Shake Hands with the Devil review

(A review of the film Shake Hands with the devil wihch I wrote for Business Rwanda)

Shake hands with the devil premiered at Hotel Des Milles Collines on Monday 24th March as one of the prime attractions of the Rwanda Film Festival. Having assumed there would be some kind of stampede, I turned up one hour early and was very surprised to see only a decent-sized crowd showing up at the Hotel for the film. The vast majority of the crowd were expatriates- a fact which does not augur well for the Festival’s aims of bringing cinema to the masses.

Shake hands with the devil is based on Romeo Dallaire’s book of the same name. It chronicles Dallaire’s struggles with the United Nations during the genocide as the Head of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda and how his employers betrayed him and the country when the killings began. It presents a vivid picture of a country descending into anarchy and how the powers-that-be stood by and not only allowed it to happen, but virtually facilitated it by leaving the United Nations mission in the country as nothing more than spectators and doing everything in their power to ensure that Dallaire could do nothing to stem the killings.

The film starts many years after the genocide with Dallaire in his psychiatrist’s office as he looks back on the tragic events he was caught up in. The Psychiatrist is trying to get him to open up and he looks shattered and empty as he struggles to put his anguish into words. It’s an interesting and unorthodox way of framing the story although it may divide audiences who may find it disorienting.

Dallaire arrives in Rwanda full of hope and optimism and the film does a good job of handling the growing sense of doom as things turn dark and he begins to realize that it is all about to go horribly wrong. When Juvenal Habyarimana’s plane crashes, the stage is set for carnage. Dallaire struggles to convince the UN to bring in more troops but as the killings escalate, the United Nations-in a truly breathtaking display of incompetence- instead strips away his powers and ability to act and he is forced to watch helplessly on the sidelines as the catastrophe unfolds. In one chilling scene, Dallaire babbles on the phone to the UN Secretary-General about the need for more soldiers only to be told bluntly that his mission is over. The film reveals the tragic paradox of the United Nations Mission to Rwanda- once there was no peace to keep, the mission was considered as terminated and yet obviously it should have been the other way round. What was the point of having those troops on the ground if they were supposed to withdraw as soon as violence broke out?

The film has a constant sense of terror and the dimly-lit and tiny rooms in which Dallaire spends a lot of his time at nights give the audience a good sense of the claustrophobia and helplessness he and his soldiers felt. The culpability of the United Nations, the United States and France is also well-explored and in one good scene, Dallaire scolds a French soldier about the moral bankruptcy of his Country’s policy to Rwanda. The film also contains some brutal scenes of violence- some scenes are so shocking that the audience at Milles Collines audibly gasped several times. One in particular- a young woman slipping and falling in a pool of blood- seemed to affect the audience more than any other.

The film has its flaws. The editing occasionally feels a bit rushed and scenes are sometimes cut-off with the characters virtually in mid-sentence. The psychiatrist angle is also not explored well enough- it is a very interesting concept, but the film does not use it as often as it should and it could have served as a very interesting story device if properly explored. The last line in the film-‘Keep me alive- that’s an order!’- is a poor one and it feels very out-of-place. Overall however the film is a triumph and it also benefits from the absence of big-name Hollywood actors who might have overshadowed the proceedings. Roy Dupuis (I am reliably informed by a friend that he is the ‘Quebecois Tom Cruise’) stars as General Dallaire and he has clearly learnt from the Ed Norton school of restrained acting (he also bears an uncanny resemblance to Dallaire). Many other actors would have been tempted to over-act the role and do an ‘Al Pacino’ but Dupuis underplays the role and achieves good results. His face only hints at the emotions raging in him and this makes him a lot more believable. One of the film’s most memorable scenes has Dallaire sitting in a field drinking a large bottle of wine and trying to drown his sorrows in drink while imagining himself surrounded by some of the people he failed to save. He looks utterly broken and defeated and it is the most poignant scene of the film. Shake hands with the devil is a tale of tragedy, cowardice and heroism but shows that sometimes heroism is not enough.

