Review of Africa United (From Britain With Love)

Africa United

Starring Eriya Ndayambaje, Roger Nsengiyumva, Sanyu Joanita Kintu, Yves Dusenge, and Sherrie Silver
Directed by Debs Gardner-Paterson
Written by Rhidian Brook
2010 (U.K.)

Reviewed by Lynnette Porter

A few films in the From Britain With Love series deal with friendship thoroughly tested during a journey, a universal theme perfect for bridging cultural gaps among audiences. In Africa United, the journey begins with two teenaged boys who share a love of football (soccer to us in the U.S.). This shared interest transcends their very different economic and social backgrounds and propels them on a life-affirming journey.

Tryouts are a first step toward their “dream for the team”—a youth football team gathered by FIFA for the World Cup’s opening ceremony. After making a wrong turn, “manager” Dudu Kayenzi and “star” Fabrice Kabera decide to complete the journey from their home country of Rwanda to the World Cup in South Africa.

It sounds like an impossible dream to make the 3000-mile journey, much of it on foot. Indeed, the power of the dream is another theme woven throughout this film. Dudu dreams of soccer saving the world from all its evils; the opening scene shows the 13-year-old turning a condom, plastic bag, and string into a soccer ball while explaining why football is even better than sex. Throughout the film, Dudu weaves a story about the power of football, and his story/dream is told via brightly colored stop-motion segments.

In a continent torn by AIDS and war, this sports analogy makes more than “kid sense.” Whereas affluent Fabrice’s mother sees education as the way for her son to become a doctor in America, Fabrice only wants to excel in football. Street-smart orphan Dudu and his sister face the same choice between sports and education as a way to a better life. Whereas Dudu sees the World Cup as the high point of life, Beatrice longs to become a doctor and prays for books.

Africa United well illustrates the dreams of many young people. During their journey to South Africa, Dudu, Fabrice, and Beatrice gather George and Celeste, who also want to escape their current lives for something better.

This combination road trip and coming-of-age film may not be all that surprising for the themes and conflicts it tackles. However, the African scenery, from broad lakes to lush jungle to rolling hills, provides a stark contrast to the worlds of villages, refugee camps, HIV testing centers, and metropolitan centers. American audiences may not have seen or really thought about the lives of teens like Dudu or Fabrice, Beatrice or Celeste, but Africa United strives to bring together international audiences as much as it unites these broken, brilliant characters.

For many Americans, Africa United will be both heartwarming and eye opening.

My rating out of five stars:

A Picture Paints a Word or Two

I'm a writer, so I couldn't help but notice all the words shouting at me wherever I walked. Most are part of exhibits, statues, or facades, but they all seemed to be cluing me in to some greater meaning. Or maybe I was reading far too much into them. Still, they spoke to me and put my surroundings into a very different context.













(To all those who have established and are maintaining the right to refuse to kill, Their foresight and courage gives us hope.)








(Is life a boon? If so, it must befal that death, whene'er he call must call too soon.)

Woman about Town

I love to walk. In London I've strolled nearly every bridge across the Thames and trod the cobbles throughout the central city. Although Westminster is a favorite haunt (as it is with any tourist), I find new-to-me routes through Lambeth and Southwark, Camden and the tiny City of London. Not exactly a wide geographic area, but one with plenty of depth to explore. Here are a few of the many things that caught my eye during a wander.

All the World’s a Stage

In the last few weeks, I saw so many players on the various stages of London’s many theatres, as well as plays in various stages of their theatrical lives. Here’s a brief playbill of my favorites from the past month:

War Horse

Now at the New London Theatre and long into its London run, War Horse is a revelation. During a backstage tour of the National Theatre, I saw (and surreptitiously touched) a “horse” cut after previews and now retired as a highly prized prop, but nothing prepared me for the framework to come to life on stage. I sat in the front row center (close enough for my leg to brush Albert’s when he sat on the edge of the stage—and close enough to look up into the horses’ amber eyes when the puppeteers trotted by), but every character, whether actor or puppet, was alive and unique. Because I was so close to the action (even getting “gassed” during one battle, but, hey, isn’t smoke supposed to follow beauty? I coped), I felt that War Horse was almost interactive. I was entranced as well as almost literally entrenched in the story. Go. See it.

