Review: On the Rumba River

A documentary about famous Congolese musician Antoine "Wendo" Kolosoy, On the Rumba River is filled with warm, intimate close-ups - of Wendo and his compatriots' weathered countenances; of hands playing percussive instruments and strumming guitars; and of bodies joyously swaying in motion to the sounds of Wendo and his band's rumba music. Visual proximity to Wendo lends compassionate heart to this portrait of the now-83-year-old singer, whose sprawling story includes discrimination at the hands of Belgian colonialists, homelessness, and condemnation of his music by the church. Nonetheless, despite director Jacques Sarasin's physical nearness to Wendo, there's something of a remove to his beautifully photographed proceedings, primarily because the film provides only skimpy details on its subject's myriad experiences while almost completely avoiding any substantive discussion of the 30-year dictatorship (under Mobutu Sese Seko) and ongoing civil war that have so profoundly colored the man's life.

Devoid of a timeline that might have helped filled in some of the blanks, the film's depiction of Wendo's artistic perseverance, the communal camaraderie that his music engenders, and the Congo's chaotic history is rooted in striking visual snapshots, be they of rousing performances, of vibrant murals portraying past rulers, or of ravaged edifices and forlorn faces. On the Rumba River's central hook is Wendo's 2004 attempt to reassemble his former band for a concert, an endeavor that affords a view of the country's decaying landscape, and is interspersed with both confessional interviews as well as a staged encounter between Wendo and his nagging wife. This latter sequence, in which Wendo defends his non-existent professional earning power by mourning the deaths of many former colleagues and his consequent inability to nab a record deal, shows the artist as tough and resolute, even if it nonetheless fails to cohesively jibe with the rest of the engagingly artless non-fiction footage.

As befitting the fact that Wendo's youth was spent traveling up and down the Congo river as a boat mechanic, director Sarasin employs a variety of tracking shots - of the buildings along a Kinshasa street, and of a tributary filled with festering, abandoned ships - to communicate a sense of inexorable movement that's in harmony with Wendo's eventful life saga and the continued deterioration of his native home. Elegant and unaffected, cinematographer Remon Fremont's compositions express the lingering sorrow of political upheaval and the stabbing pain and resentment of persecution. Such bitterness and grief, however, are only part of the film's emotional scope, as its musical numbers exude a joy and freedom that's far more sweet than sour. The centerpiece gig, featuring Wendo and many of his long-time partners-in-melody, is a particularly energized spectacle of blissful contentment. Sarasin's camera situates itself directly in the midst of its grooving performers, enthusiasm emanating not only from their bright smiles but from their instruments, which sing with a hopeful vitality at odds with the misery lurking outside their cramped venue.

The confrontation between environmental ugliness and sonic beauty is part of the point of Wendo's music, and eventually becomes a lynchpin of Sarasin's film as well. Immediately following the band's light, lively reunion show, Wendo - while dolefully gazing at a Congo river littered with decrepit, abandoned boats which symbolize the country's wholesale neglect - laments a country torn asunder by leaders and politicians more interested in enriching themselves than tending to their fellow citizens. It's a forceful juxtaposition of tight-knit community and unjust disregard, amplified by the absence of any superfluous or manipulative aesthetic embellishment. True, the director's refusal to provide basic details about some of his featured musicians, as well as the Congo's rocky past, can at times leave one wanting. But ultimately, On the Rumba River makes up for its lack of informational depth with stirring poignancy.