While it has been unfortunately under-represented on the global stage, African cinema has produced several truly incredible artists who left a legacy that many younger generations continue to chase, not only in terms of films produced on the continent but also their artistic ingenuity and bespoke approach to the narrative process. There is a valid argument to be made that Ousmane Sembène stands as perhaps Africa’s greatest filmmaker, both for his body of work and the legions of artists he inspired over the years. One of his crowning achievements is Mandabi, which is also one of his earliest films, made just after his breakthrough with the incredibly important Black Girl, widely considered one of the greatest films to ever be produced in Africa. He shifts gears with this film, moving away from dense, overly-dramatic neo-realism and instead tackling something much broader and layered heavily with humour, becoming a pioneer of African comedy at a time when the genre was still developing. The film tells the simple story of an ordinary man who is eager to rise out of the poverty in which he lives without actually putting in any real effort, and almost as if by divine intervention, he receives a money order from a relative living in Paris – suddenly, our protagonist sees a way out of the lower-class, but he discovers that it is not as easy as he thought to have these funds in his possession, since he is soon forced to reckon with the intimidating entity that is postcolonial bureaucracy, which is as impossible to navigate as it is difficult to comprehend, leading to a series of increasingly bizarre misadventures that somehow causes him to drift even further from his goal than he was at the outset. A hilarious and affectionate satire that contains some incredibly sharp socio-cultural jabs that are genuinely quite provocative, Mandabi is a masterpiece of African cinema, and one of the director’s most important films, primarily for its unique worldview and fascinating approach to some themes that oscillate between widely resonant and delightfully niche, all combining to create a film that presents quite a daring portrait of Africa at a particular moment in its storied, indescribably complex past.

A quality of these canonical African masters, of which Sembène is one of the most prominent, is the blend of traditional and unorthodox elements. These were artists essentially tasked with not only standing out in comparison to filmmakers from other continents, which certainly had a major headstart in terms of resources and recognition but doing so in a way that provided a thorough glimpse into their culture. Mandabi is recognized as a vitally important film since it achieves both exceptionally well, and the nuances that the director brings to this film can never be understated. While one may think that comedy is a tricky genre to use when exploring a new culture and its artistic output, it proves to be a good barometer, since there is something remarkable about a filmmaker that can evoke laughter amongst audiences that are both from an entirely different generation and hail from cultures distant from the one they are representing, which is the sign of a truly extraordinary filmmaker and one that aims to make some bold assertions in the process. One doesn’t need a working knowledge of postcolonial Senegalese politics and social structure to find Mandabi to be extremely entertaining, primarily because Sembène has a very distinct directorial style, merging traditional African concepts with a slightly Western approach, one that isn’t entirely prominent to the point where it becomes definitive of the film’s identity, but rather bolsters its underlying cultural specificity in a way that is widely accessible. Seemingly inspired by the works of Franz Kafka, particularly in terms of how he views the labyrinthine nature of African bureaucracy (which anyone living somewhere on the continent will assure you is not at all for the faint of heart), the director weaves a hilarious and irreverent fable about the roots of avarice and how the desperation to become wealthy can have the opposite effect if one isn’t entirely aware of the perils that come with blind greed when coupled with unimpeachable pride.

One of the most captivating aspects of Mandabi is that this is a film that is fully in command of its underlying themes, and it spends quite a bit of time exploring the culture in which it exists, which provides invaluable insights into the day-to-day lives of ordinary people, here represented in the form of the character of Ibrahima Dieng, who acts as something of a figurehead for the kind of commonplace individual to which the director seemed to be extremely interested in exploring. His films are rarely about people who hold any position of power or importance (even in a film like Xala, which centres on a politician, the focus is less on his official titles and more on domestic life, which is why that is one of the greatest comedies ever produced in Africa, and one that draws a lot of inspiration from the present film), and instead he wants to look at people who are challenged to simply exist in a time and place when it was not particularly easy. Much of the humour in Mandabi is formed from the director’s fascination with capturing the essence of what it means to be African, but in a slightly self-deprecating manner (as this is a comedy, and a good work of humour has a sense of self-awareness and the willingness to poke fun at itself), but still very respectful. We find that Sembène approaches these ideas by focusing on a single character whose inane antics are representative of his outward stupidity, and where everyone around him is one step ahead, or at least far more experienced in the way of the world than him, which leads to a hilarious series of misunderstandings between our lovable protagonist and the system to which he is waging war. Credit has to go to Makhourédia Guèye for his incredible performance – hilarious and heartfelt in equal measure, he truly finds a kindred spirit in the director, who crafts the entire film around his fantastic work that essentially defines not only this film but the broader set of works that came about as a result of this revolutionary piece of cinema that offers an oddly compassionate and thorough glimpse into Africa cinema.

