Background image

terug

Cry Freedom

The following text is a review of the film Cry Freedom, which is set in South Africa.

11     I have used a lot of space in this column criticizing films which heroize white
2 journalists, and my expectations of Cry Freedom were low. Yet I left the cinema as a
3 movie-goer filled with righteous anger at the regime which tortured and killed Steve Biko
4 and so many other blacks; while at the same time, as a critic, pondering over this feeling
5 and the devices which aroused it.
26     The immediate context of the film is well known. It tells the true story of Donald
7 Woods, white South African newspaper editor whose attempts to expose the
8 circumstances of Biko's death in detention led to his banning, followed by a dramatic
9 escape with his family. Woods' book, Biko, smuggled out with him, had a wide-reaching
10 effect in focusing attention on Biko's case and on the torture and murder carried out
11 routinely by South African 'security' forces. The Woods have acted as advisors on the
12 film which in many respects goes out of its way to de-heroize them. The Woods are not
13 radicals: they have a black live-in maid and at the start of the film, Biko accurately calls
14 Woods 'a white liberal who clings to all the advantages of the white world'.
315     But it is precisely this which allows the film its central persuasive device; the
16 gradual exposure of Donald Woods' flawed liberal position and his education by Biko
17 and by events which lead to a total undermining of his belief in South African 'justice'.
18 The mechanism is that of a conservative view which may be that of a general audience
19 and which is inscribed in the film in the form of a sympathetic character who is then
20 confronted by a reality which forces him or her to change it. This is by no means a stupid
21 way of challenging deeply held 'neutral' attitudes.
422     The film really comes alive when Woods first explores the world beyond white
23 privilege and tests out his ideas on Biko and his friends. It is from their mouths that
24 attacks on liberal hypocrisy work best, because they carry all the force of an utterly
25 different experience. Their attacks come across sympathetically because the film has
26 taken care to show from the outset the far more extreme dangers blacks are subject to all
27 the time. Thus the film's own bottom-line reality lends support to Biko's speech and
28 comments and we eagerly anticipate the realignment of Woods' views in accordance with
29 this reality.
530     The second half of the film provides, in a sense, a retrospective justification of his
31 changed perceptions, because the dramatic chase and escape create a sense of danger (as
32 in any thriller) and we start to feel the oppressiveness of the regime not through political
33 argument, as in the sections where Biko is still alive, but through the different narrative
34 devices of suspense. Yet the film ends with a considered attempt to counterbalance the
35 drama of the white family: at the moment of their greatest danger, flying unauthorized
36 over South African airspace, it cuts to an extended sequence of the Soweto massacre and
37 ends with a long list of all those killed in detention, including Biko, merely one among
38 many.
639     This measured counter-weighting is not only part of the film's politics but of its
40 appeal. For at heart it represents a kind of improved liberalism: if the story is in a way
41 the white liberal's Bildungsroman, the movie itself is its product. Donald Woods' flawed
42 liberalism is exposed, not to be replaced by radicalism but to be made whole again. In a
43 period of change, liberal ideology must let go certain positions - 'de-territorialize' - in
44 order to re-form or 're-territorialize' in ways more appropriate to the times. This is almost
45 exactly what Cry Freedom does - which is why its first half is so genuinely powerful,
46 representing as it does the undermining and letting go of a liberal racist position, and
47 with its positive presentation of black leaders.
748     This half of the film provokes a political anger, as indeed it should. But by the end,
49 why am I feeling so righteous? Is it the immense narrative relief as Woods reaches a
50 British Embassy and is offered a cup of tea? Is it perhaps the very fact that Britain is
51 where Woods escaped to? Is it the certainty that the film is right, that I am right, that all
52 right-minded people are right, in opposing apartheid? This feeling is simultaneously the
53 strength and the weakness of the film: a strength, because of course apartheid is wrong
54 and the more people convinced of it the better; a weakness, because in leaving a glow of
55 indignation about South Africa, the film never undermines our ultimate faith in the
56 fairness of its updated liberalism (it endorses only non-violent black struggle) and, by
57 implication, our own traditions. Perhaps some day someone will make a big-budget
58 main stream film about police violence to blacks in this country. If that seems hard to
59 imagine, it is interesting to consider why.
 
     Judith Williamson in the 'New Statesman', December 4, 1987