"Furcy, né libre" or how to dehumanize the storytelling about slavery
Having freedom isn’t enough; what can you do with such freedom in a slavery system? This is the question that “Furcy, né libre” [Furcy, born free] sidesteps, leaving it up to viewers to fill in the gaps that French cinema leaves in the history of slavery.
On November 6th, 2025, I attended a preview screening of this new artistic take on slavery. Directed by French rapper and filmmaker Abd Al Malik and written by Etienne Comar, this film is a loose adaptation of the true story of Furcy as told by Mohammed Aïssaoui in “L’Affaire de l’esclave Furcy” (The Furcy Slave Affair).
After Simon Moutaïrou's “Ni Chaîne, Ni Maître” [No Chain, No Master] in 2024, I knew what to expect as soon as the poster for “Furcy, né libre” was posted online: beautiful cinematography and beautiful music. I had no expectations in terms of representation, especially since Abd Al Malik had already said in an interview that it wasn't a film about slavery but a questioning of abolition, justice, and education. What interests him is telling the story of what came after and the link with our present... except that he doesn't contextualize his message.
Reunion Island, 1817. Upon his mother's death, the slave Furcy discovers documents that could make him a free man. With the help of an abolitionist prosecutor, he embarks on a legal battle for the recognition of his rights.
Karukerament express analysis
A specific date BUT no connection to the political context. A French colony BUT no connection to France. A Black character with no identity and no connection to his community BUT he is a local Black man. A white savior character BUT no antagonistic slave owner. A power dynamic of one man against the system BUT no physical violence?
The synopsis doesn’t reflect Abd Al Malik's poetic storytelling BUT corresponds to the approximate French approach, which doesn't allow us to grasp the reality of this era. Despite the director's intention to avoid gratuitous violence (and we could debate this point), the film doesn’t escape the instrumentalization of suffering. Yes, the entire period of slavery symbolizes human cruelty... but it is also defined by the capacity for resistance and organization in order to continue living. It's as if Furcy has no existence outside of his interactions with White people. He has ties to other Black people, BUT they aren’t shown, OR their relationship doesn’t exist independently. And that is the big difference between films about slavery made with an internalized colonial filter and films made by filmmakers who know how to play with the colonial filter.
Representing slavery by playing with the colonial filter
Films such as “Case Départ”, “Ni Chaîne, Ni Maître”, and “Furcy, né libre” remain within the realm of philosophical representations of universality and the reality of abuse. I am not saying that this is a good or bad thing. I'm just saying that it's a conventional and reassuring narrative for those who cannot conceive of Black people as human beings with complex emotions who are entitled to joy and gentleness. This story of Furcy's struggle hides the story of what life can be like for a freed man in his twenties. Especially in 1817, when the system was falling apart. Historians, particularly Frédéric Régent, have written extensively about free people of color since the early 2000s, so that French audiovisual narratives can finally be enriched by the stories of these free Black people throughout the era of slavery.
As Abd Al Malik pointed out, you can't tell everything in 90 minutes, and he is not a historian. Nevertheless, it is a conscious decision to keep the dynamics of solidarity within non-white communities* in the dark. It is a conscious decision not to name these non-white figures. It is a conscious decision to give them so little voice in a story in which they are supposed to be the central theme. It is a conscious decision to deprive them of their struggles.
“What is the most important factor in the fight for abolition: uprisings or changes in case law? And how does this compare with Saint-Domingue?” a young woman asked during the post-screening discussion.
Her question was met with silence, which I chose to interpret as astonishment. Astonishment because, once spoken aloud, this question seemed logical after spending more than an hour and a half watching a character prove his humanity in the face of the law. Astonishment because people may have realized that they had seen several films about slavery but still lacked the factual knowledge to have a clear answer on this matter.
For Abd Al Malik, it all depends on the place we're talking about, but in truth, everything is important... Certainly, but there are many ways to tell this story, because this question reflects the public's thirst for knowledge, the desire to understand what remains “hidden,” the desire to know those who lived through this history firsthand. The director's vague response reflects this lack of knowledge about how Black and Asian communities organized themselves at the time to survive under the slave system. One could argue that this was not the point of the film. But there is a difference between not talking about a supportive community and pretending it doesn't exist. Why doesn't the representation of hope built on community, including Black and Asian people, inspire us more?
Once again, there are several possible answers. Films such as Christian Lara's “Sucre Amer” and “1802, l'épopée guadeloupéenne” [episode], Euzhan Palcy's “Les Mariés de l'Isle Bourbon,” Jean-Claude Barny's “Tropiques Amers” [episode], “Ici S'achève le monde connu” by Anne-Sophie Nanki [episode] have offered different perspectives. However, what they have in common is that they prioritize one question: “How do we build community?” Their main characters don’t exist solely in terms of their status in the eyes of the law. They also exist simply as human beings, with all the complexity of the choices they must make in order to stay alive. How can one maintain and preserve one's humanity in this kind of context? In their account of slavery, individual stories aren’t a pretext for describing the system or questioning universal principles. In their account of slavery, individual stories serve to understand intra/inter-community dynamics. Their characters continue to live their experiences as human beings, despite the cruelty of the system.
“I loved the film. I’ve seen a lot of films about slavery, and every time I watch one, I feel this anger inside me and I don’t know what to do with it,” a young man said during the post-screening discussion.
How can we dehumanize the narrative of slavery? By aestheticizing the suffering of Black people instead of also aestheticizing their joys.
How can we keep a dark part of French history in the shadows? By depicting the creativity with which millions of women, men, and children were exploited instead of depicting the creativity these people used to survive.
It's normal to feel this anger because films like “Furcy, né libre” (Furcy, Born Free) or “Ni Chaîne, Ni Maître” (No Chains, No Master) offer no prospect of healing. After emancipation, some were allowed to remain in servitude on the plantation. Others were free to leave, but what became of them? How did they live within the system? How did they resist within the system? What were the prospects for their children, who were born free within the system? Do you know of any French examples that answer these questions?
Creating alternatives
I often say that there are two types of people in this world: those who have read Beverly Jenkins and those who haven't. Her novels restore humanity and complexity to Black Americans [dubbed episode]. I find the same approach in Alain Bidard's “Battledream Chronicle” [episode]. It's a desire I felt in the novels “Le Chant des fromagers” by Sébastien Mathouraparsad and “Karukera, les légendes de Kaïa” by M.K Jirha, even if the execution left me perplexed. As discussed with Dr. Dexter Gabriel [episode], audiovisual narratives about, or at least set during, slavery can no longer be content with simply depicting abuse. And having Black people involved in the design/production/writing is no guarantee that the narrative will be free of colonial filters. Perhaps one day, French cinema will offer us a representation of dignity without resorting to death or struggle to prove its humanity. The life of Casimir Fidèle, highlighted by Julie Duprat's work, ticks all the boxes for a successful narrative. The industry may be reluctant to finance these alternative visions, but the questions at the end of the screening proved to me that the audience is ready to move forward.
**As with “NCNM” and the representation of locals, I didn't understand the place of Indians in the system at the time. People from Réunion island said they felt represented, but apart from the landscapes and the one sequence in Creole, how were non-White people represented?