It might manifest as a straightforward historical documentary, but the fascinating, hypnotic Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat unfolds into something much deeper – and more sinister.
The story focuses on the assassination of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first democratically elected president, in 1961. Director Johan Grimonprez delves into the main players in the race for colonial control of Congo, painting the UN, United States and his own homeland of Belgium as culpable for the coup which led to Lumumba’s demise.
A bold opening sets the tone for what’s to come, with polyrhythmic jazz swirling around clips from scene-setting political interviews. Footage from the Cold War, the African decolonisation movement, and the nuclear arms race tangle with one another. Among the Nina Simone riffs and Louis Armstrong trumpet solos, you feel the weight of a world on the brink of change.
Grimonprez digs into Lumumba’s rise to power and his ambitious vision for a united African state, which ultimately clashed with the West and left him with an inescapable target on his back.
Grimonprez intertwines these cold political realities with intoxicating musical rhythms. Congolese bolero underscores the country’s declaration of independence (Joseph Kabasele’s ‘Indépendance Cha Cha’ is a highlight); soulful blues play over scenes of Lumumba’s exile; and jazz drummer Max Roach’s percussive patterns intensify moments of conflict.
Cold political realities are intertwined with intoxicating musical rhythms
The jazz is both a guide and fellow passenger through the tumult: sometimes in the background; sometimes conversing freely with archive footage, as if to replace the sparse narration. Contemporary political narratives run alongside one another, as we’re yanked from the troubled streets of Harlem to the mines of Katanga and back. Here the film really shines: cleverly juxtaposing how governments treat their people, and undress the hypocrisy of powerful Western nations imposing their will on African ones. There’s genuine nuance to Grimonprez’s storytelling.
As this black-and-white film comes to a close in a sudden burst of colour, the final comment on colonialism’s grim legacy is a bleak one: DR Congo is still in disarray and there’s not even a Dizzy Gillespie around to drown out the noise with jazzy rhythms.
In UK and Ireland cinemas now.