THE STORY – Plantation physician Afonso is assigned to treat enslaved servants with fatal homesickness, Banzo, on an African island. Despite medical efforts, he struggles to heal their spirits on the isolated hill, confronting an existential challenge.
THE CAST – Carloto Cotta, Hoji Fortuna & Rúben Simões
THE TEAM – Margarida Cardoso (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 127 Minutes
In the United States, the history of slavery is deeply embedded within the historical narrative of the country’s foundation. Even though many have sought to alter and erase that history, the specter of such a dark moment reverberates through much of the culture. It’s a sin that may not have been fully atoned for, but few are unaware of the significant role it plays in the American story.
Like many aspects of such history, there is a tendency to narrowly focus on our own culpability and involvement, excluding how different parts of the world were also affected by similar seismic events. The horrors of slavery, and colonialism by extension, were not exclusive to a single nation. “Banzo” turns that attention to another section of the globe that also found itself reeling from the exposure of such oppressive tactics. Through somber mediations, it examines an environment that reveled in the subjugation of a people who never abandoned their personal advocacy for freedom. It is often a tedious experience, but also one that can reach profound introspection in such still waters.
Set in 1907, the story takes place on the small African island of Principe. One of the large plantations here is facing a hardship, as many workers have suddenly contracted a mysterious illness. They have fallen victim to severe cases of anemia, refusing to eat to the point where their bodies become frail, and death soon follows. The film’s namesake is what this disease has been called, though no one can really understand the exact medical cause or remedy. That is why Dr. Alfonso Paiva (Carloto Cotta) has been sent to the island, in an effort to determine the root of this strange melancholy and cure those afflicted with it.
As he talks with the plantation’s workers, they express the desire to leave such forced employment and return to their native homeland. For Paiva, it is a simple request that must be fulfilled. For those with financial investments, it is an impossibility. However, the more people become stricken with this illness, the more apparent the scars from decades of oppression come to light. Exposing such evils is not just a mission for this doctor: it is necessary to enlighten all those who willfully shield themselves from a dark past, and the stark damage wrought by such actions must be brought to light.
There’s a dichotomy that director Margarida Cardoso establishes within this setting. The landscape has a deep tranquility, a stillness in the imagery that luxuriates in the quiet intimacy between these characters, who exist in empty spaces that keep them emotionally distant. Her compositions are controlled but always intriguing. The simple act of a body being carried is much more impactful as its still profile remains motionless as the background glides past. Every room feels carefully detailed, as people come to express their emotions while being striking figures within the frame. It speaks to the clash of so-called civilized manners being used to justify the continuation of a deep trauma. Those forced into this labor desperately yearn to return home, aching in devastating silence.
Cardoso’s filmmaking crafts an expansive world that is also constrained in its emotions, wrestling with a power structure that chooses to turn a blind eye to the atrocities it tacitly endorses. Occasionally, the presentation isn’t as appealing, with many nighttime outdoor sequences having a lower-quality sheen, as if to capture the lack of light in such settings. But the imagery remains striking overall.
Thematically, the film has a rich tapestry to work with. Yet, that same attention is not paid to its mostly flat characters. It is a story that hinges on more thematic commentary than introspective character study, a decision that can often make the languid pacing feel intolerable to endure. Even when several new faces are introduced, they are presented more as intriguing concepts than fleshed-out personalities. Alphonse is a photographer that Paiva wants to document the plantation, hoping that capturing such conditions will force more attention and help those suffering. His presence, as documented, establishes a compelling idea. It can hide away such troubles by dressing up these individuals in fancy clothing and forced smiles, but it can also expose the rot that has been festering. The notion is fascinating, but Alphonse, as a character, doesn’t have much to motivate him beyond it. It’s what is most frustrating about the storytelling. Despite the engaging conceits, the vessels used to express them, mainly the characters, remain obtuse.
Even if the roles themselves leave much to be desired, the performances can display an engrossing aura. Cotta is meant to be an intentionally reserved figure, calculating his every move as a medical professional in an arena filled with those who dismiss his concerns out of apathy or personal financial stakes. There’s a sheen of white saviorism that can be cast his way, but Cotta taps into a meekness that also defines this man as resistant to becoming a full abolitionist. It creates layers, subtle as they may be.
The same can be said of Hoji Fortuna as the photographer, though the writing’s limited appeal also constrains him. The most impressive portrayal belongs to Ruben Simões, who plays a tortured accountant who bears witness to the horror and feels conflicted about his own standing. With his father born on the island, his dual allegiances cause an inner turmoil that flashes on his face in every scene. It’s an internalized ache that tries mightily to fight upstream against the current of hate he’s forced to witness. Simões is quite impressive and delivers a subtly intense and endearing performance.
What is most admirable about “Banzo” is its steely dedication to peering back into a turbulent moment in history. It approaches this material with a steadfast resolve that never indulges in histrionics, despite the potential of this material for such indulgence. The direction has a controlled sense about it, slowly guiding one into a clashing atmosphere of raging anguish that is forced to boil under the surface. It’s presented with a captivating sense, even though it comes at the expense of a sluggish momentum that struggles to keep one fully invested. The actors play their parts effectively but serve roles that lack the complexity of the central narrative, which leads to disappointment. At its core, the film is highly compelling, even though it strains to make its restrained tone entirely alluring.
