User Reviews

Southern Democratic republic of Congo, the present. Kabwita, a farmer, dreams of building a house for himself, his wife and small daughters. To this end he fells a tree, builds a charcoal oven transforming said timber into charcoal, then walks the charcoal on an adapted, overloaded bicycle to sell in the nearest town, some fifty kilometres from his village. This is a slow burning (excuse the pun) documentary but be patient with it allow the images and sound to pull you in, this viewer found it mesmerising. What's striking is how even in the midst of abject poverty and this film is concerned with some of the poorest people on the planet, there's nonetheless at many times an extraordinary beauty. Whether it's the close in shots of the bike loaded up with sacks of charcoal, intricately bound that take on the appearance of some sort of contemporary sculpture or artwork, the chiaroscuro shots of the town at night, or the single electric lightbulb in the village, there's a strange beauty. the African landscape is shown to great effect and this is a landscape very much affected by humans, it's shown without sentiment, it's clear what was once lush tropical forest has disappeared, in it's place are scraggy young trees and dusty roads. The camerawork is astonishing, close in work that pulls you in with a visceral quality, you almost feel Kabwita's muscles as he pushes his load some fifty kilometres to sell in town. The film's lightened with humour, once in town he transforms from the peasant to the shrewd businessman as he sells his cargo, his interactions with various customers, especially the market women, are very entertaining to watch. I estimated that for three weeks work of producing the charcoal then the labour involved bringing it to the town, he'll net less than 100 dollars or euros. He looks at sheets of corrugated steel - each costs around 20 USD, and he will need fifteen of these sheets just to roof his self build house. Do the maths. Even though they're living in the most abject circumstances everyone in the film is afforded respect and dignity, a refreshing change from the usual poverty porn. Emmanuel Gras has made a unique documentary which feels more like a journey film. There's a spiritual element to it, my reading was that it shows our insignificance in the great scheme of things but nonetheless how determined people are, the human spirit, our search for meaning and significance in an indifferent universe, an apparently meaningless and purposeless world. Watch it yourself and see what you think, this is very much a thinking persons movie, everyone will get something different from it.

This extremely quiet and methodically paced documentary, directed by Emmanuel Gras, will probably appeal to only the most patient of cinephiles.

It focuses on a 28-year-old Congolese man Kabwita Kasongo, who lives in a rural and remote area of the country. We will follow him as he laboriously chops down a large tree with an axe and prepares an oven where he will make charcoal (makala in Swahili), in the hopes of taking it to the city to make enough money to begin building a home for his family.

The exhausting and dangerous 50 kilometer trek from Kabwita's hometown of Walemba to the urban market is done with him pushing a hugely overloaded bicycle over often difficult terrain. Once there, he will have to contend with possible buyers looking for discounts and bargains. Kabwita will often have to rely on his faith in God to get him through his travails.

Overall, the stark realities of a man trying for a better life for himself and his family through extremely hard work is the centerpiece here. I read in one pro critic review that Gras helped Kabwita and his family achieve some of his life's goals, so that's a positive.

The clock rules the world these days, and it has subjugated our lives: faster, faster, faster... Speed reading courses, speed writing courses - everywhere, speed has become of great importance. And every day, we're trying to do even more in one minute than yesterday, simplifying the daily routine as much as possible. Instead of writing a comment, you can like a post. Instead of replying to a comment, you can now like a comment. We're trying to express our opinion in 140 characters - we don't have time for long reads. And behind all this race that determines the rhythm of our lives, we cannot even imagine that somewhere time and space are perceived completely differently.

Makala opens a window to another universe, where all that a person has is his body: hands that can hold an ax and legs that can overcome kilometers step by step. And this body contains extraordinaire willpower and a thirst for life. Incredible shots of nature, sandy roads, sunrises, and sunsets create an amazing atmosphere that can change our understanding of a human: to remember everything that is hidden inside us, that we have forgotten and simplified as unnecessary thanks to modern technologies. This beautiful and unhurried film reminds us that the perception of time can be different. It sobers us up, reproaching us for forgetting the true value of things. Makala means "coal" in Swahili. But I wouldn't be surprised if the translation sounded like "patience." In any case, it takes an incredible amount of patience to make the charcoal, which is the protagonist's livelihood. Patience, which with the advent of civilization, we have long lost. We are too accustomed to getting everything at once: service 24 hours a day and seven days a week, home delivery, one hundred million applications for all occasions - from ordering a taxi to translating a text. And somewhere, a person like us gets up at dawn, takes an ax, and goes to chop a tree down. One day, two days. One week, two weeks. "An electric saw would probably have done it in less than an hour," runs through my mind. And then this man walks. Day, night, day, night. Cars and motorcycles are passing by. And he walks. And they are passing by. "But you would have gotten there in less than an hour if you were sitting in the car," I hear an anxious voice in my head. But he keeps walking. And you walk with him. And every minute, you get more imbued with respect for him, in whom, perhaps, there is more human than in many of us. To a man whose living conditions might cause quite a shock for a lot of people, yet who is nevertheless devoid of even a drop of anger or aggression, who is addressing every stranger as "brother" or "sister." And you wish that everything would work out for him and that the God to whom he prays would hear him because he asks for so little.

Makala reminds us once again that our world is a world of contrasts. It's a very poetic story about a man and the power hidden in him. If you think that documentaries are not for you, then this is the film that might change your views on this genre. So, if you get a chance, check it out - it's worth it.

A cameraman holding an obvious steadicam camera accompanies a Congo village man as he chops down a large ancient beautiful tree to turn into charcoal to sell in a nearby large town to earn money to mostly buy tin roofing for a house he plans to build. Not shown, due to lots of editing, is that he eventually makes around 8 trips pushing his bicycle laden w/bags of charcoal. On this heavily travelled dirt road a couple of men demand money or a bag of charcoal for him to proceed (oddly the audio is quite clear whatever the camera distance). Several problems: The French cameraman should have intervened & should have had other crew such as security with him on this filming journey. Throughout, since the white man holding a steadicam is obvious, you don't know to what extent natural behavior is replaced w/artificial (to the camera) behavior. How he overcame flat tires & spilled load was never shown - intervention perhaps? In Special Features Q & A the Film Society Lincoln Center moderator is more concerned with displaying his complex English vocabulary to a Frenchman whose English is shaky at best (a French translator would have been better). He fails to ask about the theft; other villager life details or even what compensation from the doc goes to the Congolese man.