For every city, there is usually at least one filmmaker that is its definitive poet laureate. New York City has Woody Allen, London has Mike Leigh, Tokyo has Yasujirō Ozu, Rome has Federico Fellini – the list goes on ad infinitum, and the act of pairing cities with specific filmmakers is often quite fascinating. Nairobi may not be the easiest one to make a decision on, but I’m willing to go out on a limb and call Wanuri Kahiu the most likely candidate, particularly since her career began (while she was still astonishingly young, making her directorial debut when she was barely an adult), she has been focused on exploring the city of her birth, paying tribute to her hometown with vivid, vibrant celebrations of the Kenyan capital, capturing the unique energy and bright colours that define this iconic corner of Africa. Her most notable film – both in terms of critical acclaim and cultural controversy – is Rafiki, in which she tells the very simple story of two young women attempting to lay a foundation for themselves as independent people, but are forced to stand in the shadow of traditions through their close association with their parents, all of whom are cornerstones of the very conservative society that defines Kenyan culture. The pair encounter one another, and immediately fall in love – but homosexuality is illegal in Kenya, and while they are careful to not cross any boundaries that would get them into legal trouble, they do still struggle to deal with the bigotry and hatred that surrounds them, while also doing what they can to explore their growing romance, most of which occurs far from prying eyes, despite their mutual desire to simply shout their love from the rooftops. A very tender, simple film about love and the extent to which we will go to defend our heart’s desire, Rafiki is a beautiful and heartfelt story that examines the human condition and its various unique qualities that make it so profoundly complex and interesting.

Many of the themes that govern Rafiki are drawn from the director’s attempts to explore Kenyan society and its perception of homosexuality. African cinema in general is extremely underrepresented on the global stage, despite having some of the most prolific film industries in the world – it’s simply a matter of audiences from outside the continent not being willing to engage with these works. However, queer cinema has often been at the forefront of bringing these stories to the attention of viewers around the world, and this film in particular takes a lot of inspiration from similar efforts to combine cultural commentary with universal themes. Queer storytelling has become much more prominent, and while we may still be in the infancy of the era where the LGBTQIA+ community receives the fair representation that they deserve in mainstream media, considerable strides have been made, and Rafiki is a fantastic demonstration of the extent to which a simple narrative can go to support much broader ideas. The concept behind this film was primarily to be a love story between two young women still determining their identity – a lot of it is arguably built on the very traditional view of lesbian relationships, with a more masculine partner being assured of her identity, while the more feminine one finds herself developing complex feelings that go against the socio-cultural grain in which she was raised. Yet, despite taking its cue from some of the more obvious conceptual places, the film does prove to be unexpectedly quite complex in how it handles its ideas, which is done with such elegance and attention to detail, its sometimes difficult to determine where precisely all of these ideas come from, but where we are still very much engaged in how it examines queerness from a distinctly African perspective.

Much of the impact of Rafiki comes from the focus on Nairobi, which grows into its own character, the vibrant energy of the city being captured in every frame of the film. Kahiu is very much focused on creating an image of her hometown that is both a tribute and a detailed glimpse into its history and cultural traditions. A lot of the brilliance lies in the execution – the use of colour is particularly notable, since while she doesn’t over-extend herself to make the city seem more vibrant than it actually is (choosing instead to focus on a more realistic depiction, rather than presenting it as some artificial utopia), and anyone who has ever visited a major African city will undoubtedly be very familiar with this film’s approach to capturing every energetic nuance, particularly in how the city is as much a character as the two primary protagonists, a complex, beautiful entity. It’s far from an attempt to portray Nairobi as a stunning, perfect city – in fact, the small flaws add character, and make up the foundation for many of the film’s most beautiful moments, becoming a living entity in which we are witness to the budding romance between two of its residents. Kahiu has a very keen attention to detail, and her approach to exploring these characters, with this beautiful city as a backdrop, allows for some brilliant aesthetic choices. The combination of the simple but evocative cinematography, coupled with the pulsating score and focus on the smaller, more intricate details, creates quite a memorable cinematic landscape on which the director can build a poignant, compelling story. A film like Rafiki has to make use of as many resources as it can to be effective, since without these components, it would be barely interesting enough to garner any of our attention or affection, growing into quite a compelling examination of the human condition, where the artistry is simple but extremely effective, and adds so much nuance to an already poetic narrative.

Rafiki is a film that does ultimately depend on the audience’s ability to connect with these characters, since as stunning as the filmmaking itself may be, this is still an independent production (Kahiu’s struggles to get the film made are quite disheartening, and worth seeking out the details of how she managed to fund and distribute this film, if only to show her incredible tenacity and wholehearted belief in this film and what it represented), and there is only so much that can be done with limited finances and resources. The two leads are mainly responsible for bringing the story together, and both Samantha Mugatsia and Sheila Munyiva are fantastic as the primary protagonists. The very definition of polar opposites, with the former being a more quiet, reserved tomboy who has always felt more at home with her male friends, while the latter is hyperfeminine to the point where her stark realisation that she may be queer comes as quite a shock, dismantling common perceptions of the lesbian community, and being a clear attempt to underline the importance of looking below the surface. These are quite subtle and nuanced performances, and both leads are extraordinary. However, it’s only through working closely with the director and determining the right emotional inventory that we start to understand the nuances beneath the surface of the film. The tone of the film is kept quite subtle, and Kahiu avoids heavy-handed displays of sentimentality, preferring to keep everything quite subtle and nuanced as far as possible. This makes a big difference, since it shifts the attention away from the more obvious concepts and instead redirects our focus to the ideas that matter the most. The subtle, tender heart of the film is the primary reason we feel such a deep connection to Rafiki, which builds itself on this confident, earnest depiction of a growing romance between two women, avoiding cliche and being as honest and forthright as it could possibly be, given the material with which it is working.

As with any independent production, there are limitations to Rafiki, which is a film in which the intentions far outweigh the shortcomings in terms of its execution. The simplicity of the narrative can be criticised for not being entirely well-equipped to handle some of the more complex ideas – but we’ve moved past the point where every queer narrative has to be definitive, covering the full scope of identity politics, gender roles and social perceptions. Unfortunately, as one of the few mainstream films that deal with homosexuality in Kenya, Rafiki is burdened with the responsibility of being the one (and sadly, seemingly only) work that tackles this subject. Despite this intimidating task, the director seems more than willing to take on the challenge, forming a bold, compelling romantic drama that makes good use of colour and composition to immerse us in the stunning sights of Nairobi, one of the most beautiful cities on the continent, not only in terms of the architecture, but the people and their culture. It’s a simple film, but one with an immense amount of heart and soul, and every decision made by the director is intricate, well-defined and utterly beautiful. A stunningly simple but profoundly moving romantic drama about identity and the importance of being true to yourself, Rafiki is an essential film, and one of the most promising signs that we are moving forward as a society, where such stories can be openly told and seen, signaling a major shift in perception, and a movement towards a more open, compassionate society.