Mati diop's 'Dahomey' (2024) decoded

"They told me: these objects are in a coma. They have to go home to wake up." — Mati Diop

In February 2024, at the Berlin International Film Festival, a remarkable thing happened. A documentary about restitution — a subject normally confined to museum conference rooms and academic journals — won the Golden Bear, the festival's highest honour.

The film was Dahomey, directed by Franco-Senegalese filmmaker Mati Diop. It followed the journey of 26 cultural objects from the Musee du Quai Branly in Paris to the Palais de la Presidence in Cotonou, and their eventual return to Abomey. But it was not a conventional documentary. Diop gave voice to the objects themselves. She created space for Beninese students to debate whether restitution mattered at all. She blurred the line between past and present, between object and spirit, between European museum logic and Fon cosmology.

This article offers a detailed analysis of the film: what it does, how it does it and why it matters for anyone interested in Dahomey heritage today.

The context: 26 objects in transit

What the film covers

Dahomey documents the return of 26 cultural objects that France finally agreed to repatriate in 2020. These objects — including the iconic royal statue of King Ghezo, a throne of King Behanzin, royal scepters and ceremonial doors — had been taken by French forces during the 1892 sack of Abomey.

The film follows three phases of the journey:

1. Departure from Paris: The objects are crated, transported and loaded onto a flight at Charles de Gaulle Airport. The process is meticulous, bureaucratic and strangely emotional.
2. Arrival in Cotonou: The objects are received by Beninese officials, academics and cultural figures. The atmosphere is celebratory but also charged with complex feelings.
3. The exhibition and beyond: The objects are displayed at the Palais de la Presidence, and later transferred to Abomey. The film captures the public encounter with objects that had been absent for 129 years.

Beyond the news footage

The return of the 26 objects was widely covered in international media. But Diop's film goes deeper than the news cycle. It asks questions that news coverage rarely touches:

• What does it mean for a sacred object to be a "museum piece"?
• Can objects that were removed by violence ever truly be "returned" when the context they were made for no longer exists?
• Who speaks for the objects? The museum? The state? The descendants of those who created them?

The voice of the objects

The film's boldest choice

The most striking feature of Dahomey is Diop's decision to give voice to the objects themselves. Throughout the film, we hear a voice — deep, resonant, poetic — speaking from the perspective of the 26th object, the royal statue of King Ghezo.

The text, written by novelist Makenzy Orcel, imagines what the statue might say after 129 years in a foreign land. The voice speaks of darkness, of silence, of a coma. It describes the museum as a mausoleum. It speaks French with a Caribbean accent — a choice that connects the objects' exile to the broader African diaspora.

The voice is not sentimental. It is angry, confused, weary. At one point it says: "I have nothing to tell you. I am a closed mouth." This refusal to perform for the camera, to offer easy testimony, is one of the film's most powerful statements. The objects do not owe us their story.

Fon cosmology and the life of objects

This choice is not merely artistic. It is rooted in Fon cosmology. In Fon and Vodoun thought, objects created by human hands for sacred purposes are not inert matter. They carry ase — spiritual force. The royal statues of Ghezo and Glele were not "art" in the European sense. They were embodiments of royal power, inhabited by the spirit of the king they represented.

When French soldiers removed them from Abomey, they were not stealing "art." They were capturing spirits. The 129 years in Paris were not a museum display. They were a spiritual imprisonment. Diop's film, by giving voice to the statue, restores the ontological status that Fon tradition always recognised: these objects are beings, not things.

The student debate: The film's second act

The voices of young Benin

The middle section of Dahomey takes place in a university lecture hall at the Universite d'Abomey-Calavi in Cotonou. A group of Beninese students debate whether the return of the 26 objects matters.

This is the film's most surprising and important sequence. Because the students are not united in celebration. Some are sceptical. Some are angry. Some do not care.

The arguments

The students raise points that rarely appear in European restitution discourse:

"Why 26 objects out of thousands?" — One student points out that France still holds over 5,000 objects from Benin. The return of 26, while welcome, is a fraction. Is it a genuine gesture or a public relations exercise?

"What can we learn from objects we cannot touch?" — Another student questions whether the objects, once placed in a Beninese museum, will be any more accessible to ordinary Beninese than they were in Paris. Museums have entry fees. Museums have glass cases. Will the objects truly "return" to the people?

"Is this what we need?" — A third student asks whether the money spent on repatriation and museum infrastructure might be better spent on schools, hospitals, roads. Poverty is real. Hunger is real. Do objects matter when basic needs are unmet?

"Who decides?" — The students question whether the Beninese government truly represents the Fon people in these negotiations. Is the return a transaction between elites — French and Beninese — while the descendants of those who created the objects have no voice?

Why this matters

Diop does not resolve these questions. She does not need to. By including the student debate, she resists the temptation to make a simple celebratory film. She acknowledges that restitution is not a clean moral story with a happy ending. It is messy, contested and incomplete.

