On the record

Bringing Africa to New York City, one film at a time

Chelsea Now photo by David Gibbons
Mahen Bonetti, executive director of the New York African Film Festival

By David Gibbons

Mahen Bonetti is a one-woman juggernaut for the finest films of her native continent and, by extension, an impassioned ambassador for its art and culture. She arrived here from Sierra Leone as a young teenaged political refugee in the late 1960s; her uncles—Milton and Albert Margai—were her country’s first two presidents after independence in 1961. Shortly thereafter, this beautiful country in West Africa was devastated by a series of military coups and a 10-year civil war, punctuated by marauding bands of machete-wielding youths who hacked thousands of people to death and left thousands more limbless.

Meanwhile, Bonetti was completing her education in America. In the mid-1980s, she found herself in the midst of a vibrant Manhattan art, music and nightlife scene, wondering how she could spread a bit of all that was good and uplifting from her heritage in the face of the stark, disturbing images that dominated Western media coverage. In 1990, she founded the New York African Film Festival. This year, the AFF celebrates 50 years of independence in African cinema. Also—not coincidentally—Africa itself celebrates the 50th anniversary of its emergence from colonialism; Ghana became the first African nation to gain independence in 1957. Not surprisingly, when it comes to African film, the discussion never strays far from politics.

Bonetti, also 50, runs the AFF out of a modest loft office at 154 W. 18th St.; her husband Luca, a Swiss art conservator, maintains his studio adjacent. The festival was screened at the Walter Reade Theater at Lincoln Center in April and can be seen again at the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) this Memorial Day weekend. For details on all AFF activities, which include educational programs, film archives and summer outdoor screenings in Harlem’s parks, visit the Website at www.africanfilmny.org.

How did this rather ambitious project, the AFF, get started?

The idea started germinating in my mind in the mid-’80s. I took a course or two, but I don’t have a formal academic background in film theory or anything like that. After college, I worked at Young & Rubicam in media planning; then I went to Newsweek on the editorial side. I was sort of fluttering around. Basically, my purpose in life was to be part of the downtown scene, the art shows, the parties.

With the famine in Ethiopia, there were these images of Africa every time you turned on the TV. Simultaneously, there was an explosion of cultural offerings coming through New York—in music, theater and fashion. Spike Lee burst on the scene with “She’s Gotta Have It.” Kids were wearing cowrie shell beads and Malcolm X hats. Hip-hop was coming out. The name “African-American” became an official designation, a recognition, for this large, diverse group of blacks. Brazilians began speaking of their identity as the second-largest nation of people of African descent. Michael Jackson was raising millions for the famine with his song “We Are the World”; Bob Geldof was doing the same. Maybe, in my own small way, I was inspired by them.

In the summer, we would visit Luca’s folks in Lugano, Switzerland, and go to the film festival in the next town, Locarno. In 1989, they put on a program entitled “Thirty Years of African Cinema.” I had no idea there was such an extensive body of work, a whole generation of African filmmakers. I had friends with clubs like Area, the Palladium, MK, and I had been organizing these parties in New York, eclectic evenings with really good African bands to create some sort of awareness and a forum for discourse. I saw this film program in Locarno and I said, “This is the answer,” because the moving image is so powerful—it’s so immediate.

So, you have a big budget—with money from foundations—to pay all these people to do all this wonderful work?

[Laughs] Foundations have come through. Also recently, just in the last few years, we’ve been getting some corporate support. We also have a list of individual donors, which we’re building up. But you never get everything you need. First I heard, “Oh well, you’re part of larger institutions.” I would say, “No, we’re our own 501(c)(3); we just collaborate with established institutions because they have the venues, and it also gives us credibility.” Then after seven years: “How much staff do you have?” Now we’re going into our 15th year and people are just amazed. It’s rare that something culturally related to Africa is sustained. There were prominent people in the community and in the media who would say, “They make films in Africa? Oh.”

Do you have prominent African-American film people such as Spike Lee participating in your festival?

Well, we’ve asked him a number of times, but for whatever reason he hasn’t made it yet. But we’ve had others come to our opening and participate in our panels: Jeffrey Wright, John Singleton, Danny Glover, Anthony Appiah, Ruby Dee, Ossie Davis, when he was alive, even Harry Belafonte and Toni Morrison. Yes, it’s important for us to get some of the glamour of people who make the society pages. But for me, it’s very important that no one overshadows the filmmakers. They are our stars, our national treasures.

So, it’s still a process of building awareness?

Exactly. We’re still in a building stage. But I think we have our niche audience. I love my community; they have been the most loyal. Two years in a row, Lincoln Center put us opposite the Tribeca Film Festival. But the community saved us. By the community, I mean the diaspora community. I think we’ve proven there is an audience for African cinema. There’s a void people want to fill.

Where is a good place for people to start learning about African film?

We always say Ousmane Sembène is the father of contemporary African cinema. He is 87 now. He did “Cheddo,” and in 2004, “Moolaadé,” which was about female circumcision. I mean, this guy takes no prisoners. He tells a story like no one else. He may not be the most creative, but he goes to the core—he grabs you. We Africans are born storytellers, and he says film is like night school for us. It helps us preserve all the oral cultures. We might speak different languages, but in every sort of traditional culture, we start from the same canvas. Someone from Malawi’s not so different from me. I just think this seventh art hopefully will one day save Africa. If we get more films shown across the continent, it can be really a good mechanism to discover each other.

Who are some other African filmmakers of note?

Well, Kwaw Ansah was the first English-speaking filmmaker to win the Stallion of Yennega, which is first prize at FESPACO, the Panafrican Film Festival in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. His film “Love Brewed in an African Pot” is the highest-grossing African film to date and was the precursor to what is known today as Nollywood filmmaking. Souleymane Cissé is the most renowned filmmaker from Mali, who made a beautiful epic titled “Yeelen.” Then there’s Abderrahmane Sissako, considered one of the brightest and most talented filmmakers in the world today. One could say the baton has been passed from Sembène to Sissako, whose most recent film is “Bamako.” Jean-Marie Teno is hands-down one of the best documentary filmmakers; his latest, “The Colonial Misunderstanding,” looks at Germany’s “African past.” Fanta Nacro is the first female director from Burkina Faso; and Safi Fayé is the first woman to make a film on the continent and one of its most brilliant scriptwriters.

This year, the film that won at FESPACO, “Ezra,” was made by a Nigerian, about the situation in Sierra Leone. Then this young Dominican girl made a film called “Blé.” She took three rappers to Sierra Leone to show them, with all their bling, the consequences of the war: these kids who got amputated and you, who are buying these diamonds. It’s a fantastic documentary. That’s what we closed the AFF with this year. It’s kind of bittersweet.

Where is this going—what is the trajectory of the AFF?

We have year-round programming, and so many people have come to rely upon us, so I hope we can sustain it. I would like to be able to get some sort of cable deal. It’s one thing to show here in New York, but if cable TV has 30 million or 50 million viewers and we can get a share of that…. They say we’re dreamers, we Africans, and I never stop dreaming. I never lose hope.