Baloji has a remarkable story. It just wasn’t the story he wanted to tell.
Born in Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) with a name that means “sorcerer” or “demon” in Swahili, the 45-year-old moved to Belgium as an infant, away from much of his family. He grew up, was classified as an illegal immigrant, remained in the country by the skin of his teeth, became a musician, became an artist, a Belgian citizen, and against the odds, a filmmaker. After years of rejection, he took his debut feature to the Cannes Film Festival in 2023, won a prize for best new voice, and represented Belgium at the Academy Awards, coming full circle.
His story – or at least some part of it – was exactly what the film industry expected him to adapt with his first movie, “Omen.” As a diasporic filmmaker, there were, he told CNN, a lot of people with ideas about the story he was “supposed” to tell. And Baloji does – for the first 20 minutes at least, before he cuts and runs into a magical, surreal space that aspires for more.
“Omen,” which he wrote, directed, and created costumes and sets for, was shot on location in the DRC on a $1.2 million budget (it looks like it cost much more). It begins with Koffi, the ostracized son of a Congolese family, who returns to the DRC from Belgium with his pregnant White fiancé. He wants to honor tradition and pay a dowry, but he’s met with hostility; his father won’t meet him, his mother is scornful, and his sisters turn sour when there’s an accident and he’s accused of sorcery.
Interweaving the stories of four people touched by sorcery, Baloji conjures an absurd fable that marries Central African animism and Catholicism with Disney and European folklore. It’s avant-garde filmmaking that prizes image above all, though it’s fizzing with ideas.
Ahead of its release in the UK on April 26, Baloji spoke to CNN by video call about its many influences, the long road to the big screen, and the subterfuge required to get the film funded.
The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.
CNN: I’ve read your name means “sorcerer,” but also “man of science.” Is it one or the other, or is it both?
Baloji: Both. “Ba” is plural (for man) and “loji” is science, so “men of science.” So a healer, in the 18th and 19th century. In the 20th century Christianity arrives (in the DRC). Christianity was the “good science,” so it became negative and the “bad science” – black magic, sorcerer. Which is not so cool. I’m not a big fan of my name, but it is what it is.
Has it had a big impact on your life?
Totally. Right after Cannes, I went to Congo to present the movie. That was the first time in my whole life that people in Congo said my name without feeling embarrassed or feeling like it evoked bad spirits. I remember we had a press conference and the first words I said were, “we can reverse the stigma.” It’s possible. But even when I was going on the radio, the (presenter) was spelling it, like, “We have today B-A-L-O-J-I…” because it’s like calling yourself “devil” or “demon,” so people don’t want to say that word. It’s extremely loaded, and I suffer.
This film isn’t autobiographical, but I understand there’s some overlap between your experiences and Koffi’s. What made you want to turn any of that into a film?
I don’t think that Koffi is my narrative twin, because I think Koffi is a coward. I feel much more related with his sister (Tshala) or with Paco (a street gang leader, both of whom are also accused of sorcery or witchcraft).
It’s a movie that is playing with codes. When you’re from the diaspora, most of the funding you get is when you talk about this type of story: of going back home. But I think it would be a major lie if we don’t admit that Koffi is not a victim. He’s on the side of the privileged, because he has something that no one else has in the DRC: a passport. He can leave whenever he wants. Koffi is a McGuffin, he’s an entry point. So you think we’re going to talk about something that is very present in literature for the last 200 years? Going back home and feeling disconnected? Then after 20 minutes we change the point of view. The main character is his mum, because she’s the one that goes through a big change in the narrative.
I read this was a $1.2 million dollar movie. How did you fulfil your vision on that kind of budget? Particularly the big scenes. For example, how was it shooting the wrestling match in a public space with big crowds?
Stressy for the first assistant director (laughs). We had two cameras for that day. But going back to something that was difficult for me: getting the Goonz gang to wear pink dresses. (The gang wears them to honor their leader Paco’s missing sister.) The kids didn’t want to wear a pink dress. Their parents didn’t want their kids wearing a pink dress. I had to show them a whole scene and explain to them it’s a tribute to his sister, not about his sexual preference. Then they were on board.
Let’s talk about the film’s queer and queer-adjacent content.
The queer culture is everywhere in the narrative of Paco, the street kids with the pink dress, and obviously with Tshala and her open relationship, or polyamory. Then again, I thought it was interesting to question polyamory, because it’s based on something very simple: It’s based on trust and honesty. Because if one of the partners cheats or don’t respect the agreement, it falls apart. At the end of the day there’s the same values in every type of relationship. It doesn’t matter if you have one partner or five.
My film is prohibited, censored in certain African countries, because they consider that we’re promoting LGBT culture and polyamorous sexualities. So the movie’s censored in Cameroon, in Uganda, Ghana – which is quite surprising.
This is your first feature film. You faced some rejection and it took a while. Why was that?
They just didn’t take me seriously. The funding process was very difficult. I didn’t go to film school. I didn’t work as an (assistant director) for 10-15 years. It’s a very interesting process to be confronted by institutions.
We never got one penny from France. The moment you have one European character – I’m sorry, don’t take offense – but the moment you have a French, White character, the commissioner wants to know the point of view of that character. They want to follow the narrative from that character. They don’t accept that this character can be just a supporting act.
Because they blocked us for so many years, we decided to change the name of (the White character) Alice to Salma. From (that moment), nobody cared. It was not a problem that she was secondary anymore. No readers identified themselves with her, so they cannot read and be like, “Where’s my point of view?” “Where’s my narrative twin?” That’s the only thing that unlocked the funding. It’s dispiriting.
Was debuting the film at Cannes a validating experience?
It changed the life of the movie, because it put it under the microscope. It changed the way people looked at the movie or considered me. Because the industry has difficulty in accepting that you can be a filmmaker and other things. And because most of the funding institutions were like, “You’re not making cinema,” “You’re not part of the film world.”
And then it was submitted by Belgium for the Academy Award for best international feature.
To represent Belgium at the Oscars was something very special to me, because I’m coming from an immigrant past – an illegal past. I received an order to leave the territory … and I was just saved by somebody who accepted to take charge of the costs. It was difficult to get my Belgian passport. I was there since I was four, but it was extremely difficult. So to represent Belgium after all this time, it’s a special feeling.
The Oscar campaign is something. I learned a lot. But at the end of the day, it’s also about budget and networking. You have to do a lot of politics, which is no problem, but then we realized that we’re too small. It’s like going to a gunfight with a knife. We had €25,000 ($27,000). I went to a dinner for the French candidate, and just the dinner was €25,000. Because you have to make sure that the voters come to see the movie. That’s the difficulty. It’s all about money.
“Omen” (“Augure”) is released in UK cinemas on April 26.