Watching Gina Prince-Bythewood’s The Woman King is an experience that’s unmistakably bittersweet. The writer-director’s soaring, searing war epic is a triumph any way you slice it, especially for Black women who’ve grown up yearning to see themselves represented on screen with such dignity and purpose. It’s vindicating to finally feast your eyes on the film that languished in development for years, and that its star, Viola Davis, has officially dubbed her “magnum opus.” The actor has been outspoken about the battle to get The Woman King off the ground, to prove that a film made by Black women — and for Black women, and about Black women — can turn a blockbuster profit. It’s a fact that Hollywood at large seems determined to turn a blind eye to. But the numbers are there, if you’ve got the guts to look. And The Woman King is sure of its merit whether you’re looking or not.
The Woman King is the latest in a dying breed of bombastic, crowd-pleasing flicks, the kind that make meals out of their grim historical settings. It takes a page from the book of early-aughts blockbusters like Gladiator and The Last Samurai, not unlike another 2022 release: The Northman. It’s been a long time since this kind of film has reigned supreme at any box office, with IP-driven franchises having staked their claim on that market long ago. What sets The Woman King apart is its willingness to embrace the sensibilities of both: the film is stirring, intimate and emotional, but understands the importance of fun and fantasy. Given its complicated subject in the West African kingdom of Dahomey, which openly benefitted from the slave trade, a bit of revisionism is also a given. It’s not the first to soften the edges of a dark period in history, but it does so with the intent to build a new myth around a lesser-known legend.
From the outset, the all-female army of Dahomey feel more like mythical warriors than real, flesh-and-blood women. When they arrive at the edge of an enemy camp in the dead of night, their reputation effectively precedes them. They are Agojie, led by Davis’ tough-tender general Nanisca. They answer to no man but their king, no civilian is permitted to look upon them, and they’re rarely defeated in battle — but the grisly fight that opens the film leaves Nanisca in need of stronger warriors all the same. Prince-Bythewood makes quick work to correct the Agojie’s untouchable illusion. They are not the immortal Amazons that visiting colonizers compare them to; they bleed like everyone else, and the kingdom they defend is just as vulnerable.
Dahomey is at a crossroads. Its young king Ghezo (a pitch-perfect John Boyega) is under no illusion about the ill-begotten wealth he has inherited with the throne. But the slave trade has become an integral part of life in West Africa: to reject it would mean incurring the wrath of the white men who control the ports and the neighboring Oyo empire, who demand regular tribute in the form of goods and slaves. Only Nanisca has the vision to see another path for the kingdom, one that won’t require another Black body to be sold or shipped to the Americas. She’s also got enough pull with King Ghezo to sway him in the right direction. But their new goal can’t be achieved without risking open war, which brings us back to those warriors the Agojie desperately needs.
Among Nanisca’s promising new recruits is the headstrong, plucky Nawi (Thuso Mbedu). She’s brought to the gates of Ghezo’s palace after refusing to marry her betrothed, an older man who demands “respect” from his women and will dole out abuse in order to get it. Nawi’s father offers her as tribute to the king, but her defiant strength catches the eye of Nanisca’s lieutenant Izogie (Lashana Lynch). She quickly rises through the ranks to become one of Nanisca’s top pupils, and her aforementioned defiance helps her as much as it hinders. Nawi frequently chafes under the Agojie’s many rules and protocols, especially their vow of celibacy. The female warriors surrender their right to marry or have children, trading in the prospect of romantic love for the love of their country and their sisters-in-arms. Of course, this wouldn’t be a Gina Prince-Bythewood film without a little romance, and that manifests with the arrival of Malik (Jordan Bolger), a Portuguese trader with the physique of a Men’s Health cover model and ancestral ties to Dahomey. Nawi’s flirtation with a quasi-colonizer is as much a red flag to audiences as it is to the Agojie.