Eironea

I was talking to an English guy the other day. He was new in Rwanda and was trying to set up a Company. As we chatted, he discussed a phenomenon I'd heard about before. I call it 'number-snobbery' but I can think of several stronger terms I could put in its place.
"So I came to Rwanda and everyone was telling me I needed a local sim card" He told me "So I bought one and tried to use it and then a funny thing happened. Nobody was picking up my calls. When I put in my England number and called the same people. they picked up the phone instantly."
You see MTN run out of the '08' series of numbers so there is a new '03' series. Unfortunately if you've got this kind, you might as well have leprosy to everybody else because of the stigma attached. Infact you will probably have a more socially fulfilling life with leprosy. Many people just ignore calls from '03' numbers. Turn that over in your mind for a moment- imagine someone sitting there with their phone ringing and then making a conscious effort not to pick it up even though he doesn't know who is calling.Truly bizzare.
I mean It's just a number! A frickin number! To actively ignore someone because they are calling from that number...words fail me. The number means nothing. You are therefore being spectacularily irrational. What does having that number mean? For that matter, what does having a '08' number mean? Implicit in this is a judgement on a person's character because of a number they are calling from. Someone is basically saying the caller is not worth their because they dont have those oh-so-wonderful '08' numbers. Again, highly irrational. People usually have to sell millions of records or win Oscar Awards before they develop that kind of ego.
It's fascinating to realize how widespread this kind of snobbery is. A brave new world in which MTN running out of '08' numbers has inadvertently created a raft of second-class citizens. Fascinating because it makes you realize quite how adaptable snobbery is- how easily it fits into changing social conditions.

The merits of strategically applied insanity

As part of an occasional series I run on this blog, here are mini-reviews of the books I've been reading recently. I'm currently reading Collapse by Jared Diamond about what causes previously succesful societies to collapse. Suprisingly Big Brother is not included, but I guess there is still time.

Dream Brother (David Browne): Interesting book about father-and-son music legends Tim Buckley and Jeff Buckley. Tim died young- a cult figure who died of a drug overdose before he had become truly famous. Jeff who never really knew his father also grew up to be an accomplished guitarist and incredible vocalist and released only one album Grace before he too died young, drowning in a river in Memphis after going for a night swim and then being carried away by the current. Both men became a lot more famous after their death especially Jeff- Grace is now considered one of the most influential albums of the nineties and for good reason-it's bloody good. The most engaging part of the book is the beginning which chronicles the last few hours of Jeff's life. It makes you realize all the little things that separate life from death- in this case, Jeff and his friend drove off looking for their rehearsal room and then gave up and decided to spend the evening by the river which ultimately claimed Jeff. The two left just as Jeff's manager was running out to give them directions to the house. On the way, they stopped at a friend's bar to ask for directions but the bar just happened to be shut that night so they proceeded to the river out of boredom. Had any of those two things turned out differently- had the manager got to them on time or had the bar been open- Jeff would not have perished that night. Tiny things but they made all the difference.

Half of a yellow sun (Chimanda Ngozi)Everyone's been raving about this book and its pretty good- the characters-trapped in the Biafra war and praying desperately for a victory which will never come- are believable and as the book goes on, some of them are put in situations in which they inevitably have to violate their moral codes and then have to justify everything later. Occasionally chilling, and frequently funny what hangs over the story is an impending sense of doom. It's in a class of books which I like to call The-shit-is-going-to-hit-the-fan literature.

Rogue Trader (Nick Leeson)The true story about how one man single-handedly brought down one of Britain's most poweful banks- all the way from Singapore. I'm not particularily interested in the stock market, but the book dragged me into that world and kept me gripped even if it was a world I did not understand. You know how the story is going to end but the suspense is occasionally quite brutal. Leeson basically hid huge losses from his employers by hiding them in a secret error account that he never showed them but the brutality of the Asian market meant that those losses grew to astronomical figures even as he fought hard to control them. His Bosses were quite content to let him do things their way. Their relaxed hands-off attitude ultimately allowed him to continue hiding the losses until everything came crashing down and he lost them something like half a billion Dollars. Auditors came and went but Leeson bluffed his way past them with a mixture of luck and sheer genius. He was eventually caught while on the run with his wife and sentenced to six years in prison in Singapore. Even though he broke the law, it is hard not to feel sorry for him. His adoration for his wife Lisa also provides many pages of aww-how-sweet kind of prose but sadly she divorced him while he was in prison so there was no happy ending for the poor bastard(It happened after the book came out so the divorce isnt covered here) Utterly fascinating.

