Within the rich history of African folklore, there are many spirits of the water. Yet there is one that rises above the others in the pantheon, and her name is Mami Wata: a goddess of the water who, much like the realm she presides over, has the power to give life and to take it away. A dual-natured deity Mami Wata is, as if there were any other kind, who demands dutiful worship to remain in her good graces. In the West African coastal village of Iyu, she has it through her intermediary Mama Efe (Edochie), who governs this matriarchal community with rituals and tradition. But a good folktale needs conflict, hopefully coming from various directions, and tests of faith, of course. That’s the meat and potatoes of these stories, and Nigerian filmmaker C.J. “Fiery” Obasi invokes it all in his visually hypnotic Mami Wata.
A mother pleads to Mama Efe to bring her dead child back to life. But it cannot be, for the child was a child of the water, given by Mami Wata and now taken back. It is how things are in Iyu, Mama Efe says, how things have always been. As the mother sobs, Zinwe (Aniunoh), one of Mama Efe’s daughters and her heir apparent, leaves in disgust. How can her mother let this go on, these dead children taken at a whim, these grieving mothers inconsolable? Zinwe goes into exile, but Mama Efe’s other daughter, the free-spirited Prisca (Ily), remains. Soon, a man washes up on the shores of Iyu. His name is Jasper (Amakeze), and he is fleeing his country due to a violent civil war. The village takes him in, and Prisca takes him in, but there is something not quite right with Jasper, which becomes apparent when he takes up with the young tough Jabi (Udegbe) and his crew, who are jealous of Mama Efe and the heavy tithes she receives from the villagers for Mami Wata’s protection. Under the guise of promising Iyu electricity, schools, and hospitals, Jasper pulls off a coup. As Prisca flees with a group of villagers to find her sister, Jasper determines that the town’s treasury would be better spent on guns, lots of guns. Jabi agrees. So does the white gun runner who appears.
Obasi orchestrates this clash of tradition, modernity, and colonialism with a stark black-and-white palette. The tides of deep black water capped in white froth, the intricate designs and contrasts of fabrics and cowrie shells fill the frame with movement bordering on the abstract. But it is the tribal face paint, the white dot patterns surrounding each character’s visage, that give the film its striking, expressionistic power. Mami Wata is a marvel to behold (cinematographer Lílis Soares winning a Special Jury Prize at Sundance this year was a no-brainer) and Obasi throws in enough curveballs to this familiar story to keep you off-kilter. Which, incidentally, is the preferred position most deities want you in when you embrace them.
This article appears in October 6 • 2023.