Moolaadé ("magical protection") is a 2004 film by the Senegalese writer and director Ousmane Sembène. It addresses the subject of female genital cutting, a common practice in a number of African countries, especially those immediately south of the Sahara Desert. The film was a co-production between companies from several Francophone nations: Senegal, France, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Morocco, and Tunisia. It was filmed in the remote village of Djerrisso, Burkina Faso.

The film is set in a village in Burkina Faso. The film argues strongly against the practice, depicting a village woman, Collé, who uses moolaadé (magical protection) to protect a group of girls. She is opposed by the villagers who believe in the necessity of female genital cutting, which they call "purification".

In his most recent film, 81 year old Senegalese veteran director Ousmane Sembene produces a scathingly simple criticism on the subject of female circumcision, and through its lens explores the opportunities for cultural exchange between the West and sub-Saharan cultures. The pleasant metamorphosis of film and indigenous African identity is fully apparent in Moolaade where Sembene allows for the camera and content to explore internal cultural structures rather than exonerate them. Sembene has often argued for cinema's space in cultural identity, and has expounded on its importance as a source of information in the face of illiteracy and differing consumption habits. In his earlier works, such as 1968's Mandabi (The Money Order) Sembene criticized post-colonial structures of bureaucracy and corruption, and argued that the future of the Senegal lay with the honesty and practices of its masses. In Moolaade, Sembene is not nearly as certain that glamorizing cultural and religious heritage won't lead to stagnation and pain.

Moolaade opens with four young girls begging for support from Colle Gallo, the second wife of a villager who refused to have her own daughter, Amasatou, cut and sown seven years earlier. Colle has developed a reputation for denouncing the act and grants the children "Moolaade," a form of sanctuary that carries religious implications. The children are not to cross a rope tied across the entrance to the living quarters of the family, and the villagers demanding the girls be handed over cannot enter either. What ensues is a lengthy dispute involving several fractions of the community including the women who perform the ceremonies, the religious men of the village, Colle, and Hadjatou, a fellow elder wife (1st wife) who supports Colle's endeavors in her own style. The situation is fairly clear, the girls fear the mutilation, but their challenging of the tradition gets Colle, Hadjatou, and Amasatou in trouble. Amasatou has been promised to the most prestigious man from the village, Doyenne, who has left to Paris and become wealthy by local standards. Upon his return to meet her, he is offered instead another wife because Amasatou was never "Purified." Amasatou's anger at rejection proves that such traditions are maintained not just through law but as well through cultural pressure.

Sembene introduces Mercenaire, a local good salesman, as the most ambiguous and intelligent character in the film. Viewers are first introduced to him as a bit of a womanizer, he invites every woman to come by his place after sunset. He also sells European products such as radios, bras, and batteries. His collection of objects is very conscious, as are his clothes. He is one of only two men who do not dress in traditional garb, rather, he is consistently shown wearing an undershirt and baggy shorts. He jokes about jacking up bread prices and at one point reveals his past as a soldier working for the U.N. Mercenaire received dishonorable discharge and five years in prison for revealing corrupt military officials. His past is perhaps Sembene's way of reminding us of The Money Order's optimistic view of eliminating Western corruption. On the other hand, his worldly travels is also a redeeming quality as he constantly mumbles under his breathe at some of the traits he finds atrocious including genital mutilation.

After two escaped young girls are found drowned in a well, the male villagers begin to question why the tradition of purification is becoming increasingly challenged. All the women have radios and listen to Western talk, the radios must be confiscated. Sembene makes a point of filming the ever growing pile of radios simultaneously to the female outcry for a return of the goods they worked for and purchased. Mercenaire looks on first in mild amusement, and later in anger. Doyenne finds the religious leaders actions disturbing as well, and pointedly visits Amasatou despite public knowledge that she is not sown. He has been removed the situation for quite some time however, and is hesitant to challenge his father’s actions unlike the determined Colle and the cynical Hadjatou.