For all The Woman King has going for it, the film can’t entirely handle the weight of all its disparate subplots. The pace slows down when Malik and Santo (Hero Fiennes Tiffin) arrive in Dahomey to reinforce trade, and there are still more narrative twists that work overtime to connect characters like Nawi and Nanisca. These threads, however, aren’t very effective, if only because Prince-Bythewood and her collaborators — writer Dana Stevens, adapting a story by Cathy Schulman and Maria Bello, cinematographer Polly Morgan, and editor Terilyn A. Shropshire — have already done the work to connect these characters. It’s a shame that they felt the need to bring more blockbuster sensibilities into an already solid film, especially when those same sensibilities blur the lines so casually between fact and fiction.
It’s difficult to celebrate this film with the knowledge of the Agojie’s real-life legacy. The warriors were not the abolitionists depicted in The Woman King, nor was King Ghezo the conflicted ruler that eventually spoke out against the slave trade. In fact, he actively fought to uphold the very systems of oppression that made him rich. The heroes of this story weren’t heroes to everyone. The horrors they inflicted across the West African coast are inextricable from their story… at least, to an extent. While The Woman King addresses Dahomey’s participation in the slave trade, it still reframes the kingdom and its female warriors as champions of freedom. “We fight not just for today,” Nanisca tells her troops, “but for the future.” It’s a touching sentiment, one that draws a clear parallel between their world and our own. It also puts the film firmly in the realm of fantasy, of a revisionist fairy tale — and similar to Nawi’s own Achilles heel, it hurts the film just as much as it helps.
Of course, The Woman King isn’t the first to lionize its problematic subject. It’s not even the first to soften the story of the slave trade to some degree. It stands on the shoulders of every period film that came before it, especially those that create an entirely fictional playground for their reimagined historical figures. If we’re following the tenets of films like Shakespeare in Love or Gladiator, The Woman King is no different from your standard historical epic. Hollywood films have a habit of fudging almost anything for entertainment value. The industry was built on white savior films and revisionist fantasies — most of which either focus on figures who bought and sold slaves, or who benefitted from the slave trade to some degree.
Does that make the revisionism in The Woman King okay? Not necessarily, but it’s also important to understand the differences between African standards for slavery and the uniquely cruel practices that would eventually take hold in the Americas. Dahomey’s participation in the slave trade, while zealous, was much more complex than many realize. It’s unfortunate (to say the absolute least) that The Woman King takes such liberties with such a sore subject — but is it enough to damn the film entirely?
At the very least, The Woman King is a film that understands its strengths. Even at its lowest points, it’s bolstered by the efforts of a dedicated cast and a crew with a mastery for their craft. Lashana Lynch is a standout as the swaggering, whiskey-swilling Izogie. She steals each scene without batting an eye, and her sisterly dynamic with Mbedu informs much of the film’s emotional core. If Lynch is the heart of The Woman King, then Sheila Atim is the soul. As Amenza, Nanisca’s second-in-command and most trusted friend, Atim breathes life into the Agojie spirituality. Their work in The Woman King feels like an affirmation of what their most vocal supporters already know: they’re more than stars in the making, and they deserve projects that can exhibit their impressive talents. The cast is also strengthened by Terence Blanchard’s sweeping score, which punctuates The Woman King in all the right places. Paired with the evocative vocal work of Lebo M. — known best for the Broadway soundtrack for The Lion King — The Woman King indelibly feels like coming home.
As a blockbuster, it’s solid. As a historical epic for the “based on a true story” crowd, it can’t help but leave a bad taste in the mouth. Was it wise for the film to do so with such a notoriously complicated history? And is it wise for audiences to relish in a happy ending, to actively root for these heroes, knowing that they didn’t really exist?
It’s hard not to relish in these lived-in characters after such a drought of representation. It’s hard not to support a film that could represent a watershed moment for Black female representation. But at the same time, it’s hard to plead ignorance to the real history of the Agojie once the truth is made known. That said, I don’t think it has to be a choice between one or the other. It’s possible to celebrate the film while also holding the filmmakers accountable. It’s clear, in so many ways, that The Woman King is designed to celebrate Black women, to portray them not as monsters, not as victims, but as heroes. The film may have lost sight of the best way to tell that story, but the same things that made it great in the first place also keep it from losing its way altogether.
Wow! What a well written and balanced review of this film.