Imagine dedicating three decades of your life to unearthing a truth that has been buried, distorted, and weaponized against your people. This is the reality for Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima, whose monumental historical epic, Black Lions – Roman Wolves, finally premiered at the Berlin Film Festival after a 30-year journey. But here’s where it gets controversial: Gerima’s film doesn’t just recount history—it challenges the very narratives that have shaped our understanding of Italy’s brutal colonial campaign in Ethiopia. And this is the part most people miss: the film is a bold reclamation of a story told through the eyes of the colonizer’s own footage, repurposed to dismantle their lies.
Best known as a pioneer of the L.A. Rebellion movement, Gerima returned to the spotlight with his first feature project since 2008, a staggering 531-minute masterpiece divided into five parts. The film weaves together archival footage—much of it captured by Italian filmmakers under Mussolini’s regime—with contemporary interviews from eyewitnesses, creating a sprawling, unflinching portrait of colonial violence. At the premiere, Gerima shared the stage with fellow L.A. Rebellion comrade Charles Burnett, whose restored 1983 film My Brother’s Wedding also debuted in Berlin. The two legends will co-host a keynote session on February 17, further cementing their impact on cinema.
During the Q&A, Gerima revealed the personal fury that ignited this project: ‘I was fed up with Italians and their fake history of Ethiopia and the Italian invasion,’ he told the audience. ‘Their guilt made them say stupid things that didn’t align with my family’s lived experiences. So, I had to do this film.’ Born in Ethiopia and raised under the ‘miseducation’ of the British-designed school system post-Italian war, Gerima felt compelled to correct the record. ‘I just wanted to learn more,’ he admitted, highlighting the film’s origins as both a personal and political quest.
Here’s the paradox: The very footage Gerima uses to expose Italy’s atrocities was created by the colonizers themselves. ‘My people did not film,’ he noted, ‘so I had to figure out how to use the Italian perspective—often racist and dehumanizing—against itself.’ But this wasn’t just an intellectual challenge; it was a logistical nightmare. For years, Gerima battled to access the archives held in Italy, despite interventions from Italian professors and even the mayor of Rome. ‘It’s a complete frustration,’ he said, ‘trying to gain rights to footage they shot of my people.’
This struggle isn’t over. Gerima is now advocating for a public discussion on film archives, pushing for African filmmakers to have unrestricted access to colonial footage. ‘We have the right to the archive,’ he declared, emphasizing the need for a petition to mobilize support. His partner, Shirikiana Aina Gerima, co-produced the film through their company, Mypheduh Films, which is handling its distribution. Meanwhile, the Berlinale honored Gerima with the prestigious Berlinale Camera award for his lifelong contributions to cinema.
In her statement, Berlinale head Tricia Tuttle praised Gerima’s work as ‘a testament to histories marked by oppression, resistance, and the unfinished work of decolonization.’ Yet, the film’s impact goes beyond accolades. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths: How do we reckon with art born from violence? Can the colonizer’s tools ever truly be turned against them? And what does it mean to reclaim a narrative that was never yours to begin with?
As Black Lions – Roman Wolves continues to screen in Berlin until February 22, one thing is clear: Gerima’s film is more than a historical epic—it’s a call to action. But here’s the question: Will we listen, or will we let this story fade into the archives once again? Let’s discuss in the comments—do you think Gerima’s approach to repurposing colonial footage is revolutionary, or does it risk amplifying the very narratives it seeks to dismantle?
