“We do use the music as a weapon against man’s inhumanity towards man.”
-Max Roach
In Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat, jazz music and international relations form an immaculate pairing. There’s a narrative justification for this, as jazz musicians are dispatched as “ambassadors” to the Congo and other African nations during periods of unrest. But the title Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat is also literal, as archival footage of the coup and quotes from relevant sources are shown while period-appropriate jazz soundtracks the movie.
The way these two elements are juxtaposed is often playful and clever, with cross-cutting between performances and new narrative developments a frequent occurrence. There’s also a metaphorical power to the pairing, as the musicians play off each other and respond in a push-and-pull manner, just like the key players in the coup.
Soundtrack meanders quite a bit in its first hour, taking more of a free association approach. Eventually, though, it settles into an exploration of the Congo Crisis of the early ’60s. The Republic of the Congo was granted independence from Belgian colonial rule and Patrice Lumumba was elected Prime Minister in May of 1960. However, global interests in Congo’s valuable mining operations lead to tension in the United Nations, the involvement of the CIA, and an eventual coup led by Joseph-Désiré Mobutu.
While I’ve described the events above in the manner of a Wikipedia entry, Soundtrack truly brings them to life. The design throughout the movie is stunning, with clean text constantly overlaid over the images to provide pull quotes, subtitling where required, facts that provide the backbone of the narrative, and much more. The text elements bring a modern touch to the treasure trove of archival footage featured in the film.
The sound is also expertly designed, with audio from interviews and UN meetings, the aforementioned jazz soundtrack, and sound effects where appropriate. Soundtrack will often use many of the tools at its disposal at once, and its pace is as frenetic as the jazz that runs through the film.
Soundtrack is also not afraid to tell its story non-sequentially. It jumps to different years in the era it is covering with some frequency. Humorously, there are jarring inclusions of ten-second clips of Tesla and iPhone ads in two instances, a rare incursion from the 21st century. It also takes several diversions, such as interspersed clips of Andrée Blouin, an activist and anti-colonialist.
However, despite the complexity of its storytelling and style, Soundtrack is a very welcoming film. Its style is immediately accessible and engaging. It is both beautiful to look at on a purely aesthetic basis, and substantially rich enough in its subject matter to provoke thought.
Catching every detail Soundtrack throws at you would be difficult and perhaps not even possible, but the essentials are clear and it rewards close attention. In that way (and many others), it’s like jazz.