Much Ado About Nothing

My co-favorite production is Much Ado About Nothing. Two versions are currently running, but my attention was caught by the modernized (at least to the 1980s) play starring David Tennant and Catherine Tate. I saw it twice in previews and had a blast both times. I’d seen Tennant do drama but not comedy—so the physical comedy as well as perfectly punched up dialogue was a special treat. I could watch him dance (in denim miniskirt or uniform) all evening. He’s loose limbed and looking like he’s having fun. I confess that I’m sometimes lukewarm to Tate’s performances. Loved Donna, but other roles…not so much. I adored her physical comedy here, and although some critics on press night dubbed her performance one note, I enjoyed her work. Again, go. See them—if you can get a ticket. I met some people who were very lucky in the seat lottery, but if you plan to be in London this summer, get tickets online now.

From Drama to Musical, Live Performance to Recordings

I caught In a Forest, Dark and Deep before it left London. The two-person play starred Matthew Fox and Olivia Williams. Both were good overall in the performance I saw, but each achieved great moments as the play darkened and deepened. The plot telegraphed some of the “shock” moments; I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been by the dramatic twists. Still, an interesting night at the theatre.

Also in likely its last weeks is Love Never Dies. OK, I’m a Phantom fan (but not even a phantom fan of the sequel). Although the voices are amazing, the book and music merely left me wanting to see Phantom again. A few days after I saw Love Never Dies at the Adelphi, I read where the revised, vastly improved version will soon debut in Australia and then possibly head to New York. I was irked that the “good” version wasn’t the current London musical.

As a researcher/writer, I sometimes fall into exciting opportunities. The National Theatre provided me with two: one directly for academic articles about the recent production of Frankenstein, one a not-so-guilty pleasure. I always tell my students to pick their research topics carefully. Sometimes I really am glad I follow my own advice.

During the National Theatre tour, I learned about the archives. A few questions later and a gracious guide handed me contact info for the archivists. The two staffers who replied to my email scheduled an appointment for me to view the materials currently available for Frankenstein. It’s still too soon to have much in the file, but I was able to view a recording of the National Theatre Live’s tech rehearsal—an incredible opportunity to see an additional performance and one few have seen. So, on a sunny day, I spent six uninterrupted hours watching that recording and then, to my immense delight, I was able to watch the archival recording of After the Dance. (Such a geek—this is why I’m not tan, even if I live in Florida most of the year. Sunny day outdoors or a Frankenstein/After the Dance combo—a no brainer.)

If the original London cast does indeed make it to Broadway in the next year (a rumor persistent about a month ago but nothing new since), I’ll make it a point to be there, too. In case After the Dance doesn’t make the transatlantic crossing, at least I can say I’ve seen it, even if it wasn’t live performance. Wow—it’s impressive. You might look at a description and not be as enthusiastic if you don’t like period pieces (Dance is set in 1938) or Terence Rattigan, but if you get the chance to see the cast from the London revival—go. The lead performances make the play.

When I walk throughout the West End and lack the time and money to see everything that catches my eye, it’s hard to believe that live theatre is an endangered species. But London is a rarity, as is New York or Toronto. I came away convinced that we have to support theatre, locally, nationally, internationally. All the world’s stages need us to play our part and keep theatre alive. That’s a role I can relish. Let’s see—Paul Gross on stage in Toronto and New York and that rumor about Benedict Cumberbatch coming to New York—I’d better start saving now.

The Alamo

Recently I visited San Antonio to participate in the Popular Culture Association conference. Although I spent most of the visit indoors at conference sessions--really!--I found myself wandering along the Riverwalk and toward the Alamo more than once.

Here are a few visual reminders of the central historic district and Riverwalk one afternoon and evening in late April. The images are my attempt to capture the past caught within the present, the historic within the commercial, the juxtaposition of life surrounded by an aura of death.

