Since 2008, albinos in Tanzania have become human targets. Witch doctors offer huge sums of cash for their body parts to be used in magic potions. From 2008 to 2010, more than 200 witch-doctor inspired murders occurred. As a local saying goes: “Albinos do not die, they just disappear.” This is the story of Alias, an albino boy on the run. After his father’s murder, his mother sends him to the city. His uncle Kosmos, a truck driver, takes care of him. Alias learns fast in the city, selling sunglasses, DVDs and cellphones, it will not take long before the boy experiences at first hand the difficulties of life and of being different.
"It’s an extraordinary work, half magical-realist fable, half anthropological essay, marbled with moments both of transcendent beauty and dirt-poor grit. The sometimes stylised camerawork by Armin Dierolf and Deshe himself is frequently arresting in itself, while the sound design meshes to startling effect with the score’s rumbling, synth-driven droning. But at the heart of all this artistry lies a touching story of friendship, new love, and recurrent loss, anchored by a bravura performance by lead Bazili, a non-professional actor of immense promise. (Leslie Felperin, in: The Guardian)
Since 2008, albinos in Tanzania have become human targets. Witch doctors offer huge sums of cash for their body parts to be used in magic potions. From 2008 to 2010, more than 200 witch-doctor inspired murders occurred. As a local saying goes: “Albinos do not die, they just disappear.” This is the story of Alias, an albino boy on the run. After his father’s murder, his mother sends him to the city. His uncle Kosmos, a truck driver, takes care of him. Alias learns fast in the city, selling sunglasses, DVDs and cellphones, it will not take long before the boy experiences at first hand the difficulties of life and of being different.
"It’s an extraordinary work, half magical-realist fable, half anthropological essay, marbled with moments both of transcendent beauty and dirt-poor grit. The sometimes stylised camerawork by Armin Dierolf and Deshe himself is frequently arresting in itself, while the sound design meshes to startling effect with the score’s rumbling, synth-driven droning. But at the heart of all this artistry lies a touching story of friendship, new love, and recurrent loss, anchored by a bravura performance by lead Bazili, a non-professional actor of immense promise. (Leslie Felperin, in: The Guardian)