[blockquote align=”centre” author=”EfikoScore: 5.8/10″ style=”font-size: 30px”] This biographical account plays too nice and never rises to the full height and daring of its great subject.
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Kehinde Bankole is Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti. And so are Joke Silva and Iyimode Ayo-Olumoko in this Bolanle Austen-Peters biopic. The story begins in 1977, when she gets flung, by military men, from two storeys up at her son’s Kalakuta Republic. A long flashback to the 1940s follows, courtesy of an interview with a journalist. In it Funmilayo (Bankole) leads a mass of women in protest against heavy market taxation by their Alake.
Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti was the first woman to drive a car. That’s her first claim to fame in Nigeria’s public consciousness. The second is that she mothered Fela Anikulakpo Kuti. But her life has other notable events. For instance, she was the first female student of Abeokuta Grammar School. It was there that, as this film has it, she met the love of her life, Israel Ransome-Kuti.
This sort of extra information is littered all over FRK, which gives a fuller picture of the woman than what was presented in Kunle Afolayan’ October 1. The thing, however, with FRK is that it ends up too safe. Madam Ransome-Kuti is an intriguing person anyhow, so there’s a significant amount of thrills. But the film is intent on telling her story in the manner of a reverential blog or documentary, with very little artistic liberties taken. The filmmakers know who she is and their story is a feature-length exposition rather than an exploration of the character. There is no becoming and no character arc here. No intentional moral appraisals. The protagonist is Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti from the start.
Her husband (Ibrahim Suleiman) is treated with respect. In Funmilayo’s accounting, he is rather saintly, and safely tucked in a corner, until called upon to offer a sweet smile or a tidbit of wisdom as a “good husband”. And yet one can’t help but note that the peculiar circumstances at the heart of this film must have required a bit more engagement from him. The decentering of men in movies, it seems, hasn’t made movies any better. And in the matter of treating spouses and significant others as full beings with personality and colour, the female director’s gaze fares no better than the male’s.
Or perhaps this has nothing to do with politics. FRK doesn’t treat its other characters any better. They are simply historical personages to be name-dropped directly or otherwise. They are NPCs to be interacted with then ignored.
This sort of laziness is evident throughout the film. The script uses dialogue to build awe but there’s no proper dramatisation. Are we better off told of buses dropping off more women joining the Abeokuta protests than seeing it for ourselves?
As noted, the story is told through the frame of an interview. But just why is this interview taking place? Is it on account of her mistreatment at the hands of the military government? If so, why isn’t a parallel drawn between the current incident and the face-off in the 1940s? If not, why is the military invasion of Kalakuta important within the events shown on the screen? Without an overt statement of intent, everything plays out as a meaningless collage of events.
FRK has beautiful visuals and its actors give fine performances. But question marks dot the story itself, particularly in a scene where we see Funmilayo have a moment of doubt while incarcerated.
Having led the mass of ordinary women to a now violent engagement, she wonders whether she has overreached. A second later, she overrides herself. But was that her call to make? Aren’t decisions that come with the threat of serious bodily harm best left to those most likely to suffer its effects? One comes away from that scene with the undoubtedly unintended feeling that Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti is irresponsible. And we never get a moment where the women of Abeokuta rise to the occasion of owning their protest. The revolution never becomes greater than the individual.
At this year’s AMVCA, FRK was nominated for Best Movie, Best Costume, and Best Screenplay. Its writer, Tunde Babalola, won Best Screenplay. Yet, considering the real-life power and daring of Funmilayo Ransom Kuti, one wonders if playing her story this safe was the way to go.
