All we know at the outset is that we're looking at the face of a woman in a parked car. Her eyes remain hidden behind sunglasses. Her outfit suggests she may have been driving home from a party.
Nyoni hints at mystery when we see a body lying on the side of the darkened road where the driver has parked. We'll learn that the body belongs to the driver's uncle, a habitual abuser of the young women in his family.
As the film's issues begin to clarify, Nyoni (I Am Not a Witch) parcels out the story in gradual but assured fashion, depicting the toll sexual abuse has taken on several young women while exposing the family dynamics that allowed the abuse to happen.
The uncle's funeral provides a setting for Nyoni to explore the secrecy and unacknowledged pain generated by a patriarchal, tradition-bound society. The women defer to the men, cater to their demands for food, and, in one instance, wash the feet of an elder.
In lesser hands, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl could have been preachy and obvious. But Nyoni's style feels casual and unforced; her characters aren't writing feminist position papers. They're living in a fully realized environment. Nyoni feels no need to italicize their pain.
In as much as the movie has a center, it’s filled by Shula (Susan Chardy) the young woman who discovered her uncle’s body during the picture’s eerie opening. We never get a definitive answer on what happened to the uncle, although we do know that his remains were found close to a nearby brothel.
Shula's boisterous cousin Nsansa (Elizabeth Chisela) appears early on, mocking the uncle's attempts at sexual advances. Later, we'll meet Bupe (Esther Singini), a younger cousin — also abused — who has been hospitalized.
Powerful scenes punctuate preparation for the uncle's funeral, revealing differing generational responses to the incidents of abuse about which the family remained silent.
When the aunties of the family gather in a pantry with Shula and Nsansa, they confess their knowledge of the pain the abuse caused. They lament the powerlessness they felt at not being able to offer protection. But they've also upheld the order that has kept everyone from speaking about the past.
In a late-picture scene, the entire family gathers to discuss what should happen to the uncle's property. How will the abuser's widow (Norah Mwansa) be treated? Don't expect fairness.
A director of Zambian/Welsh background, Nyoni eventually explains the movie's title, which feeds into an ending that serves both as a wake-up call and a cry of desperation. It's a fitting conclusion for a movie that never hectors or feels any need to clobber its audience with a message.
Deeply embedded in the culture it depicts, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl stands as a fine and truthfully rendered work. And lest you think that its resonance is limited by some sort of parochial Africanism, it's worth remembering that there's no continent where shame, denial, and avoidance don't wield their repressive powers.
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