Out of Africa
Revisiting the classics after visiting the continent
"It was Africa distilled up through six thousand feet, like the strong and refined essence of a continent. The views were immensely wide. Everything that you saw made for greatness and freedom, and unequalled nobility.” ∙ Karen Blixen, OUT OF AFRICA
When Out of Africa was released in 1985, I was 8 years old. I watched it with my parents, most likely in our local open-air cinema, Ciné Violetta, most likely while nibbling on a souvlaki. Ciné Violetta has long been gone, as has Karen Blixen’s British colonial Kenya.
Too young to have read the book, I was nonetheless old enough to comprehend that this movie-making business was nothing short of magic. (How did they shoot the lion scenes? Did they really fly over the flamingos?!)
I left the movie theater with a crush on Meryl Streep’s badassness and Robert Redford, the notion that washing your beloved’s hair in nature was the pinnacle of courtship, and a longing to visit the magnificent sites that David Watkin’s camera so gloriously captured.
In August 2023, I made it happen.
Okay, so the animals I saw were a bit less intimidating than in the movie and more likely to burst into singing The Circle Of Life - probably because they ‘ve grown accustomed to crazy humans in metal boxes, shoving cameras and cell phones in their faces.
And the Masai tribe I saw was a bit more approachable than in the movie, offering a song and dance for 20 euro a pop and an exit through the gift shop- probably because they ‘ve realized that the ROI in posing for pictures is greater than maintaining cattle.
While this all makes for great pictures, it’s only part of “real” Africa. I found real Africa to be on the road between attractions. It’s a smile from the gardener making his hat out of palm fronds. It’s waking up with a monkey in your room. It’s gentle hands carving an elephant out of neem wood. It’s singing with the kids in a village kindergarten. It’s wanting to crash a Somali wedding and ending up dancing with the bride’s girlfriends.
Real Africa is raw, grounding, messy, mismatched, and BEAUTIFUL. And I have almost no pictures of that part, because I chose to live it.
"There is a new awareness and curiosity to explore women's roles in their entirety."
∙ Sydney Pollack, 1986
Back home, I rewatched the movie and started on the book. I cried at the movie; I smiled through the book. I won’t compare book to movie- they are different beasts, both significant for their time and creative medium.
In 1937, Karen Blixen felt she needed a male pseudonym (Izak Dinesen) to get her stories published. And in 1985, women were just starting to claim the center of their own cinematic journeys.
If made today, perhaps the movie would focus less on the romantic component and more on Karen Blixen’s other significant relationships, with native Africans, with her staff, and her own voice as a storyteller. I’d bet money the “I happen to be very good at telling stories” tidbit would occupy most of the movie. Also: how fun would it be to see a CGI version of her pet gazelle Lulu, parading around the house with her little bell!
Both book and movie remain timeless in one respect: their real protagonist is Africa. It’s Africa that Karen Blixen had the deepest relationship with, that helped her find and define herself as a woman, as an entrepreneur, as a storyteller.
May we all find our Africa.
“Up in this high air you breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance
and lightness of heart.
You woke up in the morning
and thought:
Here I am,
where I ought to be.”
∙ Karen Blixen