Movie Review: "They Will Have To Kill Us First"

"They Will Have To Kill Us First": B.  Imagine a poor landlocked region of almost a half million square miles on the Dark Continent, somewhat shaped like a figure 8.  Then turn its north/south axis forty-five degrees to the right, put it in the middle of the Sahara Desert, and what you end up with is the country of Mali.  Despite their desolate third world surroundings, the people of Mali, most of whom are Muslim, are a happy, peaceful population who rely on music as an important source of joy. They Will Have To Kill Us First is a documentary which takes us through a recent three year period, commencing 2012, when the northern half of the country was overrun by jihadists who imposed a new, super-conservative set of laws on the citizens, including a prohibition against listening to or playing music.

The film focuses on four artists, the two most prominent of whom are the very likable Khaira Arby and Fadimatah "Disco" Oumar.  Both women are optimistic that one day they will play instrumental roles in bringing their native music back to their homeland.  For much of the story they are exiled from "the north" and must live either in the southern section of Mali, where its capital, Bamako, is located, or in neighboring Burkina Faso.  In spite of their setbacks, they have smiles on their faces as they are interviewed over the course of three years by the filmmakers.  Khaira's dream is to return to her home city of Timbuktu, located in the north, and put on a free concert for those who lived through the turmoil and suffering under the invaders' regime.  While they wait for the French army, and later the UN forces, to eradicate the Islamic extremists, Khaira and Disco carry on singing and playing.  These strong women do so with joy, and a touch of defiance.  Music is like a religion to these spiritual women; they will not be denied.

The other two artists interviewed at various times throughout the film are Moussa Sidi and the band Songhoy Blues.  The former, usually seen in his purple robe and turban, speaks of his wife whom he left behind in the northern city of Gao and who now might be in prison.  Strangely, he does not seem too worried.  Moussa's social skills, at least in front of a camera, are nearly at the opposite end of the spectrum to those of the two featured women.  One reason for his reticence is that he is a Tuareg, i.e., a member of the nomadic race that is indigenous to the Sahara.  This makes him noticeably different from most of the residents of Bamako, whose ethnicity is Bambara, so he keeps a low profile.   He is unintentionally funny.

The fourth artist, Songhoy Blues, is comprised of four musicians from various parts of Mali.  They came together in Bamako.  Unlike Khaira, Disco and Moussa, they choose to make their mark in London rather than wait for the northern section of Mali to be restored to peace.  Thus one questions why they are included in the documentary, other than to show how different artists handled the disruption to their lives in different ways.  The music of Soghoy Blues is the most accessible and, to my ears, most enjoyable of any on the soundtrack.  It's a fusion of reggae and blues, heavy on acoustic guitars and percussion.  So, I don't blame director Johanna Schwartz for including the quartet.

Although the salvation and restoration of music is the impetus for the film, I found the historical details for this remote country even more attention grabbing.  The 2012 turmoil started when the Tuareg people of the north rebelled against the national government in an attempt to form their own independent state.  That uprising made the north vulnerable to the jihadists who poured in, overwhelmed their opposition and established their version of Sharia law.  The documentary includes rare footage of the extremists' exploits, including a gruesome infliction of corporal punishment, albeit distantly shot (thank goodness).

This movie is part of the 35th annual Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival.  Unless one buys a season pass or a discounted six pack, individual tickets are priced at $13.  That is fairly steep, yet the Uptown Theater was almost filled to capacity for the film's first showing last Friday evening.  To take the bite out of the hefty entry fee, Songhoy Blues showed up in person after the screening for a twenty minute Q & A.  French is their native language, although one of the three also spoke English.  The band's manager who stood next to them assisted with translation.  At least three of the young men seemed eager to share their story, and required little prompting by the Festival moderator.  The band, which was booked at Ice House right after the show, is on a short American tour.  The Festival is screening the film one more time, tomorrow at 4:35 at the Uptown.