Director/writer: Djibril Diop Mambety
Photography: Georges Bracher
Music: Josephine Baker, Mado Robin
Editor: Siro Asteni
Cast: Magaye Niang, Myriam Niang, Christoph Colomb, Moustapha Toure, Aminata Fall, Ousseynou Diop
In Wolof, the language spoken in Senegal and elsewhere in Africa, “Touki Bouki” translates as “The Journey of the Hyena,” which helps to clarify things. The picture can roughly be described as a kind of Bonnie and Clyde story crossed with the classic Western story of dissatisfied young folks in the provinces—or, in this case, an African colony of France—trying to make it to the capital—not Dakar, note, but Paris. A lighthearted Josephine Baker song, “Paris Paris Paris,” underlines the point, coming up on the soundtrack whenever Mory (Magaye Niang) and Anta (Myriam Niang) feel the great city and European cultural capital is within their grasp.
Mory owns a motorcycle on which he has mounted a long-horned cow skull. Life in this remote region is mostly about cattle ranching and Mory gets by working as a cowherd. It’s not what he wants to do with his life—that’s more along the lines of being a bohemian. But early scenes in a slaughterhouse set the tone and foreshadow his more likely doom. Though not a large part of the movie, these scenes are almost the first thing we see. They are intensely disturbing, as we witness pathetic cattle as they realize the danger late and fight helplessly. There’s nothing they can do. Touki Bouki is a low-budget affair and these scenes are not simulations, showing actual livestock slaughterhouse deaths (decapitated and bled out) in a little too much detail for me. But it certainly establishes, however playful events shown here may become, that there is always a desperate deadly seriousness behind the impulse to get away.
In Wolof, the language spoken in Senegal and elsewhere in Africa, “Touki Bouki” translates as “The Journey of the Hyena,” which helps to clarify things. The picture can roughly be described as a kind of Bonnie and Clyde story crossed with the classic Western story of dissatisfied young folks in the provinces—or, in this case, an African colony of France—trying to make it to the capital—not Dakar, note, but Paris. A lighthearted Josephine Baker song, “Paris Paris Paris,” underlines the point, coming up on the soundtrack whenever Mory (Magaye Niang) and Anta (Myriam Niang) feel the great city and European cultural capital is within their grasp.
Mory owns a motorcycle on which he has mounted a long-horned cow skull. Life in this remote region is mostly about cattle ranching and Mory gets by working as a cowherd. It’s not what he wants to do with his life—that’s more along the lines of being a bohemian. But early scenes in a slaughterhouse set the tone and foreshadow his more likely doom. Though not a large part of the movie, these scenes are almost the first thing we see. They are intensely disturbing, as we witness pathetic cattle as they realize the danger late and fight helplessly. There’s nothing they can do. Touki Bouki is a low-budget affair and these scenes are not simulations, showing actual livestock slaughterhouse deaths (decapitated and bled out) in a little too much detail for me. But it certainly establishes, however playful events shown here may become, that there is always a desperate deadly seriousness behind the impulse to get away.
For her part, Anta is a proud university student already intent on getting out of Senegal. I’m a little surprised to see a young woman like her given as much freedom in 1973 as she has, including university education. As we come to know Anta, however, it makes more sense. She is strong and proud and in full possession of herself. She fights with other women in the village she despises for letting themselves be taken advantage of. She tries to protect them, but they only think she is haughty and judgmental, too good for anyone, and they despise her in turn.
More reason to get away. Mory and Anta recognize themselves in each other. Like the Raymond Pettibon line on the cover of Sonic Youth’s Goo it’s “all whirlwind heat and flash. Within a week”—well, they don’t kill her parents, but they do hit the road. We don’t know how long they’ve been together, but it feels natural and like forever, as if they’ve always known they belonged to one another, even if they just met last week. Josephine Baker comes up on the soundtrack, warbling ecstatically, Grace Jones style, “Par-ee Par-ee Par-ee.” Good moments!
