Hyenas
Set in the Senegalese city of Colobane, a town that you could say has lost its splendor, Hyenas (Hyènes, 1992) adapts Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s play The Visit, transporting a European tale of revenge and morality to the heart of post-colonial Africa. Director Djibril Diop Mambéty reimagines this story with an African sensibility, critiquing the corrosive influence of wealth, neocolonialism, and the fragility of societal values when confronted with money. Mambéty made two feature-length films in his life: This and Touki Bouki (1973). Almost twenty years apart, both films are masterpieces, but for my money, Hyenas is Mambéty’s finest work. It is drenched in rich color, perfectly cast, and deeply resonant for anyone wanting money, revenge, justice, or some combination of the three! (Though you might not feel good about it by the end.)
The once-thriving community of Colobane is now languishing in poverty. The town's fortunes seem to change when Linguère Ramatou (Ami Diakhate), a former resident, returns after years away, now one of the wealthiest women in the world. Her wealth is evident in her arrival, decked in gold jewelry and traveling with an intriguingly diverse entourage. But Linguère’s return is not a simple homecoming—she brings with her a demand: the villagers must kill Dramaan Drameh (Mansour Diouf), the man who betrayed her decades earlier, in exchange for untold riches.
The setup is straightforward, but the moral complexities quickly become apparent. Linguère is not only seeking vengeance; she is forcing the village to confront their values. Dramaan, once the town’s golden boy, got Linguère pregnant in her youth and abandoned her. The town sided with him back then, driving Linguère away in disgrace. Now, years later, her revenge is meticulously planned, offering the villagers money to do what they once did for free: sacrifice their morals for personal gain. I found myself wondering what the modern American equivalent of this story might be…
The beauty of Hyenas lies in its slow and deliberate unraveling of the village's character. At first, the townspeople are horrified by Linguère’s proposal. Dramaan is respected, even beloved, and to kill him seems unthinkable. But as Linguère’s wealth becomes more tangible—via a trickle of gifts that seem to indicate not only future individual riches but the salvation of the entire town—their moral objections begin to waver. Mambéty shows how even the idea of money in the future erodes integrity, turning principled people into complicit actors in this grim tale. AKA assholes.
Mambéty uses the setting of Colobane to maximize the stark contrast between the impoverished present and the promise of a wealth-driven future. The dusty, barren landscapes and crumbling infrastructure symbolize not just the town’s physical poverty, but the spiritual emptiness that creeps in as the villagers begin to contemplate the unthinkable. The cinematography underscores this shift with increasing vibrancy in colors, as the town imagines its future wealth, only for the gold hues to feel more like a sickly taint than a beacon of hope.
Linguère herself is a magnetic and terrifying figure. Ami Diakhate’s performance gives her a regal, almost mythical quality. She is more than a woman seeking revenge; she is an avenging force, a manifestation of the wronged and forgotten. You cannot watch the film and not sympathize. Her transformation from the young, vulnerable girl exiled from the village to the influential, wealthy figure she is now is the dark beating heart of the film: the cyclical nature of power, revenge, and the corrupting influence of money.
Dramaan’s journey is equally compelling. He begins the film confidently, assured of his place in the town’s history and the affection of his fellow villagers. As the town’s loyalties shift, we see him grappling with the consequences of his past actions. Mambéty doesn’t shy away from making Dramaan a deeply flawed character, but he also humanizes him, ensuring that the audience feels the weight of the town’s betrayal.
It will never not amaze me. Mambéty made two films, twenty years apart, and they’re both great. This film’s structure is deceptively simple, but each scene carries the weight of impending doom, with dialogue that grows increasingly pointed as the townspeople’s resistance fades. The camera lingers on moments of hesitation, capturing the slow decay of moral conviction. The score deepens our connection to the feelings of any character in a given moment.
One of the most fascinating elements of Hyenas is how it explores the idea of neocolonialism. The wealth that Linguère offers is not just money—it’s a symbol of the Western capitalism that continues to dominate African nations. In one scene, we observe a relatively recognizable Western carnival. Villagers ride rides, play carnival games, and eat junk food. The villagers’ desire for wealth reflects the growing internalized belief that salvation must come from outside, from systems of power that have long exploited them. Mambéty's message is clear: accepting this wealth comes at a cost, ultimately leading to moral and social decay. To depend on external factors that are always out of your control for happiness means opening oneself up to misery.
Hyenas
Written and Directed by Djibril Diop Mambéty
1992
110 minutes
Wolof
Recommended way to watch (at time of publication): Streaming on Kanopy
You’ll like this if you like: The Visit (1964), Moolaade (2004), Mandabi (1968)