Chiwetel Ejiofor blazes as Patrice Lumumba, the prime minister of a troubled nation who met an untimely end
By S.W.
PATRICE LUMUMBA served as prime minister of the Democratic Republic of Congo for less than three months in 1960, when it gained independence from Belgium. Half a century later his memory still haunts the country. Joe Wright’s English-language revival of “A Season in the Congo”, a 1966 play by Aimé Césaire, at the Young Vic in London, is a tribute to the leader who all too briefly held the hopes of a nation.
Lumumba was a farmer’s son who fought for independence and became the first democratically elected leader of the post-colonial republic. Yet he was murdered by rebel troops (allegedly with Western support) almost as soon as he won it. His mutinous chief of staff, Mobutu Sese Seko, seized power and Congo has been trying to recover ever since.
From his early days inciting rebellion against the Belgian crown while selling bottles of beer, to the 1960 civil war that will seal his fate, Lumumba, ablaze with rhetoric, is always centre-stage. Mr Wright, a director best known for his film work (“Atonement”, “Anna Karenina”), took a risk casting Chiwetel Ejiofor, predominately a screen actor, in the role. But his Lumumba is a whirlwind: passionate, headstrong, blinkered by optimism.
A troupe of Congolese musicians accompany singers and dancers to recreate the noisy, frenetic atmosphere of Kinshasa’s streets. Mr Wright’s mother, an acclaimed puppet-maker, provides a gruesome cabal of life-size Western bankers who plot the secession of the mineral-rich region of Katanga. It was this gambit, and Lumumba’s opposition to it, that threw the country’s nascent government into chaos.
Lumumba’s decision to request Soviet military aid to fight the Katanga secession remains contentious, and the ensuing bloodshed and displacement made the case for his removal. This harrowing episode is narrated to the audience almost entirely from Lumumba’s perspective; other voices would have been welcome.
Mr Wright is careful not to overplay his villain, Colonel Mobutu. His 32-year reign of brutality and embezzlement is a sad chapter for another time. In other choices the direction is less restrained. Westerners wear long, piggy noses; America and the Soviet Union are represented by flags with animal skulls for heads that mouth the words of the nations. At one point, toy soldiers parachute onto the audience. Pulsing strobes and techno music score acts of violence.
These elements can coalesce into moments of unexpected potency. In his final moments, Lumumba is rolled awkwardly across a long table while his rivals feast. The image is absurd and unforgettable. Eventually he is silenced, though in death he still has much to say.
