Zaire

Zaire is the debut feature length film from writer and director Iman DuPree taking on influences of the L.A. Rebellion film movement and the New Wave scene to create an affectionate tale of love in the immediate days after Covid-19 restrictions are lifted.

The film follows Zaire (Carmen Banks), a black trans woman, as she begins to form a connection with Marcus (Benji), a black cisgender man. At times, the romance between them can be a little cliché with the ‘will they, won’t they’ narrative but it’s DuPree’s creative and inspired directorial choices, as well as the chemistry between both lead performances, that shine throughout.

Throughout Zaire, DuPree adopts the Kishotenketsu narrative structure over four acts that allows the audience to sit with both characters for longer and not be defined by the conflict of the film. There is also an opening scene that comes full circle with one of the final scenes that, aside from some overuse of slow motion, works very well.

Before fully introducing Zaire and Marcus to the audience, DuPree cleverly highlights the history of black trans lives while showing the brutal violence of transphobia. They make it clear the stark reality of life for trans people and it emphasises how important a film like Zaire is in times like this.

Before they meet each other, Zaire and Marcus’ lives are mirrored. Both have just lost their corporate jobs (Zaire to transphobia and Marcus to Covid restrictions lifting) and both are lonely. During this opening act, these separate storylines do feel a little static although it does reflect the loneliness of the post lockdown world.

It’s when Zaire and Marcus both share the screen that the film truly comes alive. Banks and Benji bounce off of each other so well and both of their performances are captivating. They find shared connection through poetry, film and Mario Kart and it allows the audience to connect to both of these characters.

The question that remains throughout the film is whether this romance can flourish or whether self-doubt and a lack of communication will ruin it. Love, in DuPree’s eyes, appears to be an optimistic form of resistance to hatred which is an important and clear message.

One of DuPree’s most interesting and thought provoking directorial choices here is their choice of colour palate. Throughout most of the film, there is a black and white colour palate which works to show the isolation and loneliness of these two characters but it is interspersed with scenes in colour. At first, this seemed to be when Zaire and Benji share the screen together but this isn’t consistent enough to be the only reason. DuPree’s intentions behind it are still uncertain but perhaps it is a reflection of both character’s shared emotion. There are also times where the film can seem a little messy and Benji’s self-doubt/hesitance could be expanded upon.

Altogether, Zaire is a story that is essential, especially when transphobia is as prevalent as it is today. It centres black LGBTQ voices and tells a story of love in an incredibly creative and fresh way. Although it may be a little messy in points, it’s a very strong debut and DuPree is certainly a filmmaker to be on the lookout for.