As a film enthusiast and someone who has spent countless hours poring over documentaries, I must say that “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” is a truly remarkable piece of work. The way it seamlessly weaves together historical events, jazz music, and raw, unfiltered testimonies creates an immersive experience that leaves you both enlightened and shaken.
Among the film-based writings I’ve read in the past year, Chris Person’s essay “They Want You To Forget What A Film Looks Like” stands out as my favorite. In this piece, Person discusses how modern practices of 4K transfers on movies like “True Lies” and “The Abyss” distort their original looks. According to him, the skin in these ‘upgraded’ videos appears sterile and waxy due to excessive removal of film grain. He also mentions that everything seems to have ray-tracing effects. Person argues that this process is fundamentally flawed as it strips older movies of their unique visual characteristics such as film grain, diverse lighting, and other ‘imperfections’, which give films their distinct personalities.
In today’s film industry, modern studios and AI algorithms strive to make restored movies appear as if they have always looked this way, catering to the conditioning of new audiences. Critics argue that the work done by Park Road Post, particularly in the 2018 Peter Jackson documentary “They Shall Not Grow Old,” sets a problematic precedent. This film enhanced World War I footage, making it colorized, 3D, and running at a higher frame rate. The eloquent critique points out issues such as motion interpolation of soldiers that appears unnatural and inconsistent digital noise reduction in the documentary itself.
His essay ominously, but accurately, concludes by noting that “It’s not simply enough for much of digital cinema to look crystal clear and lifeless; the past should be denoised, grain managed and cleaned to conform to that standard. It is expedient and profitable if people don’t remember what film is supposed to look like.” It’s a fantastic read crystallizing problems I’ve had with modern digital transfers for years…but I never could’ve eloquently explained them this well! It’s a must-read about a dire problem we should all take seriously as film fans.
In my mind, Pearson’s words echoed as I watched “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” incorporate archival material. Director Johan Grimonprez blends an array of media resources to visually support a tale about the U.S. and Belgian government-approved actions linked to the assassination of Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba. He frequently switches to various sources such as old, grainy interviews with Malcolm X, hurriedly captured footage of Lumumba on the street, or images tinted yellow of Louis Armstrong disembarking from an airplane (and much more).
The flaws in these old videos are intentionally kept for the soundtrack of a Coup d’Etat, featuring numerous segments (mostly sourced from TV broadcasts) tinted blue. These visual changes contribute significantly to the movie in several aspects. For instance, the frequent transitions between color schemes (ranging from black and white to fully colored videos) or video quality subtly conveys the multitude of viewpoints present in this narrative. The complex tale of Lumumba spans across countries like Cuba, Russia, and Congo, and these visual alterations symbolize the numerous perspectives involved in this global story. The chaotic images that flood the screen visually echo a story unfolding across continents.
As a gamer, I find that the atmosphere in this game is strikingly similar to the tense, paranoid times of the Cold War era. Unlike other games that attempt to modernize their visuals for today’s audience, They Shall Not Grow Old focuses on making its images from the 1910s resonate with present-day viewers. In contrast, Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat is so captivating that it thrives by immersing you in worn and weathered images, reminding you of their age rather than trying to polish them up for me. Grimonprez’s collection of archival footage is designed to evoke a certain mood, not tailored to my specific tastes.
Mixing together a slew of propulsive jazz tracks with occasionally heightened images like floating hats or a spinning bedframe, meanwhile, infuses a temporarily surrealistic quality to the Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat that’s incredibly appropriate. Hearing anecdotes of CIA officials nonchalantly discussing murdering folks Fidel Castro or Lumumba is a mind-boggling experience. The images on-screen can’t be routine, they have to match the ludicrousness and cacophony of reality.
This highly detailed visual cues aid in narrating historical occurrences that are likely to leave any rational observer with clenched fists, elevated blood pressure, and an open mouth. For instance, after presenting footage of Nikita Khrushchev’s United Nations speech advocating for global nuclear disarmament, Grimonprez immediately switches to a headline announcing significant stock market drops. This news alarmed American leaders, who were already wary of anything linked to Russia. The capitalist system and the wealthy class were potentially endangered, which sparked a chain reaction of historical events leading to global conflict.
Grimonprez and editor Rik Chaubet demonstrate an impressive sense of timing with the visuals in this film, making the sequence of events more easily understood since the movie primarily avoids interviews and spoken narration. This allows viewers to fully appreciate the impact of the visual details without any sudden commentary like “This was significant.” A particularly poignant and chilling example of this is when the movie, titled Coup d’Etat, sheds light on the exploitation of Congolese resources that fueled Belgian and American interest in the Congo. Old footage from the Congo shows a disabled native, missing an arm due to laboring in mines for colonizers, lighting cigarettes for his white superiors. The mistreatment and disregard for Congolese people is starkly evident in this distressing footage.
It becomes apparent, as Grimonprez and Chaubet demonstrate, that they repurpose antiquated footage into a polished advertisement for an unattractive Tesla car. The message of Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat is clear enough without voiceover or additional visuals: Wealth in white societies is founded upon oppression and colonialism.
It’s not the only moment in Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat that leaves you gasping and shuddering. A late sequence consisting of just audio from an interview with a South African soldier tasked with slaughtering Congolese natives (accompanied only by on-screen text transcribing his words) is a sickening glimpse into humanity’s nadir. The man’s blasé attitude about slaughtering women and children (“Well, they’re cannibals, ya know, they’re not normal people” he hideously says to justify the inexcusable) reminded me of the testimony from the former SS officer secretly filmed for Shoah. In both cases, cinema bears witness to a man verbalizing incomprehensible crimes against humanity.
This segment is remarkably sparse, causing each word in this man’s stories to resonate deeply with the audience, as if they were heavy bricks falling. It’s one of the minimalist sections in the film score for a Coup d’Etat. On the other hand, this production audaciously jumps between various historical viewpoints and occurrences, swiftly moving from one musical cue to another. That’s another impressive aspect of this production – its music. To make watching Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat even more compelling, audiences are also drawn into the works of some of the most talented musicians in history. Artists like John Coltrane, Nina Simone, Ornette Coleman, and many others have the opportunity to showcase their creativity within this film’s musical selections.
In the documentaries, audio elements include readings from memoirs and books that complement the visual images. One striking example is Koli Jean Bofane reading excerpts from his book “Congo Inc“. Born in Congo, Bofane’s words are eloquent, and his testimony in “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” carries a powerful, lived-in atmosphere. Throughout the documentary, Grimonprez emphasizes historical evidence showing Western governments’ involvement in imperialism and human rights abuses. Bofane’s segments offer a vivid portrayal of the consequences of these atrocities, with a particularly heart-wrenching scene where he discusses how Congo continues to struggle with cycles of violence and oppression to this day. This leaves viewers feeling deeply saddened.
The emotional impact of these sequences is testament to how effectively the most ambitious aspirations of “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” are realized. This documentary encompasses an extensive range, from Dizzy Gillespie’s presidential bid to Nikita Khrushchev’s shoe-banging incident at the United Nations general assembly, to CIA files suggesting they aimed to topple Castro using an explosive cigar, and much more. Just like many jazz pieces, it’s a chaotic yet harmonious blend. The passionate creativity of Grimonprez and his team ensures “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” resonates so strongly…and what’s remarkable is that this movie managed to achieve this without the aid of AI programs to enhance archival footage into smoothed-over relics! Chris Person would be impressed! Maintaining the original integrity of the archival footage is just one of the many ways “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” stands out.
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2024-12-18 02:45