The phenomenon called observer’s paradox originates in the field of linguistics, but is perfectly applicable for documentary filmmaking as well: how is it possible to capture an authentic moment when the presence of the filmmaker already influences the situation? In this particular case, filmmaker Vanessa Wijngaarden pulled off an even greater trick: a white woman with a camera filming an African homestead becomes seemingly invisible. This might be the most astonishing feat of Eliamani’s Homestead and it opens the gates to one of the purest documentaries I have come across in a long time.
Wijngaarden approaches the situation in the most modest way, without hasty editing, without music or voice-over, always keeping the delicate balance between distance and voyeurism. Thus unfolds a tale as mundane as it might sound: tourists in Africa doing touristy things.
The bitter magic once again lies in the minimalism of this film. Sidelined as a spectator by Wijngaarden’s view, the situation starts to feel inescapable and soon becomes unbearable. The constant clicking of the camera noisily asks the question how many hundreds of pictures from strangers you might need when you get home. It is a weird and uncomfortable reflection of a culture that we might be part of. And while we recognize ourselves in this cinematic mirror we would love to get rid of our shackles, jump through the screen and scream some sense into these innocent but oblivious people.
The superficial banter between the Dutch family clashes against the discussions of the African women concerning tourism and negotiations. The only person who does understand all spoken languages at this bizarre comedy is Wijngaarden herself, and by extend we as the audience, frantically reading the subtitles witnessing the scene proceeds and the misunderstanding arise while we stay as powerless as we were before.
Eliamani’s Homestead is at its core nothing special. But exactly herein lies the cruelty. The events portrayed in the film happen in this form or another everyday all over the world. Wijngaarden’s approach of keeping the experience as unfiltered as possible becomes a magnifying glass that displays the absurdity of this normality. And it burns if you let it get to you.
Wijngaarden’s keen eye and her ability to get the complete trust of all her protagonists before she even turned on her camera build the foundation for some of the most honest minutes of film you might witness this year.
Christoph Dobbitsch, September 2017.
Website of Vanessa Wijngaarden 