Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat

Some have suggested that A Soundtrack to a Coup d'État is a good starting point for its subject, I couldn’t disagree more. This documentary deserves real love and dissection, but it’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay. 

This film is for Cold War enthusiasts, especially those familiar with the African independence movement and the Congo’s independence movement. If you don’t already know who Patrice Lumumba was, or the details surrounding his assassination by political rivals, the Belgian government, and the CIA, this might leave you frustrated. It could spark your interest, but it won’t educate you. However, for those already steeped in history, it offers an extraordinary level of detail on Lumumba’s assassination and its global aftermath—insights I hadn’t seen before.

Jazz lovers will also find something here—but with a catch. The film mashes up iconic jazz tunes from the late '50s and early '60s, slicing them into quick snippets that fail to let the music breathe. It’s a documentary about jazz, but it’s impatient with the music itself.

I stil found a lot that I liked. This film touches on the country’s central role in both world wars, its struggle for independence, and its exploitation during the Cold War. One of the most striking sequences juxtaposes footage of Western powers willing to sacrifice Congolese lives for their own geopolitical interests with sleek, modern ads for products—like iPhones and Teslas—that depend on the resources stolen from Congo to exist.

But as A Soundtrack to a Coup d'État wore on (and it is fucking long), I found myself wanting it to slow down. I really wanted complete jazz performances instead of its fast-paced, fragmented editing. At times, the jazz angle feels shoehorned in to make the story “cool,” even though some segments—like Louis Armstrong’s unease about being used as a tool of U.S. propaganda—offer genuine insight. There’s so much more to explore here. A whole film could focus on Amiri Baraka and Maya Angelou’s powerful protests at the UN following Lumumba’s murder.

In short, if you’re already familiar with anti-colonial, Cold War, and African independence history—or jazz history—this is a must-watch. If not, at least read up on Lumumba’s story beforehand. The real history is far more tragic, and its consequences far more enduring, than the film’s frenetic style lets on.