But the problem is what it always is—no money. They wander the countryside on Mory’s motorcycle, scheming to find it any way they can. Finally, in a somewhat unlikely and unpleasant scene, they meet Charlie (Ousseynou Diop), a gay man with an eye for Mory. Charlie invites Mory back to his place and, while Charlie is showering, Mory empties his closet and steals all his clothes and suitcases and cash on hand and then, with Anta, his car, and they are down the road again. The motorcycle is left behind and stolen.
Now they are fabulously dressed and Mory is smoking fat stogies as they make their way to Dakar to book passage to Paris. Police are advised to look for them in travel agencies. But they get in and out of the travel agency with no trouble. It looks like they’re going to make it, but Touki Bouki is not that kind of movie—it’s the kind of movie where the youth rebellion principals are foredoomed, though events in the windup are a little confusing. Nevertheless, we briefly return to scenes within the slaughterhouse to make the point. They don’t have to be long. The shock and numbness from the earlier images return almost immediately. Eventually Mory and Anta are separated and Anta is alone on the ship bound for Paris. Mory sits disconsolately next to his recovered motorcycle, but the cow skull has been broken.
Touki Bouki was made by director and writer Djibril Diop Mambety for $30,000 in 1973. It sometimes feels amateurish, and always a little rough, but more than that it is fresh and visually potent, making up with energy and vibrance what it might lack in coherence. More than just hyena, Bouki refers specifically to a well-known African trickster, prankster, and swindler spirit. Touki Bouki thoroughly captures that sense. Martin Scorsese is a big fan, responsible at least in part for its rescue and restoration in this century. It’s a dazzling, colorful, and original movie, an unapologetic portrait of late colonialism, and an interesting admixture of European and African strains.
More reason to get away. Mory and Anta recognize themselves in each other. Like the Raymond Pettibon line on the cover of Sonic Youth’s Goo it’s “all whirlwind heat and flash. Within a week”—well, they don’t kill her parents, but they do hit the road. We don’t know how long they’ve been together, but it feels natural and like forever, as if they’ve always known they belonged to one another, even if they just met last week. Josephine Baker comes up on the soundtrack, warbling ecstatically, Grace Jones style, “Par-ee Par-ee Par-ee.” Good moments!
But the problem is what it always is—no money. They wander the countryside on Mory’s motorcycle, scheming to find it any way they can. Finally, in a somewhat unlikely and unpleasant scene, they meet Charlie (Ousseynou Diop), a gay man with an eye for Mory. Charlie invites Mory back to his place and, while Charlie is showering, Mory empties his closet and steals all his clothes and suitcases and cash on hand and then, with Anta, his car, and they are down the road again. The motorcycle is left behind and stolen.
Now they are fabulously dressed and Mory is smoking fat stogies as they make their way to Dakar to book passage to Paris. Police are advised to look for them in travel agencies. But they get in and out of the travel agency with no trouble. It looks like they’re going to make it, but Touki Bouki is not that kind of movie—it’s the kind of movie where the youth rebellion principals are foredoomed, though events in the windup are a little confusing. Nevertheless, we briefly return to scenes within the slaughterhouse to make the point. They don’t have to be long. The shock and numbness from the earlier images return almost immediately. Eventually Mory and Anta are separated and Anta is alone on the ship bound for Paris. Mory sits disconsolately next to his recovered motorcycle, but the cow skull has been broken.
Touki Bouki was made by director and writer Djibril Diop Mambety for $30,000 in 1973. It sometimes feels amateurish, and always a little rough, but more than that it is fresh and visually potent, making up with energy and vibrance what it might lack in coherence. More than just hyena, Bouki refers specifically to a well-known African trickster, prankster, and swindler spirit. Touki Bouki thoroughly captures that sense. Martin Scorsese is a big fan, responsible at least in part for its rescue and restoration in this century. It’s a dazzling, colorful, and original movie, an unapologetic portrait of late colonialism, and an interesting admixture of European and African strains.
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