Jazz, Politics, and Betrayal

A Review of Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat

By Michael Jacobsohn

Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat, directed by Belgian filmmaker Johan Grimonprez, is an extraordinary documentary that I recently had the chance to watch at Film Forum in New York City. For two and a half hours, the film immerses viewers in a dense tapestry of bold headlines, meticulously researched footnotes, grim on-camera testimonies from eyewitnesses, and incredible archival footage—all set against a jazz and blues soundtrack that perfectly complements its harrowing narrative. Without the film’s remarkable score, the overwhelming investigative work might have been too heavy to digest. Grimonprez ingeniously explores the intersection of jazz, politics, and espionage during the Cold War era, crafting a cinematic experience that is as informative as it is unsettling.

It’s rare for a documentarian to delve into the brutal history of Africa’s Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), particularly its tragic post-colonial struggles. The film transports us back to the late 1950s and early 1960s, when many African nations were gaining independence from European colonial powers. At its heart is the 1961 assassination of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first democratically elected leader. The documentary sheds light on how the U.S. government covertly used prominent African American jazz musicians as cultural ambassadors to divert attention from CIA-backed coup activities aimed at undermining Lumumba.

The film vividly portrays the tragic history of Congo—a nation rich in natural resources which colonial powers were unwilling to relinquish control over. Lumumba’s vision for an independent future for his country was met with fierce resistance from global superpowers. His decision to align Congo with the Non-Aligned Nations—a group of countries seeking neutrality during the Cold War—placed his nation in the crosshairs of both the United States and the Soviet Union. As these superpowers vied for influence, Congo became a pawn in their geopolitical chess game, culminating in Lumumba’s assassination and the collapse of democracy in the region.

One particularly striking element of Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat, is its use of archival footage, including repeated clips of Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev famously pounding his fists at the United Nations. This iconic moment underscores the intense political theater surrounding Congo’s crisis. Khrushchev’s outburst reflected his frustration as he tried to sway global opinion during a period when newly independent nations were asserting their sovereignty amidst Cold War tensions.

One of the most revealing aspects of the documentary is its exploration of “jazz diplomacy.” During this era, the U.S. State Department sent jazz legends such as Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie, and Nina Simone on international tours under the guise of promoting American goodwill and democratic values. However, these musicians were unwittingly used as decoys for covert CIA operations in places like Congo. The documentary also highlights how jazz musicians Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach took an active role in protesting against Lumumba’s assassination. In one powerful sequence, Lincoln and Roach crash a United Nations Security Council meeting in February 1961 to denounce Lumumba’s murder—a pivotal moment that underscores how jazz became not just a tool for propaganda but also a medium for resistance against colonialism and oppression.

This is no low-budget endeavor; Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat reportedly took five years to complete with a production budget of approximately $2.7 million. Funding came from multiple sources across Belgium, France, the Netherlands, and the European Union. Given its extensive use of jazz music from renowned artists like Louis Armstrong, Nina Simone, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, and Max Roach, licensing costs were likely substantial—contributing to financial challenges even after its release. Grimonprez’s meticulous approach is evident throughout the film. The narrative seamlessly interweaves historical speeches by figures such as Malcolm X and Dwight Eisenhower with archival footage and modern-day parallels.

I watched Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat at Film Forum on a Sunday afternoon amid a passionate audience. Film Forum itself has an illustrious history as one of New York City’s premier nonprofit cinemas dedicated to independent and international films. From its humble beginnings with just 50 folding chairs on Manhattan’s Upper West Side in 1970, it has evolved into a four-screen venue showcasing eclectic programming—from classic films to groundbreaking documentaries like Grimonprez’s work.

Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat is both an eye-opening exposé and a masterful piece of filmmaking that connects music, politics, and espionage during one of history’s most tumultuous periods. Johan Grimonprez’s ability to weave together complex narratives makes this documentary essential viewing for anyone interested in understanding how art can intersect with global power dynamics. For those who value thought-provoking cinema that challenges conventional narratives while celebrating artistic ingenuity, Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat is not just worth watching—it’s essential viewing.

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Michael Jacobsohn is an independent New York filmmaker. His recently completed a documentary on the Cornelia Street Cafe, which will premiere in the first week of April at the New Plaza Cinema. He also curates a bi-monthly screening of short films by New York filmmakers at New Plaza Cinema.

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Under Karen Cooper’s leadership since 1972 (and now Sonya Chung), Film Forum has become synonymous with high-quality cinema that challenges audiences intellectually and emotionally. However, while Film Forum excels at curating films with substantial backing from major distributors or international festivals, I believe it could do more to support local independent filmmakers struggling for visibility. Allocating time slots for New York-based creators would enrich its programming while fostering grassroots creativity. The challenges faced by independent filmmakers resonate deeply with me. While documentaries like Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat benefit from significant funding and international support, many smaller projects lack access to screening venues capable of reaching wider audiences. Speaking with friends in the documentary community reveals a disheartening narrative: talented creators often find themselves sidelined due to limited resources or opportunities.