Nofinofy Shows How Some Things Are Universal

I have curly hair. It’s long and it grows quickly but I rarely get it cut. The reason is that finding an affordable stylist who won’t butcher it can be difficult and more often than not I leave holding back tears rather than feeling like a new woman. However, I would argue that there is no better (and more universal) experience than finding a salon and going in and gabbing with everyone. For me, it’s about style, films, celebrity fashion/hair icons, daily life, and, of course, gossip. The salon is a space for social interaction and connection—which may be part of why it has found itself at the center of the COVID debate. It is a place to connect with you community and foster friendships. In the documentary Nofinofy this is a focal point.

The documentary from Madagascar centers around a barbershop owner, Romeo, whose business is shut down by government officials in the opening moments. We as the audience follow his story as he dreams of once again running his own high end, respected barbershop. “It is an honor to touch someone’s head” he says as he talks about his craft and his love for it, “if you do a good job the customer always comes back.” Most of the 70 minute run time is spent showing him run his business in the poorer part of his city, illegally and from building to building, just trying to keep shop open. During this we see a variety of customers—a small boy getting his first haircut, a variety of politically vocal men, and even a scene where Romeo cuts his own son’s hair and lectures him about responsibility and financial insecurity. While the documentary is focused on Romeo and his journey to own a legal, well respected barbershop, men who come to talk and hang out.

This documentary, as I mentioned, comes from Madagascar, a small African island. It is across the world from the United States and a very different world view exists there—however I was struck by the similarities that bubbled up throughout the movie. They gather around their barbershop and gossip, rip on each other, talk about sports, politics, and life. These conversations are not dissimilar from working class American conversations in the same environment. The film is silent—it sits back and lets the men and young boys talk and influence each other, much like Romeo himself. Though he is apolitical through most, if not all, of the film, he sits back and lets the meetings simmer in his shop. This is what salons (of all kinds, nails, hair, eyebrows) are for. There are a couple scenes that stick out to me, one where a group of men are attempting to talk a young boy out of his delinquent behavior and recount their experiences in jail. The other where a man is getting his hair cut and, talking about the government, says “why do we keep quiet? We do pay their wage!” and that whole scene, to me, is a powerful moment (especially in combination with that last ten minutes) that champions working class solidarity around the world. Which, at its core, is the true message of this documentary.

While the run time is short the pace is perfect. It takes a bit of a slow burn at first, patiently introducing us to a man and, in my case, a country that is unfamiliar. So as the guitars on the street are strumming and the slow hum of the barber’s razors fills the background, we are privileged to peek at a place across the world that is both starkly different yet stunningly similar.