October 15, 2021
Those of you who’ve been reading film reviews must’ve noted that the rave today is about a new “Bond, James Bond” (his signature introduction) film released last October 8. The title is “No Time To Die”, yet for the first time in Bond history the film’s star character dies, it’s said.
It’s also said this has sent review writers hopping mad because they’ve known their Bond as forever immortal. Rage rockets are flying at the film producers who’ve ‘killed’ their James.
That strikes me as childish of these reviewers and it reminds me of my days as a tiny tot.
Some of you peers of my time who had the privilege of being in its path remember the VW combi van that used to do the rounds of Rwanda as a mobile film theatre. That was when Rwanda was whole, before she was disembowelled by crazed fiends in 1959 and sent spinning into the abyss till a few gallants came to her rescue in 1994 to lift and place her on an ever-rising pedestal.
But we digress, as we inevitably must because these painful memories are inescapable.
To cut a very long story short, you remember that the screen was a house’s white wall where a long triangle of light was projected. As the whirring sound continued in the van, we toddlers by the wall-side looking up at the part brightened by the light suddenly saw the head of a lion turn and lazily open its mouth. By the time it roared, we were falling over ourselves as we, hot on the heels of our elders, were making a hasty beeline for the bushes.
Don’t ask me if our Rwandan film officials ever found anybody to coax back, convincing them that all was fiction.
Not until 1969 in secondary school did some of us come to know the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) logo for what it is. It had only been picked as the logo for a company that sponsored film-production. Later, word goes, it took on the sponsorship of James Bond films, which we’d now known as thrillers for momentary excitement or escapism, nil else.
Never again at any time did we confuse fiction for reality.
That’s why it boggles the mind how educated adults go ballistic over the death of a fictional movie (today’s lingo) character. This should be the case in the first place because the essence of fiction is to depict reality for it to be credible. None will believe stories that represent immortal humans.
However, if you think those reviewers are naïve for flying off the handle over the death of a fictional film character, you’ve got another think coming.
In actual fact, that MGM lion mascot is purposely designed to send the shivers down the spines of all humans of the lesser worlds. It was picked as king of the jungle (a misnomer) that is the rest of the world, not the West, to cow its inhabitants into blindness. None should see weaknesses of the West.
We ‘third-worlders’ are supposed to be in awe of the superpowers till the end of times; to be screened from the weaknesses and human vulnerabilities of Western Europe and North America, not to mention the genocides that are the foundation of their wealth.
Seann Connery, first actor to play James Bond, of the 1960s and all actors after him were presented as invincible humans who dispatch all lesser humans of other worlds to the hereafter with ease, grace, sophistication, brevity, et al. And, gullible us, we were supposed to cheer ourselves horse. The John Waynes of the 1930s, on horses and with stem guns and crude grenades had equally vanquished similar numbers before.
And it has seemed to work in the third world. Wherever you go in villages, the toughie of the area is known as Rambo/‘Rembo’, in reference to Sylvester Stallone’s portrayal of an unassailable character.
Modern-day similar-vein toughie-character epitomisers are a dime a dozen. Hollywood seems to have been picked as the main forgery workshop of the super-powers from whence their agents are propelled to cow the world.
Luckily, the youth of Africa, a continent that has been the main target of this campaign, are rising to show they have not been in the least hoodwinked. As some of them showed in Montpellier, France, when Emmanuel Macron challenged them to freely state their views of the France-Africa relationship, they are awake and fired up to halt exploitations thereof.
The thorough knowledge and understanding of these exploitations by African youths make this continent proud.
Even then, my opinion is that, for alone braving the strong opinions of these youths, President Macron deserves a cheer. Whatever contrary view of that rencontre many Africans seem to hold, Macron came out better than his fellow Western leaders. Let’s wish him luck in next elections.
Otherwise, these youths showed that Rwanda is not alone in trying to explode the myth of the bloated-up creatures of Hollywood, from whichever part of the world.
When such a creature forgets his place in the kitchens of Rwanda and entertains ideas of being celebrity with licence to mass-massacre compatriots, he is brought down to earth on the hard, cold cement-floor of a prison cell. Let’s rise against these myths!
