Q&A WITH RUNGANO NYONI
Rungano Nyoni’s films explore cultural discord in her native Zambia. Her first feature, I Am Not a Witch (2017), explored Zambia’s little-known “witch camps” and premiered at Cannes in Director’s Fortnight. Eventually, the film earned Nyoni a BAFTA Award for Outstanding Debut. Her new film, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl, was produced by A24 and premiered at Cannes Un Certain Regard. The film concerns a family whose mourning over a deceased relative sparks an intergenerational debate about rituals and remembrance.
On Becoming a Guinea Fowl is now in select theaters across the U.S.
Q. Your new film questions several Zambian traditions related to honor and remembrance through a critical lens. A similar instinct is at play in your previous film. How does this critical impulse drive the way you tell stories?
A. My intention isn’t to actually question tradition in my films… although I know that’s how it comes across. I think it’s about how culture or traditions are often weaponized to suppress, oppress or silence. Bemba culture in its purest form offers a guidebook on how to live life and face challenges. It’s a matriarchal culture that promotes equality between Men and Women. These qualities are actually quite empathic and have been passed down aurally for generations. What I try to explore is when this guidebook is exploited or warped to suit sinister motives, such as Patriarchal needs.
Q. A lot of On Becoming a Guinea Fowl’s dramatic tension revolves around the generational differences that arise when the main character and her cousins challenge their aunts about their deceased uncle’s legacy. How do you feel about changing cultural norms in Zambia and cinema’s ability to influence these changes?
A. I am not sure if cinema has the ability to influence that much by itself; I think it’s important as part of a collective effort from individuals, organizations, debates, activism, social media, and other art expressions to try and influence change. It’s an ongoing and evolving beast and cinéma is a part of that.
Q. There’s a blend of the distinctly everyday and the surreal in your films. How do these different approaches to filmmaking complement each other in your eyes?
A. I don’t know if they actually complement each other. Honestly, I could have pushed the surrealism much more and been bolder with my choices, but it felt right at the time. I tend to just follow my gut and grapple with the reasoning later. I included those parts to have the feeling of being disassociated from your surroundings, not feeling like you are centered or sure-footed. I have strange dreams during funerals, and I was logging them down and I wanted the audience to feel how dispatched and uneasy I felt during mourning—maybe that’s the closest to an explanation I can get.
Q. What is the last film you saw and loved?
A. Dahomey. This film took me to another place. I enjoyed it as a great piece of art and I love watching films that I am in awe of and somewhat envious of. It was just a perfect film for me.
Q. What’s a happy creative accident you’ve had on set?
A. Gosh, I feel like the entire thing is a collection of happy accidents… somewhat. I tend to be loose with the script and mise en scène on set so we can nurture happy accidents. I like films to feel messy and a bit organic, and just feel human.
Q. What’s a project you’d like to make someday, however impossible it might seem now?
A. My sci-fi in Botswana and uuuuuuuuhhhh my musical in Africa and America… that is my expensive fantasy.
Q. Are there any filmmakers working today you admire and would like to see develop a greater following?
A. All the Black women filmmakers… all of them… every single one of them. All the African filmmakers too.
Q. What image would you like to end this interview with?
A. It’s of a room full of onions that were drying at the farm I shot in. We found it on the day we were shooting, and I wished I had pushed to just shoot it in that room, but we were running behind and it was unrealistic. It’s a reminder of what I hunt for when filming / texture / richness…
