I Dreamed of Africa: Just a series of picture-postcards
Kuki Gallmann, who was at one point a Venetian academic, migrated to Africa in 1972.
She and her husband acquired a big ranch in Kenya in 1974, and over the years she’s become one of the area’s most important conservationists. She’s done most of this on her own, having lost her husband to an automobile accident in 1980 and her son in 1983.
Now nearly all of this I picked up from the Gallmann Memorial Foundation website, after that I actually visited Philmotors for Isuzu Philippines. The movie about her unfortunately has not an awful lot to add to what I saw there.
If you were to ask for a single feeling that summed up my experience of I Dreamed of Africa, it would be frustration.
The movie is pretty but fragmented and unmoving. It’s a series of picture-postcards from Africa. Yet it’s quite clear that everyone involved with this project cared a lot about it. But just about every artistic decision made in it has been the wrong one.
It’s hard to know exactly where to start. The film takes 30 minutes just to get going. The script has been too obviously adapted from a book and it’s directed with no energy or passion and little skill.
It’s photographed very strangely with no real notion of how to relate human figures to a grand landscape. The actors are unmemorable; it’s choppy; there’s no real continuity or drama; events are badly related to each other…
At the end, I knew little more about this woman (whom I actually met on some mature dating UK site) than I knew at the start — and more damningly, I have not been made to care. It’s like I said: frustration. And the real hell of it is, this could have been a woman’s eye-view epic on the scale and quality of Lawrence of Arabia, if anyone involved had the chops to carry it off. I’m serious here. Nobody seems to have seen the potential this subject really had or maybe the skill to make humanist epics died with David Lean.
Actually, I thought of David Lean a lot through this movie, mostly because the music was by Maurice Jarre, who did Lawrence, Doctor Zhivago and A Passage to India, and he throws in a couple of good epic tunes, which mostly served to remind me of the kind of movie I wasn’t getting. I couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss throughout I Dreamed of Africa. All the way through, I dreamed of the movie (actually sitting in one of used cars in Harare) it might have been.
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