As the situation becomes more polarized, some of the town's women begin to sympathize with the Moolaade, more so because their own habits are coming under heavier and heavier scrutiny. The split is not easily gendered however, as the women responsible for conducting the mutilation rituals do not want to yield their beliefs, nor do the mother's of the escaped children. Sembene deals heavily with gender themes in many of his films, and his use of strong willed wives as a vehicle for respect and change is increasingly manifest in Moolaade. Colle must utter the words to recant the sanctuary she has granted the children, and the village leaders manipulate her husband into thinking he has been shown up by his wives. He is not a mean or chauvinistic man by nature. He has never hit any of his wives or children, and in fact even allowed Colle to deny Amasatou's purification. But in a moment of harsh berating he is coerced into whipping Colle in order to force the recantation of her protection. The scene is made public and is a polarizing moment in the community. Sembene uses such violence to mobilize both support for a broad feminist agenda and as a personal narrative between several of the main characters.

A harsh criticism of a practice that should long ago have become obsolete, with Moolaade Sembene has moved beyond questions of national and indigenous glamorization in self-produced media in order to turn the camera on a gravitons issue he clearly feels has universal implications. Moolaade is rough and the dichotomy between genders is a bit too accessible, but never-the-less it is a determined and strong film with intelligent characters, colour, and a relevant broader social commentary.

The second time I watched Moolaade, I was afforded the opportunity to pay more attention to aesthetics and film technique. I think the first time I watched this movie I was so taken by the content and themes that I didn't pay as much attention to the look movie as I did the dialogue, major plot points, and characters. I found then, and still do, that many of the characters were very personable and well-developed, and I was most drawn to Mercenaire and Hadjatou this time around. I also liked Amasatou more during this second viewing. She fluctuates between supporting and rejecting her own past.

Several scenes still affected me this time around, and I find the most disturbing scene to occur during the first purification session when one of the young girls can't pee. Sembene uses this rythmic voice-over of her moaning that makes my skin crawl and makes me desire to rip the tv out of its socket and toss it out the window. It grates and culminates in a short scram in the background that almost seems anti-climactic. That scene gets to me. I also almost cried during the whipping scene and noticed that Amath does cry. Afterwards Hadjatou cracks a little "Be sure to pray for us" joke the following day which lightens the mood a bit, but I ended up feeling very empathetic for Cire. I also get upset during the sex scene when Colle bites her finger so hard, and when the youngest girl (who is protected) gets lured from the haven by her mother in the flashback of the whipping.

I noticed that the flashback scene was colored differently, which worked well, and that Sembene makes great use of the visual correlation between the anthill and the mosque. He often has rows of people weaving throughout them in a sort of visual analogy of two religious traditions merging. The Salinada spend the most time walking between these two features in their bright red costumes which reminded me of blood flowing through them. I don't think that was Semebene's intention, but it looked like that a little bit to me.

I loved the rich colors of this movie, and noticed that the camera moved a lot more than I remembered. Especially around the daily task of preparing grain and food within the interior of the shelter/homes. The village itself felt very intimate to me, and I could get a good grasp of the space. I also liked how Semebene leaves the village to take some shots of the surrounding landscape with brightly-colored lines of people always weaving through it.

Still a fantastic movie on second viewing, and Sembene manages to take a deeply problematic contemporary issue and avoid condescension (sp?) or despair.

-Although it deals with a heavy subject, I still find the film to be full of life and very empowering, when all is said and done.


A-

... Roger Ebert absolutely made the right call in 2004.

Christian! You got to watch it! I'm so relieved you liked it. How'd you get your hands on a good copy? Want to join our club and get other people to watch it?!?!?!?!

It did have a bit of a docu/feel even though its completely pre-written, which I liked, too. I guess that goes along with what snack and Rod said about the feel of the village. Its true, my father's first observation was that he liked how he got such a sense of space from watching the movie. I attributed this feeling to the lack of CGI, but I guess if everyone else picked up on it, its probably more than that. It was shot on location, sure, but Sembene really keeps the camera moving along the interior of the dwellings/shelter where the entire family lives as well as the street running in front of it, the Mosque, and the trail to the fields and wells.

Snack, its funny you mentioned the Bicycle Theif as Semebene first feature-length film (Cart Driver) is based on the Italian story, and many critics have compared the two. You should check it out. Its very different than Moolaade. Not uplifting at all, and much more antagonistic to the effects of globalism and colonial relations.

As do I