Mory (Magaye Niang) is a young man living in rural Senegal, where he is known widely throughout the village for a few key qualities: his motorcycle adorned with a cow skull, his casual disregard for authority and his ambitions to get out of Senegal and make a life for himself elsewhere, leaving behind a relatively successful but menial career as a cattle herder. Also in the village is Anta (Mareme Niang), a young woman and university student who is crushed by the weight of the Leftist rhetoric that forms the basis of much of the academic discourse. She soon strikes up a friendship with the rebellious Mory (implied to be a romantic relationship, although it is never explicitly depicted), mainly because they both share the desire to escape from their village. They are soon plotting an elaborate plan to get out of the country and move to Paris, where they hope to lead prosperous lives that are more aligned with their enormous ambitions. However, they soon discover it isn’t particularly easy, but the difficulties that come with the process don’t do anything to deter them, as they continue on the journey towards self-actualization continues.

African films are rarely ever mentioned in the same breath as other works of great world cinema, which is normally dominated by European and Asian films. An entire continent has seemingly been ignored, and not found its place in the artistic zeitgeist, particularly in terms of the films that have been made since the inception of the African film industry in the 1920s, when audacious filmmakers from across the continent worked to represent their respective nations in their own way. One of the few African films that is often cited as being a worthwhile addition to the canon of great foreign-language films is Touki Bouki, the neo-realist comedy hailing from masterful Senegalese auteur Djibril Diop Mambéty, which has come to be seen as one of the definitive African masterpieces, in no small part due to Martin Scorsese’s passion for the film, and subsequent inclusion of it in his World Cinema Foundation Project. A film just about as defiant to the nature of art as the political and social climate from its native country was at the time of its release, Touki Bouki represents a considerable piece of African storytelling that may be jarring, especially to those of us expecting something more along the lines of traditional Western filmmaking, but it is a work of outwardly exuberant genius, one that flourishes on its simplicity and makes incredible use of monetary constraints in the development of a film that stands as a steadfast example of African artistry in its finest form.

Despite being a remarkably simple and lucid film, Touki Bouki is quite a layered film, and there is quite a bit to unpack throughout. It is important that we situate this to a particular time and look at what was occurring around it, as would be the case with absolutely every work of art produced in Africa, especially during this period. The postcolonial era was one that impacted every sphere of existence in the continent, including the art, whereby the “empire wrote back”, to quote a common adage used by several theorists when looking at postcolonial literature produced in Africa around this time. Mambéty, in making Touki Bouki, is crafting an avant-garde masterpiece that takes a discerning but loving glimpse at contemporary Africa at the time, without venturing into the realm of heavy social or political commentary. Through the director’s unique brand of playful anarchy, he manages to create something memorable that offers an authentic snapshot of life in Senegal at the time, one that is effective and entirely honest, without being miserable or heavy-handed. There is a very sweet sentimentality underlying this film, and even when it is at its most acidic, it still manages to find optimism in a bleak situation.

Structurally, Touki Bouki is effective all on its own and is often innovative to the point where it may be bewildering to viewers not accustomed to unconventional narrative techniques. Rather than focusing on a single plot that flows coherently, Mambéty instead builds this film as a series of episodic moments that work towards forming a full narrative. This is all clearly due to the director’s intention of representing life in the Senegalese villages he was so accustomed to, and giving outside audiences a glimpse into everyday life. Composed of fragments that may take a while to make sense, but are otherwise rewarding, because Mambéty understands that life is not one long stream-of-consciousness, but a series of smaller moments that all make up a complete, rich tapestry of life. There is an underlying plot, but its often overtaken by the smaller moments that are only marginally related to the central storyline. The moments in between the plot are what give Touki Bouki its brilliance, and enriches an already passionate, fascinating experience.

The spirit of Jean-Luc Godard and the rest of the Nouvelle Vague looms heavily over this film, which looks at the experience of alienation that comes with existing in a society in which someone doesn’t quite belong. The main character of Mory represents the archetypal protagonist in these kinds of stories – far more intelligent than he is given credit for, and possessing a certain worldly resourcefulness, he goes on a physical and spiritual journey that he hopes will take him out of his uncomfortable social position. Much like some the other characters, Mory is always in the process of running away – whether from a wild animal, a disgruntled villager or from himself and the threat of becoming a part of the system that he has never felt connected to, he is retreating at a rapid rate. Yet, he is also shown to be unsure – the climax of this film, which sees Mory, just about to board a boat that will take him and his friend to France turns around and retreats back to the village, following the bellows of one of the bulls he nurtured. Touki Bouki makes the powerful statement that no matter how much we yearn for change, there will always be some element of our existence that will prevent us from ever fully leaving. Traditions are difficult to leave behind, despite how easy abandoning them at the expense of a better life would seem.

There is a great sense of sarcasm underlying Touki Bouki, which takes the form of a postcolonial satire more than anything else, which is the only adequate approach for a film that conveys this specific message, which serves to be a commentary on the ambivalence of the postcolonial mindset, and the role of the ordinary citizen during a period of social and political upheaval. A certain form of absurdist humour exists throughout the film, which is central to the intention to expose the hypocrisy and instability of a nation undergoing change – there’s a moment in the film when one of the protagonist’s aunts, who once derided him for his laziness as a poor cowherd, celebrates his success with an exuberant song and dance routine when he returns under the guise of apparently achieving prosperity. It is a very funny moment, but one that also has bleak underpinnings, as this was a reality during the era.

Postcolonial satire is a layered genre, and it often has to look at varying levels of society – the colonial project and the chaos it wrought, the bureaucracy as it tries to adjust to independence, and most importantly, to the everyday people who find themselves impacted by every decision, both past and present. Power forms the core of a lot of these kinds of satire, and Mambéty seems to not only understand this, but also is clearly able to deconstruct it to the point where the power doesn’t rest within the corrupt government or the omnipotent spectre of the colonialists, but in the blistered hands of a young man disillusioned with a society that is apparently on the way to rebuilding itself. By the time Touki Bouki was made, Senegal had only had their independence for little over a decade, and the traces of imperialism are very clear, especially in a third-act sequence that sees a few white tourists giving running commentary on the state of Africa from their perspective.

Yet, in spite of all the heavy subject matter, Touki Bouki is unquestionably a very entertaining film, an inventive piece of satire that looks at a very grim subject without taking itself too seriously. A West African underclass odyssey with an unconventionally upbeat disposition, finding a resonant rhythm in its exploration of postcolonial Africa. Almost a spiritual successor to Easy Rider, both in the narrative sense and in terms of the themes of recklessness, defiance and the search for meaning, there’s a lot that can be discussed about this film. Beneath the exuberance, there is a melancholy sense of nostalgia and despair, as we follow a pair of young people yearning for a better life, yet being unable to let go of the traditions that formed them. Mambéty is certainly not attempting to evoke sympathy, but rather to represent life in rural Senegal in an objective, truthful way – sometimes it is positive, other times negative, yet it always appears entirely authentic, without a false note occurring anywhere in the film. It is daring and revolutionary, both thematically and in how the director manages to venture into the core of social matters, exposing them in a way that is often hilarious but thought-provoking. An easygoing, funny and heartfelt experimental masterwork, Touki Bouki is one of the primary indicators that Africa has some truly astonishing artistic potential when it comes to cinema, which should be celebrated and revered far more than it has in the past – after all, it’s never too late to start appreciating it now.