‘Cité Soleil’ a violent tale of Haitian hip-hop gangs

Kam Williams

If you want to get an idea of how much gangsta rap has influenced cultures around the world, check out “Ghosts of Cité Soleil,” a revealing documentary about a bloody turf war between rival gangs inside a notorious Haitian slum. The conflict’s dark twist — that the leaders of the competing posses, Winson “2Pac” Jean and James “Bily” Petit Frère, are brothers who have fallen in love with the same girl, a French missionary named Éleonore “Lele” Senlis — makes Asger Leth’s film all the more compelling.

The gangs operate with the tacit approval of outgoing Haitian President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, whose impending fall provides the backdrop for the film. In fact, these sadistic goons openly brag on camera that they’ve been armed by Aristide to intimidate and eliminate his political enemies, which might explain why the U.S. Marines were deployed to restore law and order.

Throughout “Ghosts,” the screen is filled with unoriginal wannabes sporting nicknames right out of rap videos, such as 2Pac and 50 Cent. And like the icons they adore, they dream of shooting their way out of the ghetto and leaving behind their lives of crime to become famous hip-hop stars. Meanwhile, their behavior mimics the actions their heroes describe in their lyrics — murder, misogyny, smoking weed and lacing their language with profanity and the N-word. At one point, Bily even says of his own sibling, “If 2Pac weren’t my brother, I’d kill him already.” Charming.

The only person who seems perfectly safe is Lele, the two-timing white woman the brothers lust after. She eventually gives her heart to 2Pac and then puts all of her efforts into helping him escape the country. The plan is for them to settle down while he pursues his musical career. And although she succeeds in getting him out, 2Pac soon misses the madness and makes the dubious decision to return to his ’hood.

By film’s end, most of the people in whom viewers have become emotionally invested have either died or disappeared — except, of course, for gun moll Lele, who had the sense to stay put in France. This gritty flick was produced with the help of the famous Haitian hip-hop entertainer, Wyclef Jean.
Fascinating stuff, but this portrait of these scary “altar boys” is probably the last thing that Haiti’s Board of Tourism wants to see in circulation.