‘Sudan, Remember Us’ review: A state of two civilizations

Sudan, Remember Us shows life under military versus civilian rule and lets the viewer decide which government offers a better life.

Spanning from April 2019 through April 2023, French journalist and director Hind Meddeb’s documentary focuses on the streets of Sudan’s capital, Khartoum, and the citizens’ journey from peaceful protestors to persecuted before being forced into exile. The protests are filled with poetry, music, visual art, food and charity, but they are often met with violent reprisals. Sudan, Remember Us wonders if there will ever be a Sudanese citizen-led government without interference.

While the relatively younger Western civilizations are dumbing down thanks to dependence on AI and deliberate diluting of public education, the society of Sudan, which has existed since ancient times (BC), are still going strong with a people affluent in intellect, culture and community as reflected in Sudan, Remember Us. All the protestors are casually well-versed in talents that are rare to find elsewhere and spontaneously burst into their own poetry or quote excerpts from the famed poets of their nation. As one poet is going strong, a bystander silently and unobtrusively hands him a beverage then another takes over the soliloquy then they smoothly take turns orating.

A new look into Sudan.

Photo Credit: Watermelon Pictures

Sudan, Remember Us is not a typical documentary with a narrator and talking heads providing context to bring the moviegoers up to speed. The only narration comes in the form of letters or actual voicemail messages that rise to the level of a Ken Burns documentary using famous actors reading letters that ordinary people from a more literate time. Meddeb embeds with the welcoming, mostly young Sudanese people, which consists of women, including those who dress in a manner that reflects that they are observing Muslims. These images contrast with prevailing news footage of majority Muslim countries with a male-dominated population brandishing weapons or oppressing women, which includes the horrifying mass sexual assault on former CBS journalist Lara Logan in Egypt, Sudan’s neighbor, on February 11, 2011.

But first, a brief history lesson: After leading a coup against the democratically elected government, Omar Hassan Ahmad al-Bashir went from Sudanese Army brigadier general to the president of the Republic of Sudan in 1989. 20 years later, the International Criminal Court looked to prosecute him for human rights violations. Protests started in December 2018 to remove him from power, which lead to a military coup ousting him on April 11, 2019. On June 3, 2019, a massacre ended the protests. In September 2019, a Transitional Military Council mixed with military and civilian members promised to exchange power every eighteen months, but when the military’s turn ended in October 2021, General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan led another military coup, which is the prelude to the eventual civil war that is still occurring today and led to most of the protestors fleeing to other countries.

Meddeb conveys most of this through footage from these pivotal points. Introducing the desolate unpopulated streets in April 2023 shows the civil war’s impact on the once-vibrant community. The film then rewinds to the protest four years earlier with the vibrant night life of respectable revolutionary men and women. It’s as jubilant as New Year’s Eve in Times Square with homespun entertainment. The post-massacre debrief is resolute and hopeful since many goals were accomplished. Fast-forwarding to the next coup shows a more cautious community as internal displacement from homes becomes necessary to avoid danger. Eventually the gathering stops, and Meddeb shows people alone at home, unbowed but waiting for the other shoe to drop. One man is chopping vegetables at a beautiful wooden table. Another sits on his bed doomscrolling. Though the protests continue, the celebratory atmosphere is now one with mourning, gas masks and motorcyclists acting like ambulances.

The world is watching.

Photo Credit: Watermelon Pictures

Meddeb uses a few instances of cell phone footage, which could be distracting by creating negative space around the film’s events. It works in Sudan, Remember Us because it’s the starkest visual contrast between civilian and military rule. During civilian rule, the documentary format uses an immersive approach to put the audience within the vibrant population. The sudden switch to cell phone footage has the appropriate distancing effect, shocking viewers by pushing them back. It also makes the violence from the military feel more unreal. Meddeb’s footage of protestors describing the physical reprisals is extremely illuminating. When the cell phone footage shows tents being burned, it’s not obvious that people are still inside and murdered. The soldiers onscreen are aware of the cell phones and threaten to kill people if they say they prefer citizen rule.

Who is a country for if not the people? The military domination offers no life, only dystopia. The civilian rule is like a new renaissance. One scene in Athens Square shows a bustling center filled with political discourse, musical performances and al fresco dining. Military domination disperses a country’s vital resources to the highest bidder. While the protestors don’t explicitly draw the connection, it’s easier to relate to their plight if you happen to be from a country where leaders are trying to smother democracy.

The bottom line.

This conflict leaves some aspects of the environment untouched. Maddeb captures the majestic views of the Nile two ways: one with a recorded patriotic revolutionary anthem song, “Land of Goodness,” and again with a memorial poem for those killed in extrajudicial executions. And yet, Sudan, Remember Us stands as an immersive, creative, civic experience. This elevated activism can be the inspiration for nonviolent action whenever a government does not serve the people.

Sudan, Remember Us is now playing in select theaters. Watch the trailer here.

Images courtesy of Watermelon Pictures. Read more articles by Sarah G. Vincent here.

Sarah G. Vincent

Originally from NYC, freelance writer Sarah G. Vincent arrived in Cambridge in 1993 and was introduced to the world of repertory cinema while working at the Harvard Film Archives. Her work has appeared in Cambridge Day, newspapers, law journals, review websites and her blog, sarahgvincentviews.com.