Whether one sees it as an obstacle or a vitally important component, it is extremely difficult to find a work of African fiction, whether written or filmed, produced at some point in the 20th century that does not feel haunted by the lingering spectre of imperialism. One of the only positive aspects of the colonial project (if we can even refer to it in vaguely upbeat terms) is that it inspired decades of incredible artists to transfer their fury and confusion into meaningful works, which continue to inspire generations of individuals. Mandabi is a very funny film, but this is in addition to its underlying commentary, rather than despite it since Sembène understood that comedy is a powerful narrative tool, and he uses his deep knowledge of politics and social structure to craft an intelligent, witty satire that is as hilarious as it is incredibly sharp. The director constantly had a firm grasp on the cultural consciousness, and his perspective was not only fresh and exciting, it was genuinely radical. In much the same way that watching a Jean-Luc Godard or William Klein film while they were at their peak, we feel like we’re witnessing an artist crafting a narrative in real time, drawing on recent discourse and integrating it into the narrative in a way that is borderline revolutionary. Senegal had only gained independence from France eight years prior, so the wounds of colonialism were still quite fresh, The decides to reconfigure his anger into humour was such a daring choice on the part of Sembène, whose vision is very clear from the earliest moments of the film. It’s a term that is used whenever postcolonial literature is discussed, but it adheres to Salman Rushdie’s oft-quoted theory known as “the empire writes back” – throughout this film, Sembène is speaking directly to the French colonialists that controlled Senegal for decades, addressing them in an attempt to provide his harsh but necessary account of their broken promises, the Senegalese independence being an ongoing attempt to rid the country of its imperial past, but still finding that there were certain aspects – such as the unnavigable bureaucracy – the remained a permanent fixture in the social system. He looks at it with equal ire and admiration, since his fervent belief in the strength of the Senegalese spirit meant that he knew, beyond any doubt, that what he was showing was a rapidly changing system that would only get stronger the closer it got to the true roots of what it meant to be African.

Mandabi proves to be a fascinating reflection on African politics at a time when it was undergoing significant change, and the director’s refreshing and honest vision is perfectly encapsulated in every frame, which suggests that there is always something deeper lingering beneath the surface. Equally a stark, bold commentary on African socio-cultural structure in the aftermath of independence as it is a wonderfully quaint morality tale that uses humour as the source of many exquisite conversations that range from delightfully trivial to genuinely quite bold in terms of their political and philosophical connotations. Inspired by many previous artists who dared to explore such bold subjects in a manner that was daring and genuinely inspirational, Sembène creates one of the most important films to ever be produced in Africa, not only for its brilliant storyline, which merges humour and history to create a multifaceted portrait of a country rapidly changing as it grows into its newfound independence but also in the form it takes, with the mile-a-minute pacing and exceptionally beautiful design (the garment that the protagonist wears has become an iconic piece of African cinema, instantly recognizable to the director’s oeuvre) creating such a beautifully poignant, captivating film that knows precisely how to temper tone and register to have a much more interesting result. He is not afraid to mock the system, since he makes it very clear that what he is satirizing is not the indelible strength of the African spirit or the people who populate the communities he represents throughout the film, but rather those who uphold the final vestiges of the colonial system, the strict and draconian nature of bureaucracy being the final lingering aftershock of imperial rule that is undeniably difficult to escape, but which can easily be overcome with the right approach. It’s quite a bleak film, and one that does end on a slightly more downbeat note (although we can argue that the protagonist got exactly what he deserved), but it speaks to a wider discussion that has been ongoing over the decades, emerging in nearly every piece of African literature, music and cinema in some way or another. This film helped pioneer a movement towards a new kind of postcolonial artistry, and whether we want to fixate on its outrageous comedic qualities or seek ways to unearth the secrets hidden beneath the surface, it is undeniably a brilliant and truly inventive film and one of the most remarkably complex works to ever come from the region.