Title: Dakan
Director: Mohamed Camara
Year of Release: 1997
Language: French, Mandinka
Run time: 89 minutes.
“Since time began it has never happened…Boys don’t do that! That’s all there is to it!”
One only has to take a quick glance at the works of the early African filmmakers to know that these auteurs were not afraid to take risks for the sake of their vision. From Sembene’s decision to make Mandabi (1968) in the Wolof language to Faye’s scathing critique of the Senegalese government’s agricultural policy in Kaddu Beykat (1975), the continent’s pioneering directors displayed a boldness that was borderline dangerous. However, the most daring act of African filmmaking was not to come until the close of the 20th century when Mohamed Camara made the queer coming of age classic, Dakan.
Born in Conakry in 1959, Camara’s foray into film began with a surreptitious encounter with French film star, Michel Piccoli. Camara had journeyed to France to study business administration, but after missing the deadline for enrolment, he found himself stuck in a foreign land with little prospects. While wandering around the streets of Paris, he ran into Piccoli and introduced himself as a fan. Piccoli had coffee with Camara and told him of an opportunity to work as an actor in a play being made by a friend, a role that eventually kickstarted Camara’s career as an actor. After being typecast in roles as a thief, thug, or general ruffian, Camara decided to write his own roles and direct his own stories.
Camara’s first short film, Denko (1993) explored an incestuous situation between a mother and a son, and his second short film Minka (1995) featured adolescent suicide as its main subject. It was clear that Camara aimed to use the camera as a medium to tackle difficult or even taboo issues, and it should have come as no surprise when the most forbidden of topics on the African continent took center stage in Dakan, his first feature film.
Dakan follows the romance between Manga and Sory, teenage boys who must navigate the complications of being gay in a hostile environment. Although they are able to express their relationship openly in school and are accepted by their mates, both are fiercely rebuked by their parents when they attempt to come out. Sory’s father instructs his son to stop seeing Manga while Manga’s mother resorts to a traditional means of conversion therapy in hopes of curing her son of his ‘illness’. Manga is sent away for a year, and when returns, he falls in love with a woman (Oumou), and it appears that he may truly have been ‘cured’. However, he is unable to fully express his love to her without thinking of Sory.
After accepting the truth about himself, Manga goes in search of Sory and finds out that the latter is married and has just had a child. However, there remains an undeniable connection between the two, and their reunion forces them to choose between living false lives within the confines of society or taking an uncertain alternative.
Tackling such a controversial subject required a certain level of confidence, and by beginning the film with a passionate kissing scene between Manga and Sory, Camara showed that he had the guts needed for such an undertaking. Each scene involving Manga and Sory carries a longing that was hitherto unknown in African cinema, and Camara’s intention to spark conversation about the African attitude to homosexual relationships is evident in the way he lingers on every moment of passion between the young lovers. Whether or not they root for the young couple at the end of the film, Camara succeeds in forcing the section of the audience that would feel repulsion or discomfort at the romantic displays on screen to interrogate these feelings.
Although Camara’s bravery is the foundation for the success of the film, the cast must also be commended for their fearlessness. Taking on the role of a homosexual character was always going to be risky, and it is no surprise that Camara struggled to find actors to take up the challenge. In fact, Camara was keen on playing the role of Manga if not for the intervention of the film’s producer who told the 37-year-old Camara that he could never be convincing as an 18-year-old no matter how good he acted. Thus, Camara had to plead with his younger brother, Mamady, to take on the role of Manga. Shortly after, Aboubacar Toure agreed to play Sory.
The courage of these two young men made up for what they lacked in experience, but they needed all the support they could get, and it is reported that they demanded that their girlfriends be present on set whenever they had to shoot intimate scenes. This unusual demand could have been motivated by a desire to remind the crew that, although they were engaging in homosexual romance in front of the camera, they were heterosexual in real life. While some may criticize this attitude by the actors, it makes an interesting inverse with the lives of Manga and Sory who have to act heterosexual for the gaze of society while the images of their lovers linger constantly at the back of their mind.
On its release, the film was well received by the western audience, especially the African American gay community. In Africa, however, the film was widely criticised and loathed, and Camara was often in danger of lynching whenever the film was publicly screened. Camara had to leave screenings early and even change hotels frequently during the films African run, and he once had to deny his identity after an angry mob began searching for the film’s director immediately after a screening in his home country.
Even the African film community joined in this attack on the film. In a 1997 article, the renowned Burkinabé film critic Clément Tabsoba questioned the relevance of a homosexual story in the African context and suggested that Camara was more interested in pleasing western viewers than catering to the African audience. The legendary Senegalese filmmaker, Djibril Diop Mambéty, reportedly walked out during the films press at the 1997 Cannes film festival, telling Camara that although his film will be talked about for years, his career as a filmmaker was practically over. Mambéty’s statement turned out to be true.
Since Dakan, Camara has not released another feature film, although he began principal photography on a project titled The Fugitive which remains unreleased. However, he made a short film called Balafola in 2001, and in 2010 he was appointed as the Director of the Guinean National Film Office. Camara resides in Guinea with his wife, and while he may not be as popular as many of the filmmakers of his time, his singular feature remains one of the most important films made on the continent.
Dakan screened at the Directors fortnight at the 1997 Cannes Film Festival, as well as the 1998 LA Outfest where it won the award for Best Foreign Narrative. Although it continues to enjoy a prolific run among LGBTQI+ themed film festivals around the world, the film remains largely unseen in Africa especially since it is unavailable for streaming on any platform on the continent. Occasionally, one may find online screenings being organised, especially in June (Pride month). If you ever get the chance to see it, we urge you to!
Let us know what you think about the film in the comment section.
An interview with Camara was conducted in 2019 by Afro Queer Podcast, and you may listen to the episode by clicking here.
