Review of Ernest Cole: Lost and Found

Raoul Peck's Ernest Cole: Lost and Found is a poignant exploration of the profound and often overlooked life of South African photographer Ernest Cole. This documentary isn't just a retelling of his story; it's a window into the harsh realities of apartheid through the eyes of an artist both talented and tormented by the times. With Peck at the helm, known for his ability to weave together complex narratives as seen in I Am Not Your Negro, viewers are promised a journey that's as enlightening as it is emotional.

A Visual and Emotional Journey

The documentary is fundamentally a visual feast, leveraging Cole’s rediscovered negatives to convey a haunting narrative that words alone could scarcely capture. Cole’s photographs, primarily in stark black-and-white, challenge viewers to reflect on the brutality of apartheid and the indomitable spirit of those who lived through it. They speak volumes—every image a silent testament to resilience, with a slice of Cole’s own life mirrored in each frame.

Imagine standing amidst these snapshots of history: the steely eyes of miners, the weary faces of domestic workers, children in the street caught in a moment of innocent play. These images pull you in, don't they? They breathe life into a past that feels all too present, especially when juxtaposed with Cole's later work in America, blurring lines between oppression faced both there and here.

Cole's Voice Resurrected

Adding depth to this visual odyssey is the voice-over, articulated with a thoughtful gravitas by LaKeith Stanfield. It’s almost surreal—hearing Cole’s reflections as though whispered from the past, each sentence imbued with both melancholy and determination. Stanfield's portrayal seamlessly bridges the distance between Cole's time and ours, making his struggle and aspiration palpable.

But it’s not just about recounting the past. Peck’s documentary becomes a dialogue—between eras, between struggles, and between figures like Cole and Mandela. However, some might notice a slight scatter in the narrative’s cohesion, occasionally jumping without clear footing from New York City's streets to South African townships. Yet, this might very well mirror the emotional turbulence Cole experienced, displaced and homesick across two continents.

The Peculiarities of Artistic Legacy

A significant focus of the film is the burden of legacy. As Cole’s photographs unveil layers of apartheid’s cruelty, they also reveal his frustration with being boxed into certain artistic expectations—expected to showcase strife over the banality he saw as equally important. Isn’t it fascinating? The world often demands to see an artist’s pain but forgets to honor their creative peace.

Peck touches on these complexities, showing how Cole’s work, stagnated in its own time, found renewed vigor half a century later. The story of his rediscovered negatives is akin to unearthing a time capsule, not just of oppression but also of unending hope. It’s disheartening, though, to see how an artist’s worth was defined by tragedy, a glaring symptom of a society more intrigued by headlines than by humanity.

The Unfolding Story

Ernest Cole: Lost and Found may not provide a linear narrative, but perhaps that's its strength. This isn’t just a film about Ernest Cole; it’s about every untold story of those living under oppressive regimes, their tales scattered yet inexorably linked.

In the end, Peck offers more than a tribute. He invites a new generation to not just see Cole’s world, but to feel it, to question it, and perhaps, to change it. When you watch, you might find yourself doing the same.