The English (Jeremy Paxman) If you have never seen Jeremy Paxman in action- for BBC2's current affairs programme Newsnight- then you've missed one of the greatest pleasures on Television. Paxman is so grumpy and ruthless he makes Hard Talk look like Teletubbies. He famously asked Tony Blair the same question thirteen times in an interview because the PM was being evasive and he also had a very famous encouter with the then-home Secretary Michael Howard. Another time he was pressured by the BBC into reading the weather forecast on his show(which he didnt want to do) and he retaliated by giving quite possibly the funniest weather forecast in the history of mankind live on air ("It is going to rain except in places where it will not..." etc) They didnt bother him after that. This book is his meditation on the English culture- their history, literature and why they have all that beef for the French. It's a very interesting piece of work and one I'd recommend to anyone interested in an intellectual look at the English psyche. It's also written in accessible, informal prose so it makes for very pleasurable reading.

Africa: A modern history (Guy Arnold) At well over 900 pages, it would be an understatement to say this book kept me busy. (Infact I used to get a work-out just picking it up and carrying it to the living room) Its a broad account of post-independence Africa with an in-depth analysis of the more spectacular basket cases. Arnold tries to be upbeat but the book is an unrelenting tale of woe. Heavy reading both literally and metaphorically.

A Mad world my masters (John Simpson) Simpson was-and probably still is actually- the BBC's world affairs editor and this is a collection of his travel stories- dealing with rebels in Colombia, watching a man have his hand cut off for theft in Iran, meeting Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan before he became the global figure he is now, meeting Bokassa in exile, interviewing Amin while one of his testicles was hanging out of his shorts...This is quite simply the best book I read this year. I cannot recommend it enough. I'm certainly not going to give you my copy though- don't even ask.

Radiohead:hysterical and useless:(Martin Clarke): Readers of this blog will be well aware of my admiration for Radiohead. This book chronicles their rise from Oxford students to one of the most influential and best-loved bands in history. The title is dodgy (Its from their 1997 song Let Down) and the book is sadly lacking in depth. There's just not enough for a Radiohead fan to sink their teeth into although there are enough fascinating tidbits to keep you reading. Overall this seems like a missed opportunity. And Blow out isnt crap dude!

Closer and closer to the madding crowds

I have a strange relationship with Bourbon Cafe. On the one hand I do appreciate its ambience- the serene feeling when you are in there that you are being held by giant, soothing hands like the guys in the Will Self short story Sharing, Caring who live in a world where your every emotional need is taken care of by giant human-like robots. You can almost hear a brook running and birds twittering but not quite- this is Kigali after all, not a postcard jungle in Tibet. And to get a seat you pretty much have to hurt somebody else going for it- the place is in serious demand. What did Yogi Berra once say? "Nobody goes there anymore-it's too crowded." I think that's quite profound in its own way.
The first time I ate there, I liked the food. The burger was good, but it didnt start a revolution (Although to be fair, which burgers have?) The chips looked haunted and out of place but they were decent. It was a satisfying experience although that may have partly been due to the presence of my sister and a riotous cousin. I was however vigorously opposed to the idea of having a single muffin cost 800 Francs. What was that madness about? How can a muffin cost that much money? It's just wrong on so many levels.
And then I went back to use the internet which is when things kicked off. With my trusty work laptop, I sat there and tried vainly to connect to the net. I ordered a hot chocolate while I waited but I may as well have ordered from the spring of the fountain of life- an hour later there was still no connection. While I waited I realized how outnumbered the staff were- it was like the charge of the light brigade. I heard two white people complain that they had been waiting an hour, and I figured that if they couldnt get served then there was trouble indeed. They were woefully under-equipped for the volume of customers in there. I wouldnt have been too suprised if they had cowered behind the counter and waved white flags of surrender. Meanwhile the hot chocolate arrived and it was so delicious, my taste buds did a little sound-of-music rendition. I could have written a symphony about it-after all a Scottish composer once wrote a symphony based on the away goals rule after watching a Champions League football game involving Celtic. Something about being fascinated with misplaced energy.
After a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth- sackcloth and ash were too expensive- I finally logged on. Thirty minutes later it was off again. I wandered over to the counter and asked to be reconnected to the net.
"You need to order another drink" I was told
"But I've been online for less than thirty minutes" I wailed "And I'd been waiting for an hour" (I just about resisted the temptation to add "and you know this- MAN!")
"You need to buy another drink" He repeated robotically. I was almost afraid he would ask me if I was Sarah Connor.
"I bought a drink" I said through gritted teeth "And all I want is a few more minutes"
Guess what he said? Come on, just guess?
I wandered over shaking my head. Did time become distorted in this place? He was clearly in a completely different time dimension. MEanwhile I had been on ordinary time but was now trapped in Bourbon Standard Time. I looked at my watch and sure enough, it had frozen.
"I think we need to leave" I told my companion with growing panic. We stumbled out of there in a jiffy. The taste of hot chocolate and injustice was still strong on my tongue.

