Arie and Chuko Esiri‘s first feature is a uniquely elegant one. It signals the start, I hope, of two brilliant careers. Indeed, the sheer artfulness displayed here is too delicate and purposeful for this not to be the case. Split into two, almost entirely distinct sections, Eyimofe explores the lives of two complex characters in Lagos, Nigeria’s biggest city.
Mofe (Jude Akuwudike), the lead of the ‘Spain’ section, is an engineer working for barely nothing. He tries to save to leave the country, but the people close to him die and he struggles to even buy their coffins. Another life has never felt more distant. We are introduced to him fixing electrical circuits, wearing bright red overalls that nearly burst out of the screen. Even in this sad milieu, the compositions are incredibly beautiful, showing vibrant, multi-coloured wires and rust-bitten interiors.
Rosa (Temi Ami-Williams) is similarly unable to scrape the funds together to get a visa and other necessary paperwork. She works as a hairdresser and a bartender. Her main concern is looking after her very young, pregnant sister, but she also goes out with friends and falls for an American man who vastly overshadows her in terms of social status. This second part of the film is called ‘Italy’.
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While the inter-titles define these people by the places that they plan to emigrate to, the truth is more complicated. Life, generally in the form of monetary and societal boundaries, gets in the way. Rosa, for example, owes money to her landlord, who also makes inappropriate advances on her. In turn, this makes her borrow from her new boyfriend. Sometimes others suggest that she is using them, yet we understand that it is poverty that is manipulating her, spurring the drama of her existence.
Social critique, however, is a particularly muted aspect of the film’s already subtle design. In keeping with this sparseness, the barely-conjoined plots stagnate to a certain extent. More story-focused viewers may feel unfulfilled when it all ends, not with resolution but a real openness. Certainly, nothing here is blunt or clear-cut.
We know these characters through their interactions with others and with their environments; yet, in many moments, it is really the setting and the images that speak directly to us. Kaleidoscopic, neon hues glide across Rosa’s face. Cavernous areas of darkness and rich, deep crimsons in hers and Mofe’s houses evoke a melancholy and a desire that more generic storytelling never could.
It sounds odd and a little pretentious, but after watching so many poorly graded and unambitiously shot digital movies, it’s liberating to just bask in a 16mm film that seems so gracefully tied to the format. Rather than pixelated, blurry backgrounds, there is genuine life here – great depths and fiery, prismatic tones to get lost in.
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Aside from being astonishingly beautiful, the effect of the camerawork is a type of intensified realism. If I am to compare Eyimofe to lesser works again, albeit very indirectly, it achieves that wondrous thing of taking a poverty-induced, desperate story and making it engaging on a spiritual level. It doesn’t even feel sad.
Returning to the narrative for a moment, it is interesting that it operates, especially with the intertitles, on the presumption of emigration. It brings into question what aspirations Mofe and Rosa have, and whether they are already experiencing a type of displacement. The rigidity of the form implies a move that may never happen. If Nigeria is home then will they ever get to leave?
Last year’s Vitalina Varela surveyed through one, detailed example the struggle that many African immigrants deal with in Europe. In fact, there are many pieces of art about adjusting to another country – perhaps less about trying to leave. The precariousness of immigrant livelihoods and homes mirrors that character’s sense of bewilderment. To be poor, it seems to say, is to be lost.
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If this is true, then Mofe is already in a period of migration. In scenes where he timidly negotiates with lawyers or is mistreated and ignored by his boss, he is lost. When Rosa hangs out with her boyfriend’s privileged, market-obsessed friends, she is lost too. At one point, a sparse, quiet radio broadcast informs us of the huge wealth disparity in the country, something that has, of course, worsened recently even in the richest places on the planet.
Touches like these are all the Esiri brother’s need to say everything. It is the sign of a great director to not only craft an engaging film but also one where each element of the craft is imaginative. In a moment after the death of his relatives, Mofe’s flash-light is all they need to emphasise the stark, painful brutality of the moment. Perhaps in this we have the sign of two great directors. The result is, at times, immense.