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Friday, June 24, 2011

For the sake of not having to write the same intro a million different ways throughout the rest of time, just know that this column avoids the overly long and sometimes dull process of full film reviews and instead opts to break things down based on what I thought going in, what happened while I was there and what I learned at the end of it all.  Thanks for reading!




The Breakdown - Viva Riva!

The Impression:


This is the first movie made in the Democratic Republic of the Congo since the 1970s. Where one might think a director from the D.R.C. would make a movie about the terrible nature of these last war-torn twenty years, Viva Riva! is a sweaty, passion-fueled crime story. I love a good passion-fueled crime story, especially when they’re set in strange exotic places I’ve never laid eyes upon.


The Reality:

If Djo Munga had purchased a Super-8 camera and walked the streets of Kinshasa filming this unseen world, I would’ve paid ten dollars for it. Instead he cooks up a delightfully brutal bit of Africa Noir. The titular Riva, he of the Viva, is, for all purposes, a hustler. Long before the events of the film he’s disappeared from his hometown, and the capital of the DRC, Kinshasa, and now he returns with a twinkle in his eye and gallons upon gallons upon gallons of seemingly pilfered gas. As Kinshasa is in the middle of a massive gas crisis and fit-to-burst with unguzzling vehicles, Riva is in a pretty good place. Until, with booze on his breath and fire in his belly, he seduces the wife of a notorious gangster, and, well, we know how that goes. Munga has, in effect, followed the lines of the classic crime film to a tee - the femme fatale, the blustering anti-hero, the swaggering villain - but in transplanting it to the sultry nights of the DRC, he’s made a film that pops. Kinshasa shakes with an uncontrollable wildness and the exploits of Riva and crew seem always just inches away from gunfire and violence. Sex rests casually on the hips of every man and woman, and Munga has no restraint in showering the viewer with graphic sexuality. And though the film is brutal, the intensity of its violence makes the screen feel as if it itself is sweating with paranoia and anticipation and we the audience can only grip the edge of our seat and hope that everything turns out all right.


The Lesson:

The crime genre is a beautiful thing. So many locales, so many ways to rob someone.



- Noah Sanders -



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