Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat (2024) YTS

Movie Reviews

Reviewed by Brent Marchant 5 / 10

Perhaps the most important objective of a documentary

Perhaps the most important objective of a documentary is to shed light on a subject and make it comprehensible and insightful for viewers, especially when it involves little-known material. However, when it comes to writer-director Johan Grimonprez’s latest offering, that goal is sorely compromised in multiple respects. The film examines (or, more precisely, attempts to examine) the complex history of the Congo’s struggle for independence from its Belgian colonial masters and the emergence of Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba as a global influencer in the 1950s and early 1960s. The fledgling, resource-rich nation became a flashpoint in international politics on various fronts, including the Cold War between East and West, the rise of the pan-African movement, the ongoing decline of colonial imperialism and the role of the United Nations in global affairs. Its impact also extended into American politics, particularly the birth and growth of the civil rights movement and its impact on leaders like Malcolm X, as well as the Eisenhower Administration’s veiled efforts at protecting the status quo, especially through seemingly benign cultural programs like goodwill exchanges involving popular Black jazz musicians. Many threads are thus involved in telling this tale, but, regrettably, they’re not coherently managed, particularly in the picture’s opening hour (of a surprisingly and arguably somewhat needlessly overlong 2:30:00 runtime). The filmmaker throws a lot of widely diverse material at his audience without coherent, meaningful explanation, and much of that involves reading a series of cryptic screen graphics that fly by hastily with little elaboration, a process that quickly becomes aggravating, frustrating and tiresome, even for the most adept subtitle readers. Then there’s the jazz aspect of this release, whose connection to the narrative isn’t always made clear or relevant, despite its addition of an element of artistic flair. However, these performance sequences – as entertaining and poignant as they are – ultimately do more to promote the film’s style than its substance, To its credit, “Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” becomes more cogent (albeit somewhat politically oversimplified) as it moves forward, but, by that point, audiences may well have lost patience with it (I was admittedly on the verge of turning it off myself after the opening 60 minutes, something I generally never do). It’s also obvious that the material here was exceedingly well researched and incorporates a wealth of revelatory archive footage, both from journalistic and jazz performance sources, qualities definitely worthy of commendation. However, a more fluid, better organized telling of this tale (especially one that doesn’t skip around out of temporal sequence) would have helped immeasureably, as would have a better elucidated nexus between its political and musical aspects. There’s clearly an important story to be told here, but this isn’t the vehicle for doing so.

Reviewed by CinemaSerf 7 / 10

This documentary is a serious testament to the

This documentary is a serious testament to the archivist's art as it pieces together an impressive array of imagery of the great and the good of American Jazz and combines that with some intimate actuality of the turbulence ongoing in the Congo as it strived for independence. Why might anyone care about the future of an impoverished African nation that had all but bankrupted it's "owner" - King Leopold II of Belgium? Well that's because it holds enormous deposits of the uranium required by both the West and the Soviets - and that's just the start of it's reputedly $23 trillion worth of mineral assets. Emerging from the populace to lead this new country is Patrice Lumumba. He's an articulate man who unlike so many who took their nations out of colonial-hood, is not constantly bedecked in medals and ribbons with armed men at his back. What we see over the next couple of hours uses a superb musical soundtrack from the likes of Nina Simone, Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis - you name it, to provide a backdrop to CIA shenanigans, petulant strops from Nikita Khruschev, accusatory comments from just about everyone from Malcolm X to Fidel Castro and some extremely cynical insights into the Eisenhower presidency's approach to this man; to the problems he may bring or solve and to the precedents he was bound to set. As you'll expect, this freedom fight is tied-in closely with the fight for desegregation and equal/human rights for African American people and it uses that platform to illustrate just how ineffective the US-dominated United Nations was at brokering anything akin to a peaceable solution that was in anyway neutral or beneficial to the populace of this vast territory. The secession of Katanga - where the mining was at it's more lucrative and the privatisation of it's principal enterprise ensured that the West still pulled the strings, sets the tone for the final phase of the history and it's tragic conclusion. I knew some of this but I wasn't aware of just how exploitatively the American administration used unwitting people, many globally recognised household hames and who were still treated as second-class citizens (if citizens at all) at home, to peddle a political message of brotherhood and unity in Africa and at just how effective these deceptions were whilst the CIA experimented with new ways of assassinating. There's an arrogance here that's writ large as the local population are treated with a casual disdain that makes your flesh crawl. Fans of jazz will love the accompaniment which mixes some characterful performances of the more famous pieces of music from the genre with some more specifically written and delivered themes that directly address the issues of slavery, exploitation and freedom that led to a protest within the impotent General Assembly chamber itself. It is curious that many of the criticisms levelled at the UN in the mid 1960s are just as valid today, and that little progress as been made changing the format that was established by world powers in the 1940s whose "permanent" roles embedded in the political infrastructure remain unaffected sixty years later. This isn't a film about corporate greed, it's one about political influence and domination and has been thoughtfully put together to open a hornet's nest. Did you know that Dizzy Gillespie actually ran for US President?

