THE STORY – On the set of an adaptation of “Medea” in West Africa, the film’s two main actors fall in love with each other. When the movie premieres in Berlin, Maja defends her on-screen partner Nourou, who is the victim of an abuse of authority by a security guard. Tensions rise as everyone tries to do the right thing. While the ancient tragedy plays out on screen, a contemporary drama unfolds.
THE CAST – Jean-Christophe Folly, Maren Eggert, Nathalie Richard & Anna Diakhere Thiandoum
THE TEAM – Ulrich Köhler (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 91 Minutes
There is a famous song from the musical “Hamilton” that asks, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?” That question of who has the right to tell certain stories lies at the heart of debates about cultural appropriation, where issues of race, gender, and class intersect. It is also the central concern of “Gavagai,” a meta-cinematic new drama from writer-director Ulrich Köhler.
The film opens in Senegal, where a volatile French director, Caroline (Nathalie Richard), is shooting a radical reimagining of Euripides’ “Medea.” In her version, the title character, infamous for killing her children in revenge against her husband, is recast as a white refugee oppressed by the Black ruling class. On camera, the production looks polished, but behind the scenes, it is a disaster. Props malfunction, costumers resort to dressing mannequins in life jackets, and background actors protest loudly for equal treatment. Caroline’s temper only makes matters worse, and amid the chaos, the two stars — Maja (Maren Eggert), who plays Medea, and Nourou (Jean-Christophe Folly), her Jason — find comfort in each other and begin a secret affair.
Just as it seems we are settling into a backstage satire in the style of “Day for Night,” Köhler shifts the story forward by several months to the Berlin premiere of “Medea.” Nourou arrives eager to resume his relationship with Maja, but life has grown complicated. She now has a husband and child in Berlin, leaving her torn between her marriage and her lover. Nourou, meanwhile, faces racism firsthand, including an ugly encounter with a security guard at his luxury hotel.
The situation only escalates when the film makes its festival debut. At a press conference, journalists press Caroline on whether she, as a white Frenchwoman, has the right to retell an African story. By portraying Black characters as oppressors, is she not erasing or diminishing the historical violence that European colonizers inflicted on Africa? Cornered by these questions, Caroline flounders and looks to Nourou for support, but his ability to defend her is limited.
These moments are where “Gavagai” is at its most incisive. Köhler draws sharp contrasts between the characters the actors play on screen and the lives they lead outside the film. Maja may embody a victimized refugee in “Medea,” yet in Berlin she slips into the role of a “white savior” when intervening on Nourou’s behalf. Nourou, heroic in the film as Jason, is reduced to a second-class citizen in his daily life. Even Caroline, who champions inclusivity in her script, behaves like a tyrant on set.
Where “Gavagai” falters is in its final act. Much of the story builds toward the premiere, yet the anticipated convergence of plotlines never fully arrives. Nourou confronts the racist guard, but after a heated exchange the thread is abruptly abandoned. His relationship with Maja receives little closure, and the larger questions about cultural appropriation remain unresolved. Instead, Köhler lets the fictional “Medea” play out on screen, suggesting that the answers might be found in art. The result, however, feels unfinished, leaving the audience with more questions than conclusions.
Even so, the themes raised by “Gavagai” are rich and provocative. By linking contemporary struggles over race and class to the dilemmas at the core of Euripides’ tragedy, Köhler underscores how persistent these conflicts have been throughout human history. The solutions remain as elusive today as they were in the ancient world, but the act of wrestling with them still feels urgent.
