Runtime: 93 minutes

Written and directed by: Rosine Mbakam

Starring: Pierrette Abouheu Njeuthat, Léonce Sonia Bangoub, Duval Franklin Nwodu Chinedu, Marguerite Mbakop

By Sarah Manvel

What makes “Mambar Pierrette” special is how ordinary it is. This is perhaps damning with faint praise, but to see what feels like a mumblecore indie movie about a struggling single mother in Douala, Cameroon is just magnificent. 

Mambar (Pierrette Abouheu Njeuthat) is a seamstress who runs a little shop centered around her ancient sewing machine – it’s a Pfaff, easily a hundred years old, but it still works thanks to the local repairman. The new school year is starting, so parents are commissioning the year’s uniforms for their children, meaning it’s a busy time. At night Mambar (who is known interchangeably by either her given name or her surname) leaves her machine under the protection of the family who lives by her shop, which includes a teenage daughter, Léonce (Léonce Sonia Bangoub) who often stops by to chat. There’s plenty of chatting, from customers, from passersby, from various friends and neighbours. Mambar knows everyone’s plans, and secrets, and goals for their lovely new clothes. 

But life is not all lovely, of course. Mambar’s finances are so precarious at one point she has to borrow money from her son Duval (Duval Franklin Nwodu Chinedu). Her children’s father has skipped out, sending no money, but since they never married she has no automatic right to pursue him for child support. Anyway her mother (Marguerite Mbakop) says that she shouldn’t, and that the shame of having children outside of marriage shouldn’t be added to by pursuing him in court. But Mambar has her own ideas, and friends to go dancing with, and her excellent reputation as a seamstress, fast and fairly priced. Rosine Mbakam’s script and Fiona Braillon’s cinematography shows the relentlessness of the problems which are piling up around Mambar’s feet, but you somehow get the sense she is equal to them. She has her business, and her community, and her belief in her ability to get the job done. Of course, she can never stop – something which she says over and over again – but you also get the sense she doesn’t really want to. She likes her life, her independence, and her ability to take care of herself and her family. Even the landlord who extorts the electricity bill and even the men who beg for handouts at her door can see that this is a capable and confident woman, who just needs a bit of a break, for the rain to let up, just a little, and then she’ll be completely fine. 

An American movie would have twisted the knife, a British movie would have treated her struggles with contempt, a French movie would have added an implausible romance. But this Cameroonian movie lets Mambar’s sense of humour and work ethic do its own talking. It’s a really delightful experience.