Reviewed by pinkmanboy 9 / 10

Improvising Freedom

"Soundtrack to a Coup d'État" feels more like a jam session of ideas and emotions than a straightforward history lesson. Directed by Belgian filmmaker Johan Grimonprez, the documentary blends music, politics, and collective memory to transport us to post-independence Congo and dive into the tragedy of Patrice Lumumba's fall. It's a powerful mosaic where every element-from archival footage to the jazz-heavy soundtrack-contributes to a dynamic portrait of a historic moment filled with promises, betrayals, and echoes that still resonate today.Right from the start, the film sets its tone by weaving vibrant footage of newly independent Congo with electrifying performances by jazz legends like Nina Simone and Louis Armstrong. The music isn't just background noise-it's a crucial part of the narrative, capturing both the optimism and the chaos of that era. Grimonprez uses jazz as a living metaphor for the political and social improvisation that defined the struggle for independence amidst Western powers' scheming. Every off-key note and unexpected pause mirrors the turbulence of a Congo striving to shape its own future while external forces worked to keep it chained to the past.The documentary's non-linear structure is utterly fascinating, jumping between decades, events, and cultural contexts. This approach might feel disorienting at first, but it's a deliberate choice that reflects the complex history Grimonprez aims to unravel. There's no attempt to smooth over or simplify the narrative; instead, the film demands your full attention, pushing the audience to deeply engage with the events on screen. This fragmented style is also a reminder that colonialism and its aftermath aren't linear stories-they're scars that continue to branch out, connect, and reverberate.At the heart of the film is Patrice Lumumba, a pulsating symbol of hope and tragedy. Grimonprez emphasizes his revolutionary vision and martyrdom without holding back. Lumumba is portrayed as a messianic figure, a leader whose dream of a sovereign Congo and a unified Pan-Africanism was as inspiring to his people as it was threatening to colonial powers. Here, the film takes on a heavier tone, showing how his vision was systematically dismantled through calculated assassinations, coups, and political manipulation.Grimonprez also masterfully examines the intersections of culture and politics. The tours of musicians like Armstrong and Simone are contextualized as part of Western powers' soft diplomacy strategies, while the music they performed in turn became a form of cultural resistance. This duality-of artists often unknowingly serving imperialist interests while their songs inspired revolutionary movements-is one of the documentary's most tragic and thought-provoking aspects.Perhaps the film's greatest strength lies in its ability to turn historical facts into a visceral experience. Its sharp editing connects archival footage of Lumumba's speeches, contemporary Congo scenes, and modern ads from brands like Tesla and Apple, drawing provocative parallels between colonial exploitation and present-day systems of extraction and inequality. It's a stark reminder that history doesn't just repeat itself-it evolves, often disguising its predatory core.Even with its hefty runtime of 150 minutes, the film rarely loses its momentum. If the pacing occasionally feels slower, it's due to the sheer density of the material rather than any narrative misstep. Grimonprez seems more interested in overwhelming the audience with information than delivering a neatly packaged story. While this can be exhausting, it's immensely rewarding for those willing to dive into its depths.Ultimately, "Soundtrack to a Coup d'État" isn't just a tribute to Lumumba or a study of Congo's past. It's a call to reflect on how music, culture, and politics are intertwined in a constant cycle of oppression and resistance. This is a film that challenges us to look beyond the headlines and listen to the stories that linger in the spaces between the notes-stories of struggle, loss, and the relentless pursuit of freedom.

Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat

2024 [FRENCH]

Action / Documentary / Music

Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat

2024 [FRENCH]

Action / Documentary / Music

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Movie Reviews

Perhaps the most important objective of a documentary

This documentary is a serious testament to the

Improvising Freedom

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