Sanders of the River (1935) is one of the Korda Brothers' most problematic movies. One critic called it England's Birth of a Nation, laying bare the racial and political biases of its era. This makes it an easy target for "politically correct" viewers, yet its inert, somewhat sloppy structure does it no favors either. Modern viewers will likely view it as a curio.
Nigeria is a British colony governed by the wise Commissioner Sanders (Leslie Banks). Good "Lord Sandy" exerts a firm but fair rule over Nigeria's chieftains, befriending Bosambo (Paul Robeson). When Sanders leaves the colony, the tribesmen stir up trouble. The Old King (Tony Wayne), resentful of Bosambo's power and influence, declares war. The new commissioner (Martin Walker) proves unable to deal with the rising, forcing Sanders to return and clear things up.
Sanders of the River makes for odd viewing. Director Zoltan Korda's episodic structuring feels like a silent movie, consisting of tableaux and self-contained set pieces. Much of the show consists of tribal ceremonies and musical numbers, which occasionally impress but largely bog down the narrative. For that matter, the movie's surprisingly short on action, with only two set pieces and some smaller bursts of violence. Those expecting a straightforward adventure like Korda's The Four Feathers might be disappointed.
By 1935 standards, Sanders of the River is impressive. The Kordas filmed extensively on location in Nigeria, a rarity for any film of that era, let alone the chronically cash-strapped British industry. Much of the second unit work captures tribal ceremonies, providing an almost docudrama feel, along with exotic animal footage. One effective montage has tribal drums beating out a war call, intercut with hyenas and hippos running wild. It's a powerful sequence, representing the elemental forces unleashed by Sanders' departure. It also points up the movie's most obvious flaw.
Sanders' racial content is harder to ignore than in, say, Gunga Din. The movie opens with a dedication to the Britons engaged in "protecting" their African subjects. The movie's main thrust is that without British rule, Africa degenerates into tribal squabbling. It's an appealing myth that absolves empire builders of responsibility for the chaos left behind; it's not British divide-and-rule and dismantling of social structures, but Africans' murderous nature. Later British movies like Simba and Guns at Batasi reiterate the same theme.
Perhaps it's unfair to harp on this angle. For one, blackface is refreshingly absent. And Sanders does give its African characters more agency than many of its contemporaries. Bosambo in someways transcends stereotype: he's got a wife (Nina Mae McKinley) and family, proves a tough warrior and wise leader of men. Even the villainous King is smart enough to manipulate his fellow tribes, while resenting the white gunrunners who trick him into war. But the final reels make Sanders' message plain: Africans need the white man to get along in the world.
Paul Robeson loudly disowned the movie: hoping to play a dignified African chieftain, he saw Bosambo's dignity diluted through re-shoots and editing. The contrast between Robeson and Korda's intentions comes off in the finished show. Robeson makes Bosambo compelling through sheer charisma, belting out his melodramatic war songs with gusto, and commanding every scene. Yet the character misses a chance to really develop, becoming a slightly more assertive Uncle Remus-type: submissive, cheerful, eager to please.
The supporting cast registers little. In the title role, Leslie Banks is so stiff and upright he's almost a parody. Nina Mae McKinley has some nice scenes sparring with Bosambo, but never gains depth. Tony Wane makes a charismatic villain. Jomo Kenyatta, the future President of Kenya, appears in a brief role.
Sanders of the River probably didn't raise an eyebrow when first released. Today it's badly dated, and not just for the obvious reasons. It's still worth watching, but not necessarily as intended.
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