History was made with the creation of Sambizanga – not only was this one of the pioneering works by a female director working on the African continent, but it was the very first feature film produced by a Lusophone country in Africa, being a shared production between Cape Verde and Angola, the latter being the setting for this poignant and immersive historical drama. Despite being born and raised in France and being of West Indian descent, Sarah Maldoror is often considered one of the pioneers of African cinema, since much of her work was set amongst communities across the continent, and often looked at the plight of the down-trodden, particularly women at a time when gender played a pivotal role in how many of these countries functioned. Sambizanga is set during the Angolan War of Independence of the early 1960s, a violent and brutal conflict between Angolan nationals and Portuguese colonialists that has remained one of the most harrowing moments in African history for over half a century, and an enormously important moment in terms of the fight against imperialism. The film tells the story of a freedom fighter kidnapped by the state, causing his wife to go in search of her husband, moving between towns of various sizes in order to gain answers to these urgent questions, or risk the possibility of having her beloved partner executed at the hands of his captors, who show very little intention for logic or reasoning. The film is a harrowing glimpse into Angola at a very precise moment in its history, looking at the challenges faced by ordinary people, each one of them fighting their own personal battle of independence, hoping to see a brighter future, while trying to simply survive in the process, which amounts to a haunting social and political drama about the inevitability of change.

Looking at any works of literature (whether written or visual) produced in Africa around the time in which Sambizanga was made is always fascinating, since regardless of the specific subject matter, these stories carry the weight of colonialism, often orbiting entirely around an artist’s attempts to describe the circumstances that they witnessed – whether firsthand or through the knowledge of their nation’s history – placing these events into the context of the colonial project that became a factor in nearly every country on the continent, with only a couple (Ethiopia and Liberia) remaining independent from the outset, at least officially. Sambizanga is an enthralling work precisely because it functions as the director’s poignant manifesto on the conditions of people in Angola at a time of great political and social unease, which impacted not only the country itself, but many of those that surrounded it. It may have been set roughly a decade before the film was produced, but the conditions were still unfavourable to mount the production in Angola itself (which is why the director and her crew decided to put the film together in neighbouring countries, particularly in the now-dissolved People’s Republic of the Congo, which had recently gone through its own struggle for independence), which only further emphasizes the absolute urgency with which this film was intended to be made. Maldoror was a very gifted filmmaker, and even at its most unsettling, there is a profound beauty to Sambizanga that cannot be created without the perfect collision of historical context and artistic integrity, which is the foundation of this astonishing and heartbreaking voyage into a very difficult moment in Angola’s past, which remains a very contentious but deeply important part of African history.

Gender is always a fascinating concept when it comes to the artistic exploration of a particular social milieu, since every culture has different customs and traditions, many of which are inextricably linked to the role both men and women play in constituting a particular part of society. Many African cultures have very unique approaches to how women are viewed, especially since there is a preconceived notion that they are built on a foundation of heteronormativity and patriarchal beliefs – obviously this is truly reductive and erases the profound role women play in any given society (as well as inappropriately group the entire continent’s population under one homogenous culture, something that has taken years to be removed from the popular consciousness), but it does form the foundation for many of the intriguing conversations conducted throughout Sambizanga. This is a film about the Angolan fight for liberation, told through the eyes of the people “left behind”, namely the women that watch their partners go off to engage in violent warfare, not knowing whether they will return home or not. The protagonist of Sambizanga is Maria, a young woman who is desperately seeking answers after her husband (one of the leaders of the resistance) is brutally abducted, and the film is told through her perspective as she voyages on this desperate rescue mission, doing whatever she can to be reunited with him, knowing that he is likely not going to return, especially considering how those ingrained in the colonial process tend to be quite liberal when it comes to eliminating those who stand as a threat to them. It’s a unique method of looking at the fight for freedom, showing that some battles are fought on a much smaller and more intimate scale, and Elisa Andrade’s astonishing and heartbreaking performance stands firmly at the heart of the film, taking us on this journey into this dark comedy in Angola’s fight for independence at a time when any kind of revolutionary activity was considered a threat.

As tempting as it may be to venture deeper into exploring the social and cultural importance of this film, we have to look at Sambizanga as not only an important piece of social and political commentary, but also as a film. Maldoror was not only a tremendously intelligent social critic and historian, but a profoundly gifted filmmaker, and her talents are used brilliantly throughout this film, which feels like a true work of art. Despite its subject matter, this film is not interested in being purely academic, and the director collaborates with a small team of gifted artists to bring this story to life. Southern Africa has rarely looked more beautiful than when framed through the director’s lens, and she works closely with cinematographer Claude Agostini (who had been behind the camera on a number of brilliant films over the course of his career) to show the beauty of the continent, portraying the culture in a way that was realistic but still alluring. Ultimately, as much as Sambizanga has a social and political agenda based on its historical context, it is important to view the delivery of that material – and the combination of a strong social commentary (created in collaboration with the director’s husband, Mário Pinto de Andrade, one of the most important figures of the Angolan Liberation Movement) with beautiful, profound artistry makes for a film that implicitly understands how to be effective on both a conceptual and visual level. It often plays like an intimate social realist drama designed to highlight the beauty of Africa in conjunction with exploring the more bleak conditions of those fighting for its freedom. It has many different layers that are all so exceptionally composed, creating a film that is as artistically resonant as it is thought-provoking.

Sambizanga is certainly a powerful and difficult film, but a vitally important work of socially-charged cinema, and remains a watershed moment for African cinema, coming at a time when such stories were more scarce from an African perspective. Arguably, it was the product of a range of different perspectives, and there are detractors that claim that the director’s European heritage (even as a daughter of immigrants) meant she was inherently an outsider looking inward – but this is irrelevant when we consider the extent to which Maldoror demonstrates compassion and an earnest interest in showing the struggles of the Angolan people (particularly women, who stand obscured by the shadows of history when looking at this movement from the mainstream perspective) at a time when their entire existence was being called into question, and where one could easily find themselves suffering under a draconian system that cared more about maintaining power by any means necessary than it did ensuring everyone was treated equally and with dignity. It’s a film filled with brutal imagery and strong emotions, but it never comes across as overwrought or unnecessarily convoluted, making it a work of pure, unhinged fury towards a system that caused too many lives to be lost. Sambizanga is an essential piece of African cinema, and a vital entry into a canon of films that examine the continent and the impact colonialism had on its people, shown in vivid detail that is as disturbing as it is thoroughly essential.