Black Tea (2024): Abderrahmane Sissako’s Meditative Ode to Love and Displacement
Introduction: A Master Auteur’s Return
After a decade-long hiatus following his Oscar-nominated masterpiece Timbuktu (2014), Mauritanian filmmaker Abderrahmane Sissako returns with Black Tea, a lyrical exploration of cross-cultural connection set against the backdrop of Guangzhou’s African diaspora. Premiering at the 74th Berlin International Film Festival and competing for the prestigious Golden Bear, the film merges Sissako’s signature poetic realism with a deeply personal narrative about identity, betrayal, and reinvention. At its core, Black Tea is less a traditional romance than a sensory journey—one that lingers like the bitter aftertaste of its titular brew.
Plot: A Flight from Tradition to Transformation
A Wedding Scorned
The film opens in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, where 28-year-old Aya (Nina Mélo) stands at the altar in a resplendent white gown, surrounded by family and friends. As the officiant asks, “Do you take this man?”, Sissako cuts to a flashback of Aya discovering her fiancé in a clandestine embrace with her cousin. The scene erupts in chaos as she flees the ceremony, her veil catching on a thorny bougainvillea—a metaphor for societal expectations tearing at her autonomy.
Guangzhou’s “Chocolate City”: A New World
Aya relocates to Guangzhou, China, home to over 200,000 African migrants—a community rarely depicted on screen. She finds refuge in the bustling “Chocolate City” district, where Yoruba, French, and Mandarin intermingle in market stalls selling kente cloth and jade. Here, she secures work at The Jade Leaf, a traditional tea shop run by the stoic Cai (Chang Han), a Taiwanese immigrant grappling with his own ghosts.
Tea as a Language of Love
Cai becomes Aya’s mentor in the art of Chinese tea ceremonies. In a standout sequence, he demonstrates the gongfu cha ritual:
- 00:23:15: Close-ups of calloused hands rinsing pu’erh leaves, the camera lingering on steam curling into shafts of afternoon light.
- 00:27:40: Aya’s first successful brew, her smile reflected in the polished surface of a celadon teacup.
Their relationship deepens through these silent exchanges, but tensions arise when Cai’s estranged wife Ying (Wu Ke-xi) reappears, accusing Aya of “stealing more than tea secrets.”
Cast: Performances That Steep Slowly
Nina Mélo as Aya
The French-Ivorian actress, best known for her role in Girls and Angels (2008), delivers a revelatory performance. Mélo spent three months in Guangzhou’s African enclaves, later telling Le Monde, “I wanted to capture the loneliness of women who rebuild themselves oceans away from home.” Her portrayal of Aya’s quiet resilience—particularly in a haunting scene where she braids a customer’s hair while humming a Bambara lullaby—anchors the film.
Chang Han as Cai
Taiwanese actor Chang Han (Little Big Women) brings understated gravitas to the role. His Cai is a man fractured by regret: flashbacks reveal he abandoned a daughter in Cape Verde to pursue business in China. In a pivotal moment, he confesses to Aya, “Tea leaves sink, but roots float,” symbolizing his unresolved past.
Wu Ke-xi as Ying
Wu (Nina Wu) injects sharp tension as Ying, a woman hardened by abandonment. Her confrontation with Aya in a rain-soaked alley—lit by the neon glare of a Hot Pot Palace sign—is a masterclass in restrained fury.
Director’s Vision: Sissako’s Borderless Cinema
From Moscow to Guangzhou: A Personal Journey
Sissako, who studied film at Moscow’s VGIK under Soviet director Marlen Khutsiev, draws from his own diasporic experiences. “I’ve always lived between worlds,” he noted in a Criterion Collection interview. Black Tea mirrors this duality: though set in Guangzhou, filming occurred entirely in Taiwan after Chinese authorities denied permits—a irony not lost on the director.
Visual Poetry: Collaboration with Aymerick Pilarski
Cinematographer Aymerick Pilarski (Öndög) employs a palette of amber and indigo, evoking the film’s thematic brew of warmth and melancholy:
- Night Markets: Scenes bathed in the sodium glow of street lamps, shadows pooling like ink.
- Mirror Motifs: Aya often framed against reflective surfaces—shop windows, tea trays—symbolizing her fragmented identity.
Themes: Steeping in Silence
1. The Colonialism of the Heart
Sissako subtly critiques neo-colonial dynamics:
- African traders haggle over “Made in China” knockoffs of traditional masks.
- Cai’s tea shop caters to wealthy Chinese clients who are exoticizing African culture.
2. Language Beyond Words
Dialogue is sparse; communication flows through gesture:
- The clink of teacups.
- Aya’s fingers brushing Cai’s during a leaf-sorting ritual.
3. Feminist Reclaiming
Aya’s arc mirrors Sissako’s earlier heroines (e.g., Timbuktu’s Satima), but with added agency. Her final act—opening her own fusion teahouse—subverts the “tragic migrant” trope.
Reception: A Divisive Brew
Praise
- The Hollywood Reporter: “A visually intoxicating study of solitude.”
- BBC Culture: “Mélo’s performance is a revelation—quietly revolutionary.”
Criticism
- Variety: “Overly languid, with subplots that evaporate like steam.”
- Box Office: Grossed **1.2 million∗∗globallyagainsta1.2million∗∗globallyagainsta7 million budget (Box Office Mojo), highlighting its arthouse niche.
Cultural Impact and Legacy
Scholars at the African Film Festival have hailed Black Tea as a landmark in “Afro-Asian cinema,” pairing it with works like Beijing Corner (2023) and Lionheart (2018). The film’s unflinching portrayal of Guangzhou’s diaspora has also sparked debates about China’s “invisible communities” in The Economist.
Final Verdict: A Film to Savor, Not Swallow
Black Tea demands patience—its 138-minute runtime unfolds like a slow pour—but rewards viewers with moments of transcendent beauty. While its narrative pacing may frustrate some, Sissako’s command of visual metaphor (e.g., ants traversing a spilled sugar cube as migrants navigate bureaucracy) cements his status as a modern master.
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Where to Watch: Stream on Criterion Channel or rent via Apple TV.