How the Partially True, and Definitely Epic, Woman King Left Me Cheering For More
By Zinha
Sitting in comfort with strangers, we shouted, chanted, and cheered for our cinematic heroes who fought for their lives and freedom on the screen. But nothing struck me more than the collective gasp of the audience during the opening scene when we fully took in that this time our action heroes were Black women—African women warriors to be exact: the Agojie.
Woman King, directed by the trailblazing Gina Prince-Bythewood of Love and Basketball (2000) and The Old Guard (2020), opened the Fragments Festival this past weekend at Genesis Cinema. Managing to sneak into the front row, my heart leapt when Prince-Bythewood came on stage to introduce the film. Here was a Black woman director who had been one of the first, if not the first, filmmakers who saw the power and heroics of putting athletic, badass Black women up on the big screen. So, it makes complete sense that Prince-Bythewood championed this action packed, layered, and fierce homage to a fairly true depiction of the Agojie warriors who fought for the kingdom of Dahomey (what is presently known as Benin).
The film starts with an adrenaline-pumping battle scene as the Agojie attack rival warriors who have kidnapped Dahomean and more to enslave and sell to the Europeans. Watching this scene, my mouth dropped open, first with astonishment, and then with glee watching Viola Davis, Lashana Lynch, and Sheila Atim wield their machetes and spears (and lethal talon nails!) as easily as if they were second limbs. Much of Woman King’s promo spotlighted how intense and difficult the actors trained in order to secure the martial arts needed to perform their warrior selves. Their commitment shows. It is also badass to witness. But beyond witnessing these women’s prowess, I found myself impressed, at Prince-Bythewood’s ambition in unearthing and exploring pre-colonial African history (before the late 19th century’s Scramble for Africa), and the economic and political context that the Agojie come from.
As a young Black girl growing up in Harlem, I was lucky to have family and educators who told me stories of freedom fighters and various Black heros. Even as a child well versed in how African-American heroes like Ida B. Wells, Harriet Tubman, then John Lewis, the Black Panthers and Assata Shakur shaped our legacy, there was a dense cloud of obscurity about our heroic diasporic predecessors at the point where the transatlantic slave trade intersected with African history. It was only my father, who reminded me that there was an abundance of African Regents, some of whom were powerful and mighty sovereigns, who had been feared, traded with, and respected by various European rulers.
For most of my high school years, my dad, a historian, was working on his book, African Kings, Black Slaves (2018). So, it was through him that I began to understand the impossibility of a simplified history of the slave trade as it has been taught (the ridiculous notion that Europeans arrive, Africans cower in fear and then ultimately betray one another into slavery). Instead, it was quite the opposite. African regions (located in the lands that we now know as Ghana, Benin, Togo, and much of Western Africa) were led by powerful sovereigns that were not only recognized, but also venerated by the Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch and English. But beyond this, these African Kings were engaged in politically complex collaborations, rivalries, and relationships with one another. African Sovereignty and its political implications were the key conditions that led to the expansion and structural foundations of the slave trade. And this was what felt most mind blowing about Woman King: that the film offers an entry point for audiences of all ages to be challenged in our simple Euro-centric narratives. By centralizing a cast of dark-skinned, politically powerful, and nuanced characters with various positionalities in an evolving African State, Prince-Bythewood, and her talented cast commit themselves wholeheartedly to depicting an unsung history.
But while watching the film, and surrendering myself to its adrenaline and energy, I also was left with so many questions about if and how the machinery of Hollywood Blockbusters and Americanized narratives constrained it. The movie centers on Viola Davis’ character Nanisca, the powerful and bold general who we come to see as a freedom fighter. In the movie, Nanisca sees the wrongs of the slave trade as she struggles to recover from her own traumatic captivity experience. But in fact, while Nanisca’s existence has been documented, her female warriors also helped the regent of Dahoomey, King Ghezo (who is played by a delightful and hilarious John Boyega) expand his regional dominance through enslaving and trading Africans even after the British had abolished the slave trade in its empire.
Joining this main plot tension, there was the subplot of young Nawi (played by the impressive Thuso Mbedu) coming of age as a young Agojie warrior and struggling to respect her superiors. The film uncovered an alarming (if not totally predictable) kinship connection between her and Nanisca. I wished that the sweet girlhood trio played out between Nawi and her two close warrior friends had more screentime. And of course in line with Hollywood’s insistence upon interracial romance (read Susan Courtney for a deep dive into Hollywood’s fantasies of miscegenation), the movie followed the mixed race don cassonova, Malik, on his first journey to West Africa as he cast his lover boy eyes towards his new Agojie crush. Please @ me for this if you disagree, but by the end of the film I did question if we would have noticed if his plotline had been entirely cut from the film.
With all these plots and subplots flying around, I found myself wanting more cinematic space to breathe and fall in love with these characters, the kingdoms and landscapes beautifully shot in South Africa, and the larger story they came together to tell. It felt like there was too much life, too much nuance, and at times, too much story to fit into one film. In particular, I felt at times that Prince-Bythewood wanted to empower us more than stay true to historical fact. But I immediately recognized and loved the grandness that this film opens gates to. It feels limitless as I sensed the abundance of stories that underlie this one.
As we watched the film, I could feel myself and the mostly Black audience members who sat in that theater lean forward to cheer on and root for the Agojie. It felt thrilling, exhilarating, almost sinful! Or perhaps like we couldn’t quite believe that we had Black women heroes to cheer on with the certainty that they will win as action heroes should. Even after the success of Django Unchained and Black Panther, it still feels new as Hollywood has historically only presented sad and heartbreaking stories from this same era. Rallying around this cast of heroes, I was struck by how this moment felt like a first breath of air even though it told a true story. The true, if incomplete, story of a powerful African kingdom and its women warriors. I applaud Prince-Bythewood and Davis for pushing for this film to be told with the distribution of power as it historically was, they backed a film that redirects the public consciousness and optics towards more complex and holistic Black and African histories. As a Black American, I felt a familiar hurt arise because I am proof that not all these histories had the happy endings of this one. But at the same time these screened moments of Black politics, of Black power and royalty, Black fierceness, kinship, love, and stubborn spirit are true. True stories still to be filmed, still in need to be told.
Zinha
Insta: @emmazinha
Website: www.emmazinha.com
Zinha (fka Emma Zinha) is an afrofuturist director and filmmaker born and raised in New York and now living in London.
