Review by Frank Plowright

In 1974 Muhammad Ali took on George Foreman for what was then boxing’s sole heavyweight championship in Kinshasa, in what was then Zaire and is currently the Democratic Republic of Congo. Whatever the dubious arrangements made by the promoters, the citizens around at the time still recall when a world event took place in their capital, and it provides the background to Chaos in Kinshasa.

It’s not the only place spotlighted in an opening sequence looking in on Pennsyvania, Harlem, Belgium and Dakar, each brought to vivid life by Barly Baruti’s painted art. He starts as he continues and as exemplified by his windy street scene on the sample art, his locations are worth looking at closely. The art also shows the strong personalities he can convey, but this is more hit and miss throughout.

The closest to a primary character is small time New York crook Ernest, through whose eyes much is seen as he’s won the trip of a lifetime courtesy of a radio contest. In addition to the background players Thierry Bellefroid also features Zaire’s appalling President Mobutu, then well into a policy of purging colonial influences, and the actual fighters as they prepare for a delayed contest.

When the story switches entirely to Zaire, Bellefroid presents a country riddled with corruption, where those with even relatively small amounts of power abuse it. Brutality flourishes in the prisons, and helicopters fly at night dumping the bodies of Mobutu’s enemies in the river. It’s a crash course in depressing reality for Ernest, who expected a country populated by Black people to welcome him with open arms.

Chaos in Kinshasa lives up to its title, but not in the way intended by Bellefroid, who switches between scenes and characters so rapidly much of what he wants to convey evaporates. Despite long explanatory footnotes anyone unfamiliar with history, colonial ties and assorted alliances is going to be rapidly lost even if they’re read the notes in the back first. References occur to so many countries and people that it’s always a relief to head back to the luckless Ernest whose self-inflicted problems and stupidity are easily understood. It’s a complex story, so why complicate it further by moments where readers wonder why they’re looking at Don King in his hotel room? The cutting between characters accelerates during the fight itself, during which the assorted plots set in motion just stumble to a close.

So many ingredients for a good story are present, but Chaos in Kinshasa doesn’t live up to them.