SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL: Though never quite as clever as it hopes to be, Raoul Peck’s caustically-comic account of an island dictator’s final hours provides moments of tremendous discomfort and savage self-examination – for both cast and audience. Despite a shoestring budget and primarily single location, Peck has delivered a thoughtful, coarse and involving tale of guilt, corruption and third-world politics.
The protagonist, President Jean de Dieu (Zinedine Soualem), wakes alone on the day that international representatives are due at his palace for an image-bolstering gathering. When he stirs his wife (the striking Sonia Rolland), she is startled, her first words 'You scared me." Whilst preparing for his day, the President cuts his foot on a sliver of glass that leaves him hobbling (a simple but effective metaphor that gains momentum throughout the film).
At first, Soualem portrays The President as a soulless, sociopathic stereotype – he is unmoved by images of the Abu Ghraib Prison abuses; he makes sexually explicit advances to his servant Sharon (Tasha Homan) then, in the next breath, plays cute with his young daughter. But as dignitaries cancel their planned visits and the psychological burden of the state-sanctioned murder he oversees takes its toll, Soualem peels back layers of the character. Naked and roaming his own killing fields, mumbling Shakespearian-like internal monologues, The President is exposed as a compromised and damaged human being.
Peck has denied on record that the character is based on the final hours of the life of early 19th century Haitian monarch King Henri-Christophe, who took his own life rather than face the 1820 peasant uprising. This is despite the location use of La Citadelle Laferrière, the majestic fortress built by Henri-Christophe that attained World Heritage status in 1982. The hilltop castle is a triumph of decadence and design, its complex hallways and hollow atriums the perfect symbol for the twisted state of the fictional President’s confused mind.
The myriad of characters that Peck employs – advisers, heavies, orchestra members, peasants and international visitors, all of whom have subplots with varying degrees of importance – means that wrapping the film up in a satisfying conclusion would require a sure hand, and Peck loses focus somewhat during the last 40 minutes. Tonally, the film shifts in a heartbeat – scenes of torture and murder (a free-spirited journalist is killed by immolation) segues into political satire (as the guest list dwindles, an adviser shrieks 'We need more whites!") then back to confronting content, often of a sexual nature.
But if Moloch Tropical is flawed, it also represents a boldly ambitious work, both for the experienced director (it’s easily his best film since the internationally-acclaimed Lumumba, 2000) and the small film industry of his homeland, Haiti. It’s melding of a High Office’s misguided sense of entitlement with a native population’s desire for a hopeful future makes for a potent political satire.