It sounds more profound and artistic than my photos really are.

Cinecasting: A View from the Cheap Seats

Danny Boyle's recent production of Frankenstein still intrigues me, now months after I saw it twice (each casting) through the National Theatre Live broadcasts. Without NTL, I wouldn't have seen two performances so mesmerizing that I can still envision particular moments from each. When I read Nick Dear's script (which I ordered from the National Theatre) or listen to Underworld's evocative music (especially my favorite, the joyful "Dawn of Eden"), I remember what I saw at that moment on screen. Frankenstein, for all that it was not perfect, did for me what good theatre should do--it made me, or still makes me, think about the arts, the beauty of these performances, and the questions being raised about what it means to be human.

My reaction would have been different if the actors had been filmed for a movie instead of captured, glitches included, during a live performance. I have been moved by many films, and I love the capability of analyzing each shot close up or replaying certain scenes dozens of times. I still enjoy the act of going to a movie in a darkened theatre, because watching at home just isn't as magical, even if I later attempt to wear out the DVDs of my favorite films. Although I hope that Frankenstein makes it to DVD so that I can share it with more students and treasure the performances once more, a DVD will not recreate the experience of watching NTL and knowing that earlier that day, thousands of miles away, this one-time performance took place.

Please read this article by Kate Abnett, "The Cost of 'Cinecasting.'" In it she discusses the dangers of "cinecasting," that blend of recording a live performance for broadcast internationally. Her concerns and criticisms strike home. I love live theatre, and I try to support it whenever I can, whether it's regional in the Southeastern U.S. or Big Name in New York, Toronto, or London. I don't want to be an accomplice to theatre's murder.

But I can't help but remember my students and I chatting animatedly for more than an hour in the lobby after we watched Frankenstein together. For several of them, the NTL broadcast was their first exposure to theatre--and they loved it.

I understand Jonny Lee Miller's concerned comment at the Frankenstein Q&A that the scene shown from the NTL broadcast was not the way Boyle would've directed it as a film. He reportedly added that Frankenstein was meant to be seen within the National Theatre in a live performance. I understand his point--and I don't doubt that if I had been sitting somewhere in the National Theatre, I would be even more obsessed with Frankenstein (hard to believe, I know). Like Victor, I long for the moment of creation, and to view that on stage, and to know that, whatever happens, the performance can't be repeated--that is an addictive experience. It keeps me returning to theatre year after year.

Cinecasting is less than a film, because it simply captures what happens on stage as it happens. Of course, the techniques and technology are a far cry from early movies that were basically stage plays filmed with one stationary camera. NTL broadcasts are far more sophisticated. Cinecasts are truly a hybrid, and as such, I agree with Abnett, should be considered as a separate form of entertainment and funded or priced accordingly.

In this economy, again, as Abnett noted, the arts in general and smaller companies and programs in particular are being slashed, and the temptation to have only big name performances or blockbusters to make the most money is one that too many businesses find overly attractive. Again, I don't think that a "one-size-fits-all" mentality is conducive to the arts, and having homogenized theatre pandering to the widest paying audience possible often leads to something commercial, but not artistic.

Not every NTL broadcast has to be as controversial or commercially viable as a Frankenstein. I would have gone to see the broadcasts anyway, but certainly having two acclaimed actors, who are two of my favorites, alternate roles gave me yet another reason to attend.

I confess; casting sometimes determines where and when I spend my travel dollars. I tend to make the big trips to see specific actors in specific roles. I can't always afford to do that, and I often wait to watch PBS or or buy a DVD, but sometimes theatre with a Big Name is worth the trip. I got my tickets to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate in Much Ado About Nothing before I booked my flight; I scheduled the trip around the performances I could see. Would I have spent all of fall break seeing La Cage more than once if John Barrowman hadn't been starring? No. I would've waited for a local production or the New York revival so that I could see the play. If Benedict Cumberbatch comes along with After the Dance to Broadway, I'll start planning a getaway weekend.

