The extraordinary story of Djimon Hounsou began in the 70s with a weekly hunt for five empty Omo detergent sacks. The prize on offer: one free ticket at the local cinema in Cotonou, Benin. The recycling scheme made the cinema the place to be every Wednesday, when Hounsou and his schoolmates had the afternoon off, so tracking down the packages was a priority: asking family, door-knocking neighbours and riffling through rubbish. Regardless, every Wednesday afternoon, the cinema was rammed.
“You’d have the theatre packed all the way to the bathroom; all kids,” says Hounsou. “I remember vividly: sometimes you would be in the back of the theatre and you couldn’t see the screen. But you could hear it. These were cowboy films coming from America and all you could hear were the shoes and the spurs. The sounds were like a dagger; it really pierced your inspiration.”