When the mad bears demand honey

Advertising and hyperbole-Kigali style:

-GREATEST LANGUAGES SCHOOL- Apparently this exists somewhere in Kigali although quite which awards it has won to take on such a grand name have sadly not been revealed. Or is it more of a tribute to the languages rather than the School itself?It captures an interesting dilemma. If you want to start up a Languages school in Kigali, what do you do
a) Give it a generic name like KIGALI LANGUAGE SCHOOL and put out posters telling people they can learn English or whatever.
b) Call it GREATEST LANGUAGES SCHOOL and make it sound like a cross between the Oracle of Delphi and a MENSA get-together.
This is Kigali- you go for (b)

-ABC TOILET PAPER- FOR YOUR BEST CHOOSE- Crimes against the English language are legion here, but this still takes the biscuit. For starters, its embazoned on the back of a truck in huge letters and driven by a man who may very well be named Smug MrSmugg on the basis of the oh-so smug grin on his face. He wouldnt be so smug if he knew what we knew.

-KIGALI BOOK CENTER- I saw this sign sometime ago and I dashed in, excited that a new book store had opened. Turns out that there were no books there- computers and stationery yes, but books? None in sight. A bookstore without books struck me as an almost zen idea-You could achieve enlightenment just contemplating that notion.

-LAS VEGAS!- I like to think I'm pretty good at Geography which is why I'm baffled by the fact that there are taxis in this city heading to Las Vegas- at least if the conductor's words are anything to go by (And he's not subtle by any means- 'LAS VEGAS! LAS VEGAS!' is about as subtle as he gets while he calls for passengers) It sounds like a long trip to me. I'd recommend plenty of supplies.

-BUSINESSMEN WHO WIELD THE SWORD OF RIGHTEOUSNESS AND TRUTH- A recent Sunday Times Interview provided an interview with one of Kigali's leading Businessmen. There were too many delights in the interview so a summary wouldnt begin to do it justice, but the introduction alone was worth the price of the paper- the interviewee had apparently been voted 'best truthful Businessman' in the world which-we were informed- came with a trophy. I'm seriously stumped here- language violations aside, does this trophy actually exist? Whats the criteria for winning and being nominated? There's some Alice-in-Wonderland stuff going down there and I for one want to know what it is. Oh and we've also got a Grammy-award winning singer in this country according to the same paper. Now I know Miss Jojo is pretty good, but when the hell did she win a frickin Grammy Award and why wasnt the rest of the country informed? Are we just giving our own artists Grammy Awards without any of them actually receiving any?

