedom to find your own artistic identity. The biggest budget in the world will never replace a vision for your art and the authenticity of the stories you want to tell. If our short films stand out at international festivals, we're on the right track, but what about recognition from the local audience represented in these stories?
I attended Euzhan Palcy's retrospective in February 2024. I was pleasantly surprised by her vision, which focused on connecting with the public. Pierre-Édouard Décimus and Jocelyne Béroard have been doing this for 40 years with Kassav's Zouk. Giving their audience dignity and pride has always been their priority. If there's a lesson in transmission to be learned from these people who represent our artistic excellence on an international level, perhaps it's this approach to creation that I still hear too little of in the artists (whatever their chosen field) of my generation? What I hear is the need for validation and the anger at not receiving it. What I hear is the desire to denounce a system while we continue to devalue ourselves to fit right into it. What I'd like to hear more of is the desire to connect with the public from home, the desire to show our humanity, our moments of sorrow and above all our moments of joy.
karukerament question
In a short exchange on social media around a Podcast on the difficulties of financing Caribbean cinema, I mentioned the fact that Caribbean filmmakers in the US are always looking for the "trick" to hack the financing system for their films. For them, it's a matter of convincing the big studios, just as for us it's a matter of convincing the CNC to make feature films... But is this really what our cinema needs? For the moment, I think the overriding challenge is to make what already exists accessible to organize an industry that, by default, targets a multilingual audience scattered around the world. Why, as a Guadeloupean person, should living in Paris prevent me from accessing a Cuban or Trinidadian film available only in Cuba or Trinidad in their original language? For the past three years, I've been hearing the "Netflix or another big platform should fund us" argument at festival roundtables. When I see what Netflix has done to the production of K-dramas, I would tend to say that we shouldn't count on these big non-Caribbean platforms if we want to keep control of our production and, above all, manage fairly the benefits for our countries' economies... But that's a subject for another day.
Conclusion
“Conquest of Space and Time” provides food for thought on our approach to time and space, but leaves the door open to the representation of human beings and the construction of a Caribbean film market. It's a paradox for me to base an analysis of films from Guadeloupe and Martinique on Glissant's concepts, without connecting them more closely to films from other Caribbean countries to enhance the value of this assumed insider's point of view... Moreover, by using the formula "Antillean cinema (Guadeloupe, Martinique)", Guillaume Robillard allows himself to overlook the Caribbean dimension of his work and the differences in context between the two islands. For example, would a “Coco La Fleur candidate” have approached politics in the same way in the Martinican context? Perhaps this was one of the issues that Guillaume Robillard dropped along the way, given the scale of his research? Having said that, he proposes the distinction between cinéma-péyi and cinéma-lotbòdlò, which recognizes a duality of cultural identity, putting an end to the debate on "true or false West Indians" that I still see a little too much of. The relationship between the local community and the diaspora is an aspect I've explored in all three seasons of Karukerament, notably with Guillaume Lorin's “Vanille” and Pascal Légitimus' “Antilles-sur-Seine”. There's a difference between the two communities, but that doesn't mean that this difference should divide us. On the contrary, History shows us that our successes are based on cooperation and unity between the two islands.
In the preface, Christian Lara advocates a distinction between "Guadeloupean cinema" and "Martinican cinema". Managing to think of yourself as such means having already done the work of asserting yourself in the face of the world, in order to make career choices that make sense for yourself. This brings us back to the question of the purpose of one's art, and the importance of being in alignment with the act of creation.
Over the past fifty years, Guadeloupe and Martinique have been the breeding grounds for pioneers in international cinema. This is neither chance nor luck. Today's filmmakers don't start at ground zero. They are the heirs of pioneers whose careers have opened up the field of possibilities. What vision of the world do they want to convey? One of the last comments in the discussion concerned recent films with a postcard aesthetic and no historical value. From a Karukerament point of view, this trend may well mark the end of the conquest of time and space’s phase. Showing us enjoying a lifestyle that the colonial viewpoint considers heavenly is not incompatible with telling the story of our humanity. We'll always have to recount the painful past, but there's also room for a narrative about what makes us happy in our present and future. We have the right to be the main characters at the center of such stories. We have the right to tell our stories using codes and formats that don't correspond to those of Hollywood or the French industry. And, as an audience, I can't wait to see how our filmmakers rise to the challenge.
*West Indian cinema: in French, people in Guadeloupe and Martinique have been using more and more the term Caribbean to describe themselves. However, when they say “West Indian”, they usually mean strictly Guadeloupe + Martinique. Other Caribbean islands in the same geographical region are identified as Caribbean. I mean a film from Trinidad and Tobago wouldn’t be called a West Indian film but a Caribbean film, but they’d still agree that Trinidad and Tobago belong to the Lesser Antilles like Guadeloupe and Martinique … I stopped trying to make it make sense.