“Functions as a reminder that hope looms beyond painful moments, and even if you don’t belong, your dreams can come true.”

Chasing your dreams is something that has always been a part of world cinema’s lexicon, in particular in the coming-of-age genre so popular with younger filmmakers. Films about this topic usually can’t escape the tropes of the genre, and it is no different for Rafiki Fariala’s feature debut Congo Boy (his documentary We, Students! already played in Berlin’s Panorama section, so Fariala is no stranger to major festivals). Still, there is something in this tale about a young Congolese refugee who wants to become a musician against the wishes of his father that elevates Congo Boy above the countless social realist coming-of-age dramas that litter the festival world. Perhaps it is the strong autobiographical influence that gives the world Fariala paints that extra bit of realism that makes it stand out. The director himself was a refugee, fleeing from Congo to the Central African Republic with his parents at a young age. He is the embodiment of chasing your dreams, and his dreams have brought him to the pinnacle of the cinema world, Cannes. A talent with an eye for composition, telling a story that feels lived through, with Congo Boy Fariala brings something fresh to the genre, and it’s not just because this is the CAR’s first ever film on the Croisette.

Even though he is still in his teens, Robert (Bradley Fiomona Dembeasset) is already the head of a family. Not that he has fathered children himself, but since both his parents are in prison it falls on him to take care of his younger siblings. Having fled civil war in Congo with their family, both father and mother were imprisoned for having false passports for their place of refuge, the neighboring Central African Republic. His father imprints on Robert that he should at all costs keep his Congolese background a secret from the man who now employs Robert and the other children, a colonel in the CAR’s army. He also pushes his son to go to school and study medicine, like he did. Robert’s dreams lie in music though. Juggling a budding musical career with getting an education, the one funding the other, is hard, especially when the spectre of violence hangs over you at all times and help is further away than a bullet. Hustling his way into performances in the clubs of Bangui, the CAR’s capital, he gets word of a talent contest held by UNICEF, promising money and a way to fulfill his dream. But when rebel militias take over the city that dream seems further away than ever.

The outcome is evident. Still it is not the broader narrative that gives Congo Boy its charm, but the way Fariala gives it shape, infusing it with details and glimpses into Central African life, both good and bad, that we rarely see in larger Western festivals. By doing so he manages to show the plight of African refugees within their own continent. Discrimination ranges from higher tuition costs to being scoffed at by UNHCR staff. Robert and his siblings being treated more or less like live-in slaves shows the hardships for those on the bottom rung of the ladder. And in a country in a perpetual state of civil war, the threat to life lies around every corner. The soundscape frequently features gunshots in the distance or gun violence up close, a reminder that this country (and most countries in the region, sadly) is volatile. By contrast, scenes of Robert celebrating his graduation or simply enjoying himself with his brothers and sisters, in the short lull between the army leaving and the militias taking control of the city, underline the positivity and message of hope that Congo Boy wants to convey. Most affecting are the scenes involving music, whether it is Robert singing about life to himself, trying out lyrics, or singing at one of his performances. The moments brim with joy, and highlight Fiomona’s solid vocal skills.

Fariala establishes all this with a steady directorial hand, in which he shows a good eye for shot composition and mise-en-scène, framing Robert differently depending on his situation. He is helped by cinematographer Adrien Lallau, whose lush daytime visuals that brim with color are matched by well-lit night and interior shots full of contrast, which makes Congo Boy pleasing to the eye. Fiomona’s performance, a debut, shows range. His timid, submissive behavior in the face of authority, whether it be his dad, the colonel, or a music producer that can help him achieve his dreams, is in stark contrast with the joyful expressions on stage or with his boys. With the infectious music Fariala molds this into a tale that, yes, at times is too been-there-done-that, and especially towards the rushed ending feels like the director biting off more than he can chew, but also functions as a reminder that hope looms beyond painful moments, and even if you don’t belong, your dreams can come true. Just ask Rafiki Fariala.