Released in the UK earlier this year, Black Venus (or ‘Vénus Noire’) is a piece of French filmmaking, which, whether you enjoy it or not, will certainly not leave you impassive. The first time I saw the film at the cinema it affected me to the extent that I actually left before the end, but please don’t let this dissuade you from reading on. The latest film by Tunisian director Abdellatif Kechiche, Black Venus tells the sombre yet absorbing story of the ‘Venus Hottentot’: a South African woman brought to Europe at the start of the 19th century to perform the role of a caged savage in the popular freak shows of the day. The film portrays not only a depiction of the birth of the “Hottentot” legend, but also the personal and painful experience of Sarah (Saartjie) Baartman, the woman behind the mythical persona.
Black Venus possesses various laudable qualities, and is particularly notable for the combination of themes it explores. Throughout, one is driven to reflect on concerns such as humans’ capacity for cruelty and exploitation, and the lines between voyeurism, entertainment and art.
Notions of barbarity and civility are inverted in the film, realised in the paradox of the Europeans, who consider themselves sophisticated and cultured and yet pay money to see and touch a ‘savage’ girl locked in a cage. It’s the people on the outside of the bars who finally exhibit shamelessly savage traits. The treatment of Saartjie, be it by the English peasantry, the Dutch exploiters or the upper echelons of French society, is violent, brutal and base. The image of the staring crowds is a piercing one: the numerable pairs of eyes bulging with a curious and probing lust. The crowd’s thirst to watch Saartjie dance and move becomes increasingly perverse and the show eventually descends into what feels like a pornographic spectacle, raising the question: where does entertainment end and voyeurism begin?
The pain and humiliation to which Saartjie is subjected is emphasised in the stylistic choice of lengthy, repetitive scenes. Kechiche seems to purposely toy with the boundaries of acceptability, at times making his audience feel uncomfortable, and mirroring the questions posed by the actions of Saartjie’s exploiters: just how far one can go in the name of art and/or entertainment? Furthermore, what exactly constitutes art? In court Saartjie declares herself to be an actress, and at the start of her life in England, perhaps she believes this. However, many watching the court case don’t agree: “you’re not an actress [...] you’re like an animal in a cage, exposing youself”.
Notably, none of the people who meet Saartjie (doctors; a judge; the clients of a brothel where she begins to work) speak to her directly, thus she is literally denied a voice. The overwhelming interest Saartjie inspires is tragically superficial, be it racist ignorance, degrading sexual fetishism, or dehumanising clinical examination.
Yamina Torres makes a remarkable debut performance, undertaking the complex role of Saartjie with complete commitment and conviction. There has been criticism of the character’s function within the film, which claims her to be no more than a vehicle to represent a concept. However, to say this without recognising the excellence and intricacies of Torres’ performance is unjust. Torres has an irrefutable presence, and successfully communicates a mixture of desperation, loneliness and vulnerability in a very human way in her characterisation of Sarah Baartman. Any suggestion that the protagonist is no more than a concept would also be completely contrary to the spirit of the film: in its essence it is first and foremost a biopic; that it highlights various social issues relevant to Saarah Baartman’s life is secondary.
Another point worthy of note: it is an unquestionably long film (2 hours 39 minutes to be exact!), and sometimes feels like a genuine attack on the mind and eyes. The ensemble of long, drawn-out scenes, the frequent close-ups of faces, and the minimal soundtrack, though it may all be rather unpleasant to watch, is necessary to communicate the story’s graveness. I found the absence of an excessively manipulative pathos rendered this film more respectful. Kechiche successfully manages to transport his audience into the story; we live the agonizing moments in their entirety with Saartjie, which makes Black Venus particularly humane and memorable.
Sinéad Morgan
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