Grey Matter (2011)
- General info
- Available formats
- Synopsis:
Balthazar (Hervé Kimenyi) is a young African filmmaker on the brink of directing his first project, The Cycle of the Cockroach, a fictional story about a young woman who survived unspeakable atrocities only to find herself committed to the same mental institution as a man driven insane by the crimes he perpetrated during the war. Potential funders for the film insist the themes are too bleak and pessimistic-they encourage Balthazar to make a "message" film that raises awareness about gender-based violence or HIV/AIDS instead. But he refuses to give up. Instead of telling his production team the news, Balthazar continues preparations for the film without financing or equipment. After rehearsing a scene with each of the characters, reality blurs and scenes from the script materialize, provoking the question: Can a film like this exist only in the director's dreams? Armed with a daring and creative visual language, writer/director Kivu Ruhorahoza boldly grasps at the illusory trick of representation in the wake of trauma and its ensuing madness. Paralleling the protagonist in his film, Ruhorahoza's debut marks the very first feature-length narrative film directed by a Rwandan filmmaker living in his homeland. - Actors:
- Ramadhan Bizimana, Tamim Hakizimana, Kennedy Jones Mazimpaka, Jean Pierre Kalonda, Hervé Kimenyi, Natasha Muziramakenga, Juma Moses Nzabandora, Nirere Shanel, Jp Uwayezu
- Directors:
- Kivu Ruhorahoza
- Producers:
- Dominic Allen, Kivu Ruhorahoza
- Writers:
- Kivu Ruhorahoza
- Aka:
- Matière Grise
- Genres:
- Drama
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Reviews (1) of Grey Matter
No Comfort, No Closure - Grey Matter review by griggs
The title Grey Matter says it all — the brain as a site of illness, memory, and trauma, but also the grey zones left after mass violence, where victims, perpetrators, and survivors blur together. It’s a heavy premise, and the film never tries to make it easy.
The pacing is slow, sometimes grinding, and the shifts into surreal territory can feel jarring. I’ll admit there were moments I wished it would move faster or give me a clearer thread to hold onto. But that’s exactly the point: it refuses the neatness of “healing” or “moving on,” showing instead how the past clings, shaping the present in ways you can’t just sweep aside.
What won me over is its honesty. Stark, strange, and sometimes frustrating, yes — but also purposeful. It doesn’t hand you comfort or closure, and that’s its power — memory isn’t neat, so why should the film be?