Soundtrack to a Coup d'État

This is a film which has a little of Oliver Stone in the way it inhales something eerie and sinister in the atmosphere, and it’s something to set alongside Leon Gast’s 1996 documentary When We Were Kings.

Provoking a bit of confusion is the point. Covert power relies on misdirection, and it is only by looking back that we can sometimes make sense of what happened. That’s why “Soundtrack” lands on a coda.

The film, with its dazzling musical energy, its complex narrative sweep and its dizzying cast of characters, finally emerges as a tragedy: a story of promises broken and trust betrayed.

“Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat” succeeds as an intense piece of reclamation and rejuvenation, giving breath to Lumumba’s spirit by sporting the same kind of defiance the political leader espoused.

It’s an entertaining and instructive documentary that presents a huge canvas on which it masterfully explains a complicated historical moment.

Riveting and propulsive.

One of the most exhilarating and inventive nonfiction pictures of the year

[The film] does have the occasional tonal misstep, and the inconsistent and sporadic placements of modern commercials feels particularly gauche, but it’s all easily forgivable when considering the enormity of the task at hand.

At a certain point, it becomes clear that Grimonprez, in his search for some higher truth ... has lost the plot of his narrative.

Really interesting if perhaps overlong.