Don't raise your mojo pin to the sky

I'm becoming quite fond of The New Times in a kind of 'Oh-no-they didnt!' kind of way. For example I am completely baffled by their fondness for the expression 'throw off' as in 'The Tennis tournament will throw off this Sunday'. It's a regular staple in the Sports Section and is presumably used because they figure if 'kick-off' is a word then 'throw-off' can be used in the same sense. Unfortunately it means something completely different which kind of undermines the story and takes it into a Twilight-Zone territory. That's the thing about the paper these days- its now a matter of interpretation because you cant really be sure that you know what the story is saying. It is a fascinating- although unintentional- experiment with journalism.
Guilty pleasures abound in the paper. I was fascinated to see the phrase 'panic jets in' about a week ago. Does it really? Which other emotions use air transport? Does enthusiasm maybe use a motorcycle? Food for thought I guess.
***
For the last few weeks I've been mesmerised by the TV show House. It's a rare breed of a TV show since the lead character Gregory House is a complete bastard-a genuinely cruel, heartless man with hardly an ounce of love for another human being. He is TV's greatest misanthrope- and yet like many viewers I cant bring myself to hate him.
It's a medical show so his one redeeming feature is he gets to save someone's life every week. However he despises his patients and friends, makes enemies almost gleefully and becomes increasingly more unpleasant as the series progresses. It's very refreshing to see an anti-hero being the center of a TV show and one who-aside from treating his patients- is driven to doing anything but the right thing. It's quite a fascinating thing to watch- that and the bizzare medical cases he takes on not to mention his utterly brilliant sense of humour. I can't remember the last time I saw someone this witty on a TV show.His relationship with James Wilson-the only man who is technically his friend- is also a joy to behold as they trade witticisms back and forth. Wilson is also a very engaging character and he makes the show even more compelling. I cant recommend this show highly enough. If you dont watch House, the terrorists will have won and you dont want that do you?
***
I've been feeling increasingly more sympathetic towards Hillary Clinton. Watching her campaign get shot down in flames and seeing her reduced to such historic soundbytes as 'Shame on you!' is a pretty sad thing and you have to be carrying some pretty lousy karma if you get labelled a 'cold and calculating politician' as if this species of politician hasnt been around for...well, since the dawn of politics really. With Hillary, that becomes her defining trait- she's 'manipulative', 'she'll do anything to get the presidency'. Are these people for real? They might as well release a report saying MEN WILL GENERALLY DO ANYTHING TO GET LAID AND THEY ALSO TEND TO EXHIBIT A FONDNESS FOR BEER. She's really no different from the majority of politicians. I'm not supporting her-I find apathy a much more satisfying experience when it comes to the US elections- but I do feel sorry for her.
And I feel a bit sorry for Obama too, because a curious thing is happening- his eloquence and charisma is beginning to work against him. Now the meme is 'He's all talk and no substance' nevermind the fact that he has been putting forward concrete and specific proposals almost since day one. However the criticism is not with his ideas, but with the fact that he has none.
So how has this come about? Because he's now the charisma candidate, people find it hard to see beyond that. It becomes a distraction from the real meat of his campaign. When you inspire such a huge mass movement and become hailed as the greatest speaker of your generation, it also becomes a cross to bear because the ideas and proposals get lost in the bigger picture. The paradox appears to be that had Obama been a less competent speaker, he would be considered a more credible-as opposed to popular which he is- candidate because he would be the 'ideas' candidate-the guy you know is going to sort shit out because he's told you exactly the way he is going to do it. It's like one of those things you'd see in a dodgy Japanese martial arts film- "Your greatest strength became your greatest weakness, grasshopper."
***
In the sad news of the week, it turns out that David Attenbrough is retiring and is not going to do anymore stunning nature programmes. He's still going to be on TV, but his globetrotting days are over.
For the unitiated, David Attenbrough presented the most enthralling wildlife programmes the world has ever seen. He wasn't just good- he was magical and the best thing on BBC by a country mile. If the four horsemen of the apocalypse were riding into town and Attenbrough said there was nothing to worry about, I would probably just go back to reading and close the curtain.
It's impossible to put into words quite how brilliant his wildlife programmes are, but I'll give you a hint- he made a show on insects as gripping as The Sopranos. My social life at University came to a shuddering halt every Saturday at 9pm when the series was on and when he followed it up with Planet Earth...well it was so good, I was afraid it was illegal. The other day I rented The Life of Mammals from my local store and it was- are you sensing a pattern here?- ridiculously brilliant.
I wonder also what Attenbrough would have made of another strange species-the Rwandan male. One wonders what to think of men who walk down the street firmly fondling their genitals in broad daylight. Is it some kind of mating ritual? And is it the first such ritual guaranteed not to work? Or are they just so insecure that they have to keep checking for verification (THANK GOD ITS STILL HERE!)It's an interesting study into how certain behaviour can remain resistant to social disapproval (The prevalence of spitting also falls into this category)
I'd also be interested in a study into why the vast majority of football fans in Kigali have pledged their allegiance to Arsenal. Sure they play exciting football, but so does Manchester United or even the likes of Tottenham. I don't think their African connection explains it either or the fact that they've won quite a few titles in the last decade- after all, they've finished fourth in the Premiership for two years running and their support didnt wane. Furthermore Chelsea is still hugely unpopular despite winning the last two premiership titles, so what gives?
Mr. Attenborough's services may no longer be required at this point, but I think a subtle form of peer pressure may have something to do with it. It seems to me that when Premiership football began to take root in Kigali, Arsenal fans were the more vocal and passionate supporters and once new fans entered the picture, that camaraderie would have made Arsenal an attractive option. Football fans are looking for victory yes, but they're also looking for a feeling of belonging. As the numbers grow, the effect would be amplified and identification with the Arsenal 'family' would have made more and more fans jump onto the bandwagon. Once you combine this with the other factors I mentioned earlier, it may partly account for Arsenal having such a huge appeal in Kigali. The other day while watching my beloved Liverpool lose, an Arsenal fan turned to me and said "Why don't you support a proper team like Arsenal?"
And while I struggled to put into words quite how much he had missed the point of supporting a football team, I found myself thinking of The Invasion of the bodysnatchers. Just fall asleep and you'll wake up as one of us. No disrespect to the Gunners, but that's not the way it works.