By Dwight Brown
NNPA Film Critic
(**) Even master auteurs have an off day. A premise that doesn’t pan out. A vision that others can’t see. But because they’re so talented, often film buffs find some kind of gold in whatever they do.
Legendary writer/director Abderrahmane Sissako, who was born in Mauritania and raised in Mali, has built a solid reputation on classic African films like Bamako and the César award-winning war/drama Timbuktu.
This time out, his screenwriting instincts, and that of co-writer Kessen Tall, lead him away from a solid premise into an overloaded narrative weighed down by extraneous subplots and characters. What could have been a compelling, cross-cultural romantic drama, goes astray. That said, this modern, international fable does starts with a flourish.
An ant climbs up a satiny, white wedding gown worn by Aya (Nina Mélo), a twentysomething-year-old who sits next to her fiancé Toussaint (Franck Pycardhy).
They’re in a hall in Abidjan, the largest city in Côte d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast). The room is filled with brides and grooms who’re ready to get married. One by one, each couple stands in front of a minister and takes their vows. On what should be one of the happiest days of her life, Aya is having inner conflict. When it’s time for her to say “I do” she hesitates.
She can’t. She confronts her husband-to-be about his questionable behavior. He’s dismissive, “Don’t be jealous.” Aya, “I’m not jealous. I don’t want a future made of lies. You’re not happy with me. I’d like you to find happiness and feel free.” And so, she flees.
Other movies have taken this panic-at-the-alter scenario and expanded it with great success. Most famously 1999’s Julia Roberts-staring rom/com Runaway Bride. The infectious humor from that movie is woefully absent here.
As the somber storyline develops, Aya walks through an outdoor market shedding her wedding attire. Almost in a blink, the newly independent woman is in the sprawling port city of Guangzhou, northwest of Hong Kong on the Pearl River in China. It’s also known as “Chocolate City” or “Little Africa,” due to its large African ex-pat community. Guangzhou becomes her new home.
Aya finds work in a tea shop, owned by Cal (Chang Han), a somewhat older gray-haired man. It isn’t long before the boss/worker relationship becomes flirtatious and morphs into a loving partnership. AsCal teaches Aya all the fascinating and historical aspects of tea, from smelling, serving and selling, their romance blooms. As do the implications and complications of their affair.
Love should fill the air, and its zest should be a driving force that carries the film until the final credits. Instead, other cumbersome aspects intrude. Aya has so many friends it’s hard to keep track.Cal has so many family members, former employees and past affairs, it would take ancestry.com to follow them all.
What if the plotting had taken the same path as Oscar® nominated screenwriter/director Celine Song’s Past Lives? What if this storyline had been a delicate, tender and unfettered ode to love? It might have helped its cause. Also, thoughCal and Aya are courting, there isn’t much sparking. No fiery passion, reckless abandonment or bedroom hijinks. The kind that romantics swoon over in theaters or stream at night with a glass or wine and a sweetheart.
As a director, Sissako still displays glimpses of his amazing talent. More so with his staging and managing of a first-rate tech crew. Less so getting emotional performances from the cast. The cinematography (Aymerick Pilarski) peaks in an eye-catching tea plantation sequence where the verdant landscape and its shrub-like textures surround Cal and Aya. Whether that vision is movie magic or a real location, it’s quite beguiling.
Armand Amar’s musical score is as winsome as the playlist that includes Nina Simone classic hit “Feeling Good,” as sung by actress-turned-singer Fatoumata Diawara, who appeared in Timbuktu. Interiors well feign Africa, China and the nation of Cape Verde, where Cal once had an affair, thanks to production designer Véronique Sacrez. The special attention to colors, shapes, and fabrics attest to costume designer Annie Melza Tiburce’s brilliance.
The lengthy footage meanders for 110 minutes, when 90 minutes would have served all better (editor Nadia Ben Rachid). How much does the audience need to know about Cal’s history, in-laws and former wife? Why do the characters in a hair saloon matter? Why must audiences hear Cal’s father-in-law berate Africans who live in China: “…African snakes … they must be kept outside our society … an exhibition about them compares them to animals!” If that character can speak ill of Africans, why don’t Africans air their negative feelings about Chinese people? In fact, why was any of that relevant? Most will wish that the production had trusted the love affair to sustain interest and skipped the rest.
If there is a worthy subplot, it’s learning how Chinese culture deifies tea. Cal relays his love for it reverently, like it’s a magic elixir: “First savor the atmosphere the surroundings, second savor the taste and third savor the effect.”
Hard to think of a film that has focused this much attention on a brew. Considering that tea is a cultural ritual in other parts of Asia, Africa, the Middle East, Ireland, India, Russia, England and other countries, this was a welcomed bit of enlightenment.
The mixture of African and Asian cultures is novel. Watching Aya and others of African descent speak fluent Chinese is a revelation. As is the notion of a thriving Black community in China. As that’s explored, Mélo projects a majesty about her that makes Aya feel regal in the most subtle ways. Like she’s a princess in a foreign land. Han is less expressive, and his character’s cowardness and insensitive behavior is so abhorrent he’s beyond redemption. Especially when he asks Aya to hide in a bedroom when his in-laws visit.
Back Tea isn’t one of Sissako’s masterworks, but it still has some moments that are gems. That’s why his admirers and those who attend the 32nd annual New York African Film Festival, which runs May 7th to 31st, will continue to cherish his films.
Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.
