Every once in a while, a film buries itself deep within your mind and only reveals itself after months of wrestling with its themes and pondering the work. These films deliver an inescapable unease in the best of ways, beckoning us to constantly revisit and reexamine it, demanding uncompromising engagement. These films are rare, requiring a singular vision executed with unabashed confidence and a sort of quiet darkness that says yes, you will remember this. “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is that kind of rare cinema, a film I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for months since seeing it at TIFF in September 2024. I distinctly remember sitting in the theater after it concluded unable to decide how I felt. As festivals go, I ultimately moved on to the next film starting in 30 minutes and tucked “Guinea Fowl” in the back of my mind to come back to later after some reflection and TIFF completion.
But “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” refused to be denied, and after 72 films at TIFF and another 50+ at Sundance this past January, this is the one I find myself thinking about the most. Deeply profound, quietly provocative and darkly funny, “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is a transcendent cultural commentary that digs deep into the clashes between deep religious tradition and generational trauma. “Guinea Fowl” is astoundingly clever in how it portrays these clashes, never once feeling exploitative of but rather empowering to its victims. It is an immersive family drama first, one rife with zealot devotion through the eyes of a westernized sibling returning to a home she no longer belongs to and forced to confront her trauma under the guise of mourning for a man that, as the story takes shape, doesn’t deserve it.
It begins with Shula (an exquisite Susan Chardy) dressed like Missy Eliot in the “No Rain” music video (the real ones will know) on a dark empty road slowly passing by the body of man laying in the on the side of road, presumed dead. It quickly becomes clear that it is her uncle Fred, and she is eerily calm and collected by this. Her cousin Nsansa (Elizabeth Chilsa) approaches Shula’s car on foot, brandishing a handle of liquor and carelessly pounding down swigs and stumbling about the car. It is an odd and funny exchange as the two seem to have a tumultuous relationship, but as day breaks and the family begins the long mourning period for Fred, dark secrets are revealed and the bonds that both Shula and Nsansa share completely reshape their first encounter. The memories and secrets are told through fractured dreams, wailing aunts, and religious traditionalism that constantly takes precident over the safety of the young women in the family.
Writer and Director Rungano Nyoni commands your attention with every frame, her sharp script injecting cunning humor in the most unexpected places and her keen direction keeps you lured in even as things get more and more unsettling. “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” tackles a lot, and Nyoni’s follow up to her 2017 critically acclaimed “I am Not a Witch” debut is an expansion of her talents and proclamation of a new voice in cinema. The way her characters mask their heartache and tragedy are masterful; Shula’s quiet detachment and calmness exerts a heavy toll trying to keep a quiet storm of rage and sadness buried while Nsansa’s constantly drunken blabbering and inebriated state is more than just party girl rebellion. There is devastation that unites these young women, and “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” imbues them with immense warmth and empathy as they begin to realize that is their voice that needs to be louder than the performative aunties more concerned with maintaining the status quo than holding despicable men accountable for their actions.
I know this all sounds heavy, but Nyoni smartly suffocates the darker themes under the pressures of family drama. Current events stifle the past at every turn, and the deeply sad and horrible events that have occurred are never at the forefront of any conversation. Even when “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” begins to take shape and the cousins begin to say the crimes out loud, they still somehow feel swept under the rug and pressed into the walls and foundations of the crowded home. Generational denial and refusal to confront inhumanities create a cycle of violence and misplaced blame, paving the way for countless horrors to occur unchecked. Nyoni wants you to feel this outrage, but not in the ways you expect. It is a quiet rebellion, one embodied by its title “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” that finally makes sense in the film’s haunting, unforgettable final moments.
It is profound stuff that Nyoni crafts, and while “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” may not resonate with everyone it has remained an apparition of provocation I simply cannot shake or unsee. It is heavy but funny, unnerving but quiet, tragic but redemptive without ever being resolute. “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” certainly requires patience and a knack for engaging with abstract, surrealist visuals and a difficult narrative, but that patience will be rewarded with one of the most unique experiences you’ll see all year.
“On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is a statement piece, one that I strongly believe will carry its weight all the way through 2025 and end up on many best of the year lists.
I too have experienced too many aunties under one roof, and my god does “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” nail that chaos.
Rating: 4 out of 5 Stars
“On Becoming a Guinea Fowl” is playing in select theaters. You can watch the trailer below.
