Atlantic’s Is A Futuristic Meditation On Love, Culture And African Spirituality
The mythical blind spots we miss in life are the precise focal points of Mati Diop’s Canne Grand-Prix award-winning debut Atlantics. The mood is equivalent to having your palms read and consequently waiting for the ‘signs’ to manifest themselves. We secretly hope they come true but the more we consider the fear of the unknown the more it paralyses us. It’s this nondescript avenue that Atlantics’ ventures into that leave us spellbound; whether we accept this fate is another story. The films musical score and soothing soundbites of the ocean as it oscillates and crashes, is magical, putting us atpeace. In Dakar, Senegal, we digest a story of love gained and lost, of culture and tradition, conjuring up ideas of African spirituality and folklore as a mysterious backdrop.
The main plot of this story is the relationship between 17-year-old Ada and young Suleiman. What we can relate to is the familiarity of premature love, with the yearning and infatuation that complements the intense emotions, from its withdrawal. It’s this constant push and pull between Ada and Souleiman that plagues their budding romance and gives this film a charming presence. Ada is betrothed to a man who she doesn’t love and Suleiman seeks the overdue respect and hard-earned compensation for his unprotected work as a non-contracted builder. Both are economically in the same position but the slight differences in their fortunes give away their opposing destinies. As a young woman, Ada’s seemingly attractive prospect of marriage would elevate her socially and out of poverty but as a young man, Souleiman’s prospects seem drab as he has to go out of his way to barely scrape by a living. There are various omens or Djinns throughout the film that may warn the couple of their fate or they appear as sub-plots to seek other karmic ventures. However, this lust for the unsettling future is precisely what our young lovers have to face and we as the audience can’t blame them for wanting to escape it.
A real gem of watching Atlantics is the stunning portrayal of the rich culture of Dakar, Senegal. We witness typical African Muslims go about their lives, tending to their homes: the fine-grained landscapes of the suburban city and the slum-style concrete homes among the vast land lay bare, lacking infrastructure. There is an air of unfinished business, literally and figuratively. For the most part, the films civil inhabitants seem to be making the most of very little. This reality cuts sharply through the outsider-looking-in perspective as the disadvantages faced in underdeveloped countries puts our conscience in the driver’s seat. We also begin to see the separation of the perpetually moving days with the nights. Ada reminds us of the day, still but passionate and Souleiman is the night, enticing yet cold.
As the plot thickens we soon realise the prospect of getting answers are very slim. Are the collisions from the ocean’s waves still soothing or now scary? Will Souleiman quickly return from greener pastures just as easily as he left without a proper goodbye? At this point, it feels like anything could happen, and we should cherish that. This questioning for answers confronts the mystique of African spirituality honouring the power of west African Orishas (Mythological Gods) for guidance. One powerful form that comes to mind Is Olokun, who is the male gatekeeper similarly with his female counterpart Yemoja, of the rivers and oceans. Olokun represents power, wisdom, strength and rage when commanding the seas. We see a hyperbolic display when the film cuts to the ocean as it gains an intensive fiery hue. Olokun also takes on male and female forms which represent his hot-cold temperament possibly symbolising the passion between Ada and Soleiman.
This theme of intensity is shown by Mati Diop’s mastery of light which is used to convey a new mood or point in the story. For example, the days which were previously lacklustre, become invigorated with pensive streaks of red hot light on the main protagonist’s skin symbolising an eerie presence or discomfort. The nights suddenly seem less dreary, we’re taken back to an earlier scene where Ada sits in the confines of a bar at night as green strobe lights flow seductively like streams of water on her skin. This creates an otherworldly crust to this nomadic story. What stays with us is the magnetic pull of the Atlantic waves as the light seeps in and out of them. Will love and nature reign together, naturally, as it was meant to be? You’ll have to watch Atlantics to find out.
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Words by Funmi Olagunju
