Our Time Will Come

After years of uncertainty and involuntary exile, Siaka from Gambia and his wife Victoria have returned to their “homeland” Austria to build a stable existence and start a family. For over a year, Ivette Löcker accompanies the couple, whose longing for carefree love and the feeling of arrival are not being fulfilled without meeting a certain amount of resistance. In order to stay together, they have to continue fighting their way through the bureaucratic jungle. Victoria tries to find her way back to a “normal” life as a graphic designer, while Siaka’s precarious job situation still stands in the way of his participating in society and being accepted by it. 

The two of them invest a large part of their energy in achieving their shared utopia, but cultural differences remain significant, social structures remain immobile, and their own history and traditions are just as hard to shake off. Siaka is in his mid-thirties and already exhausted by life, by the challenges that stand in his way and interfere with his relationship on a daily basis. And he is tired of keeping quiet about his pain.  

Even though a new phase of his life is already awaiting him, Siaka is haunted by traumas from the past. In one pivotal scene, he tells Victoria of his urgent need to talk in front of the camera about his experiences of hardship, discrimination, and racism. He believes this is necessary to provide a tangible image, not only of their own personal reality, but also of the everyday reality of many other people. Victoria agrees, but she also wants the positive aspects of their relationship to have a future. 

“Racism is a sickness. A sickness for the human society. A sickness that will never cure. Unless you use your power to stop it.” Löcker knows how to use her position as a documentarian effectively. Her multi-layered portrait of a relationship that shakes up hegemonic notions unfolds, but not without ambivalences, always provoking reflection on our own prejudices. Even though – or precisely because – the director remains invisible, dispenses with voiceover, and only once gets involved in the action from off-screen, she highlights a clearly humanistic attitude. This is already seen in the prologue, as well as in a scene where Siaka and a friend clear a garden of weeds with their bare hands in a very short time, and not without some kidding around about the Austrians’ work ethic. Löcker’s solidarity is with the marginalized perspectives, which she once again places at the center of her observation in order to give space to their voices instead of talking about them. (Michelle Koch)

(Translation: John Wojtowicz)