" Black Butterflies "

Verdict : 7/10
Year: 2011
Directed by: Paula van der Oest

Starring: Carise VanHouten- Ingrid
Liam Cunningham - Jack Cope

Black Butterflies is based on a true story of an African (white) poet named Ingrid Jonker.









The film narrates about the life of a great poet, then, struggling for freedom, justice, acceptance, in search of her identity and love that she couldn't sought from her father.





It starts off with a simple childhood living near the sea, being carefree and barefoot, but all that childhood memories were shattered when her mother died and
both, here sister and Ingrid were forced to live with their father, who couldn't seem to love them, less care for them.
Distraught by his father and a failed marriage, she instantly fell hopelessly in love with writer Jack Cope.
But John, who is a political writer as well wasn't accepted by Ingrid's father, who
I think plays the President of Censorship.



John's romance with Ingrid suddenly turned bitter.
Him, still facing a messy divorce, while her, became clingy to the point that he couldn't write anymore.





Deeply affected by this, again, affecting her mental stability.
She had an abortion and life became more miserable than ever.





In the end, Ingrid's psychological imbalance got the best of her, a few attempted suicides, allegedly having multiple affairs, raising a kid.
She finally committed suicide and was found at sea.






I'm not familiar with African writers/poets, so this is an interesting film for me.
Although, her life story is a bit predictable like any other tragic artists, faced in a cul-de-sac situation of lost and sadness.

I could still say it's a good film, blended with inspiring and touching poetic verses, a nice setting esp. the beach view.
I wish the story didn't focus too much on depression and her illness but on her writings and her talent as well.





In 1994, Nelson Mandela read one of her famous poems called Die Kind= The Child, dedicated during the Sharpeville Massacre in Africa, where Apartheid was a great issue during that time.






" The child that died at Nyanga "

The child is not dead

The child lifts his fist against his mother

Who shouts Africa! Shouts the breath

Of freedom and the veld

In the shanty-towns for the cordoned heart

The child lifts his fist against his father

In the march of the generations

Who are shouting Afrika! Shout the breath

Of righteousness and blood

In the streets of his embattled pride

The child is not dead

Not at Langa nor at Nyanga

Nor at Orlando nor at Sharpeville

Nor at the police station in Philippi

Where he lies with a bullet through his head

The child is the shadow of the soldiers

On guard with their rifles saracens and batons

The child is present at all assemblies and legislation

The child peers through the windows of houses and into the hears of mothers

This child who just longed to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere

The child grown into a man treks on through all Africa

The child grown into a giant journeys over the whole world

Carrying no pass