However, last summer I visited Toronto primarily to go to the theatre. I saw everything to which I could get tickets. Sometime around the David Tennant tickets, I'll be standing in line in the West End to buy tickets for as many shows as I can manage, given my budget and time frame.

I'm afraid that, just like everything else the average person is expected to bail out, the arts needs our help, too. I can't blame NTL completely for choosing to hype a blockbuster, because I'm grateful I could see Frankenstein. I admit I fly to another country to see the big names I'll otherwise never be able to see live in performance. I love my afternoons spent with matinee movies at the local cinema. I'll support them all, as much as I can. That apparently is what we have to do--vote with our money, if we can spare it--if we're going to have truly daring, breathtaking, controversial art in our future.

If the small theatres and regional companies--and their training programs and experimental workshops and local showcases--are killed off, we won't have the same quality of big names or venues for inspirational art.

I'm not sure how to respond to Kate Abnett; her article, as you can see, certainly got me thinking this morning. I don't have an answer, but I don't want to limit my viewing options to one thing or another. I want it all. Maybe we should start having some discussions about how, on a personal level, we can collaborate to make that happen.

I'm interested in your comments about the Abnett article and cinecasting. We seem to be at yet another technological crossroads concerning the arts. Where do you think we should go, and how should we get there?

Remembering Sarah Jane

Sometimes an actor or a character catches your attention--and you can't look away. You may never get the chance to say "thank you, you influenced me in an unexpected way"--but you hope that somehow that thought is received and understood. Tonight I suspect many Doctor Who fans feel this way when they learn of the death of Elisabeth Sladen, best known in the Whoniverse as Sarah Jane Smith.

Funny how one person's performance can create a community among such disparate people. Tonight I have read moving tributes recorded or posted by those who knew the actress well and those who only knew of her. I first learned of Sladen's death when I browsed my Facebook friends' posts tonight. Of course, I was saddened, but then I felt a remarkable sense of comraderie with mourners around the world. In my list of FB friends alone, I read messages from people who worked with Sladen or had friends or family who knew her, fans like me who had never met her but felt a profound connection with Sarah Jane, or new fans of the Sarah Jane Adventures. I read memories shared from people in Wales, England, New Zealand, and all across the U.S.

How wonderful for one person to have touched so many lives!

I first met Sarah Jane in the early 1980s via reruns on a Northwest Ohio PBS channel. A friend's child was a Doctor Who fan and coerced me into watching the Fourth Doctor's adventures. Tom Baker became my Doctor, but I bonded with Sarah Jane. As a writer in my twenties, I may have lacked the journalistic credentials of Sarah Jane (my brother became the journalist in the family), but I latched on to her inquisitive nature and common sense in the face of danger. I fell in love all over again nearly a quarter century later during "School Reunion." Like Sarah Jane, I had made some compromises in the intervening years and had ended up doing well for myself--but, if I had been asked in my 20s, I was not quite where I expected to be. Then, with The Sarah Jane Adventures, once more Sarah Jane gave a middle-aged woman hope that she could still make a difference in a world of younger adventurers and have a family to boot.

Ironically, the news of Sladen's death came to me as I am about to participate in a Popular Culture Association conference in which there's a special section about Doctor Who and Torchwood. I suspect the conversations this week will more than once turn to Elisabeth Sladen and Sarah Jane Smith. As we huddle together around a television on Saturday night to watch the Eleventh Doctor visit the U.S., I imagine we'll be thrilled with the start of yet more new stories, but we'll also reminisce about the past.

People who don't understand science fiction, or fantasy, or the power of Story, for that matter, may scoff that "it's just a television series." But those of us who find a character who touches our lives and makes our daily struggles understandable and, better yet, meaningful know how important a good story and empowered characters can be. We know that Story outlives us and can make a difference in the way people think and act.

Elisabeth Sladen was part of a powerful Story, one that survives her through us and, I hope, our children. She will be missed. But she and Sarah Jane will not be forgotten.