Faya Dayi
August in Africa II
Way back in August of 2022, Movie Night dedicated the month to films from the African continent. While reading through interviews with different filmmakers for this year’s August in Africa and stumbling down various rabbit holes, I ran across a quote (reported by Eric Kohn at IndieWire back in 2019) from M. Night Shyamalan speaking to film students at NYU that struck a chord:
“What do you want to be?” Shyamalan asked. “Writer? Director?”
“Director,” the student said. “But that’s really hard to accomplish.”
Shyamalan shot back with a heated response. “Dude, I don’t like the way you talk, bro,” he said. “How can you tell me that it’s going to be hard? Do you see a lot of people like you writing stories? Give me a break, bro. That’s your strength, that you’re not like us. Go out there and tell your stories. Don’t go out there and try to be like Quentin or me or anybody else. We need you. Tell me what makes you angry, why you’re arrogant, or fearful, whatever it is. Don’t hide anything. Be honest. What is that thing that bothers you and makes you distinct? Everyone’s looking for you. A Mexican point of view to tell a story right now? I’m telling you, everybody wants that right now.”
What a perfect lead-in to a month dedicated to a vibrant continent whose stories are underrepresented in countries like the US. Seeking out perspectives from far afield has never been easier than in the age of the internet; Let’s seek some out!
Faya Dayi
An opening sequence, filmed in stunning black and white that somehow stays in my memory in blues and greens, shows a shallow still river at night. A figure (is it a figure?) seems to approach from a great distance. Barely moving for close to 30 seconds, it begins to move faster and grow larger, until we see someone running, jumping, and playing down the river. Before you know it they’re gone.
Faya Dayi (2021) is a transcendental film about going home, connecting with community, and connecting with one’s self. It is a hypnotic journey into the heart of Ethiopia's khat culture, a world steeped in tradition, spirituality, and the bittersweet, morally gray, allure of the stimulant leaf. I read an interview by Avanish Chandrasekaran with Director Jessica Beshir in the September ‘22 issue of Sight and Sound in which she mentioned some of her various influences: Andrei Tarkosvsky, Sergei Parajanov, Djipbril Diop Mambéty, Kiarostami, Tarr: upon conclusion of the short piece I knew immediately that I must seek this director’s film out. Beshir, who is Mexican-Ethiopian, grew up in Mexico City, had this to say about her cinematic upbringing:
I lived in Mexico City during the late 80s and early 90s, and would take the metro to the Cineteca Nacional. What I remember about its design is how it made me feel. Just like a church. It was calm. And it was a spiritual space where I could truly have a beautiful conversation with myself. The films I saw there encouraged those conversations. The curation attracted me, as it offered something outside the main-stream, commercial palette.
Not unlike her influences, Beshir weaves a tapestry of images and sounds that transport us to the highlands of Harar, where the cultivation and consumption of khat shape the rhythm of daily life. Through a series of vignettes, we encounter a cast of characters whose lives are intertwined with khat. There's the young boy who dreams of escaping the monotony of his village and the pressures of civil unrest just beyond the city walls. The elderly woman who finds solace in her daily khat ritual. And the khat farmers who toil tirelessly in the fields. Their stories unfold against a backdrop of breathtaking landscapes, where mist-shrouded mountains and verdant valleys create an ethereal atmosphere. It is that rare form of cinema that becomes more scarce every year. It is slow cinema at its finest.
You might feel like you’re watching a movie that will be cited by a director in the year 2064 for its stunningly modern style, not unlike George Lucas tying his work directly to Kurosawa. Like the great transcendental films, this is one that soaks you in the contemplative aesthetics of boredom and then rewards you for paying attention. In one early scene of the film, smoke is blowing through a doorway. As I settled into the deep relaxation only a slow film can bring out, I gazed at the smoke on the screen almost lazily when it suddenly and inexplicably began to run like water around the outline of a human eye, watching me back.
Faya Dayi
Written and Directed by Jessica Beshir
2021
120 minutes
Oromo, Harari, and Amharic
Recommended way to watch (at time of publication): Streaming on the Criterion Channel
You’ll like this if you like: Stalker (1979), Touki Bouki (1973), or Taste of Cherry (1997)