Her POV: ‘On Becoming a Guinea Fowl’ calls to speak ill of the living before they die

Content warning: This article contains references to sexual violence.

In an interview with Le Cinéma Club, Zambian-Welsh filmmaker Rungano Nyoni said her film “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” (2024) does not question Zambian traditions. Instead, it examines the weaponization of cultural norms to fulfill patriarchal desires, serving as an audacious take on the culture of silence that surrounds familial abuse and how protecting a child’s privacy can cause devastating long-term impacts.

“On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” explores the funeral rituals observed by a Zambian family after Shula (Susan Chardy) discovers the body of her Uncle Fred on the side of the road. It begins as a dark comedy and morphs into a psychological thriller as Shula discovers the web of secrecy among her elders that protected her abusive uncle and grapples with the difficulty of reckoning with his legacy.

In addition to directing, Nyoni also wrote the film’s screenplay. The opening vignette illustrated her ability to leverage minimal dialogue to build a rich audiovisual tapestry and convey multilayered storytelling. Before Shula comes across Fred, she is driving home from a costume party in a black Mercedes-Benz. Donning her oversized Missy Elliott costume from the rapper’s “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” music video, Shula taps her fingers along to the Nigerian afrobeat 1979 hit “Come On Home.” Her reverie demonstrates how popular culture has traveled across time and space, shaping Shula’s orientation to the world.

The bulk of the action takes place at Shula’s mother’s home. Spurred by her cadre of nagging aunties, Shula adopts a reticent yet dutiful posture toward the work of preparing meals and running errands. Luckily, her labor is shared among her cousins, including the free-spirited Nsansa (Elizabeth Chisela). Nsansa’s character provides comic relief as the cousins hide from the aunties in the pantry to gossip, drink from a flask and make fun of Fred’s wife for her outlandish displays of mourning.

The pantry serves as a cloistered space separate from the histrionics transpiring in the rest of the house. Impromptu meetings allow the cousins to share childhood stories about Fred, and while the initial tales are humorous, they then take on sinister notes, a nod to the importance of making space for people to reveal painful truths. The whispered confessions and public expressions of grief produce mental dissonance in Shula, who begins experiencing nightmares and flashbacks as a reflection of this turmoil. 

Several characters are talked about before they appear, and we begin to form an impression of them through Shula’s point of view. However, the physical introduction of Fred’s wife is shocking — without spoiling too much, she is an indictment of Fred and the extent to which people were complicit in his crimes. 

A key theme in “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is that rituals can bind us to behaviors that are out of sync with our feelings. Nsansa insists that Fred’s body should be covered until the ambulance arrives to retrieve him. After we learn about his attempt to molest her during childhood, it is difficult to reconcile her concern for his dignity with his monstrousness. Moreover, though the women are positioned as looking at each other across a generational divide, there are echoes of the younger generation repeating patterns under the guise of tradition. Shula bristles when told only the elders are to discuss Fred’s death, and yet she comfortably directs her younger cousins to serve the men first after the girls and women have spent hours preparing the meal. 

Nyoni’s direction is also noteworthy, as she often places the viewer directly in several scenes. From shots simulating a backstage passenger’s viewpoint to multiple perspective shifts, the viewer is continually interpolated as a witness. This technique invites questions about the roles we play in our own families. Are we passive bystanders, or do we testify against the wrongs that are committed? 

The film also cleverly reveals the sociopolitical contours of Zambia. At one point, the power in the house goes out and the room lights up with the glow from dozens of phones, a stunning display of how technology can provide individual solutions that dull our sense of injustice at systemic problems.

After slowly ratcheting up the tension, “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” ends on an explosive note. The title is explained in a way that underscores why the audience is placed in the middle of many scenes. Though after a second viewing, I was convinced of its veracity, there is some ambiguity as to whether the final scene is real or imagined. What remains unambiguous is that “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is one of the best films I’ve seen this year — and a call to speak ill of the living to reduce the harm they commit before they die.

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