This honesty is part of why the film won the Golden Bear. It is a film about a complex subject that refuses to offer false comfort.

The visual language: Darkness and light

The museum as mausoleum

Diop's visual treatment of the Quai Branly is deliberate. The museum is shot in near-darkness. The objects are barely visible, lit by thin beams of light that seem insufficient. The effect is claustrophobic, funereal. The museum is not a place of enlightenment — it is a place of sleep, of suspended animation.

The crating and transport sequences are shot in close detail. We see the objects wrapped, padded, boxed. The care is professional but the tone is clinical. These objects are being prepared for a journey, but the preparation looks more like an autopsy than a revival.

The arrival in Benin

The shift in visual language when the objects arrive in Benin is striking. Colour returns. The light is warm. Hands touch the crates. The objects are carried through streets where people dance and sing. The contrast could not be clearer: in Paris, the objects were dead. In Benin, they are coming back to life.

The 26 treasures: What came home

The royal statues

The centrepiece of the returned collection is the pair of royal statues depicting King Ghezo and King Glele. These are not portraits in the European sense. They are massive, stylised wooden figures, painted in earth tones, each representing the king through his animal symbol. Ghezo stands on a lion. Glele holds a lion under his foot.

These statues are among the most important objects ever created in West Africa. They were not decorative. They were functional embodiments of royal power, placed at the entrance to the palace where they announced the king's authority to all who approached.

The throne of Behanzin

The returned throne of King Behanzin is a carved wooden object of extraordinary craftsmanship. It is not a seat for comfort — it is a seat for authority, designed to elevate the king above those who approach him. The throne is decorated with symbolic motifs that encode the history of the kingdom.

Other objects

The 26 objects include:

• Recades (royal scepters) — staffs of authority carried by kings and royal messengers
• Ceremonial doors — carved panels from the palace
• Warrior regalia — objects associated with the Mino and the royal guard
• Vodoun-related objects — items used in religious ceremonies
• Personal objects of the kings — items that belonged to the sovereigns

The film's place in the restitution debate

A pivot point

Dahomey arrives at a pivotal moment in the global restitution debate. Since the publication of the Sarr-Savoy Report in 2018, the conversation has moved from "whether to return" to "how to return." But progress has been uneven. France has returned objects to Benin and Senegal, but many other former colonial powers have been slower to act.

Diop's film shifts the terms of the debate. By centering the voices of Beninese students, by giving the objects a voice and by refusing easy answers, she moves the conversation beyond the European museum discourse that has dominated it.

What the film does not cover

The film is not a comprehensive history of the restitution question. It does not cover:

• The full history of the 1892 pillage (for that, see our article on the pillaged treasures of Dahomey)
• The political negotiations between France and Benin that preceded the return
• The ongoing debate over the thousands of objects still in French collections

The film is an intervention, not an encyclopedia. It opens a space for reflection rather than providing closure.

Why it won the golden bear

The Berlin Film Festival jury, led by Lupita Nyong'o, awarded the Golden Bear to Dahomey for its "poetic and political urgency." The film succeeds on multiple levels:

• Artistically: It is formally innovative, blending documentary, fiction and poetic voiceover in ways that resist easy categorisation
• Politically: It engages directly with one of the most important cultural debates of our time without preaching
• Emotionally: It creates space for viewers to feel the weight of what was lost and what might be regained
• Philosophically: It challenges Western assumptions about what objects are and what they mean

Frequently asked questions

Where can i watch 'Dahomey' (2024)?

The film has been distributed internationally since its Golden Bear win. It has screened at film festivals worldwide and is available on select streaming platforms. Check local listings for availability in your region.

What is Mati diop's connection to Benin?

Mati Diop is Franco-Senegalese. Her connection to the subject is through her broader engagement with African diaspora and postcolonial themes, rather than a specific personal link to Benin. Her previous film, Atlantics (2019), also dealt with themes of migration, memory and the unseen.

How many objects did France return to Benin?

In November 2021, France returned 26 objects to Benin. These objects were part of a larger collection of over 5,000 Beninese objects held in French museums, primarily at the Musee du Quai Branly.

Are more returns planned?

The return of the 26 objects was the first phase. Discussions continue about the return of additional objects, including the famous royal statues and other significant pieces. The pace of restitution remains a subject of ongoing negotiation.

How does the film relate to the existing restitution article on this site?

Our article on the pillaged treasures of Dahomey covers the historical background of the 1892 pillage and the broader restitution debate. This article focuses specifically on Mati Diop's film and its contribution to that debate.

Explore more

Mati Diop's Dahomey is a landmark contribution to the conversation about restitution and cultural heritage. For the full historical context of the 26 treasures, read our article on the pillaged treasures of Dahomey. To plan a visit to Abomey and see Dahomey heritage firsthand, see our visit guide.