In Conversation: Louise Lockwood on Bel

Bel was, for me, one of the most moving films of the year, a tender, aching portrait of the Scottish-Kenyan musician Beldina Odenyo, who recorded as Heir of the Cursed, built by director Louise Lockwood as something much closer to an act of love than a conventional documentary. You can read my full review here. When I put some questions to Louise about how the film came together, her answers were as generous and as heartfelt as the film itself, and quick to hand the credit to the team around her. Beldina's sister, Leah McAleer, who has cared for her legacy and brought her debut album into the world, also answered one, and her words close the piece. I have kept them largely in their own words below.

Bel feels less like a documentary than an act of love. How did the film first come about?

That is very true, it is an act of love more than a documentary. I live in a small Scottish village about fifteen minutes outside Glasgow, and Leah, Beldina's sister, lives in the village too. Our kids are at school together and we have become family friends over the years. I never actually knew Bel. I knew Leah had this very talented sister, but I never got to see her perform live, and I will always regret that.

When Bel died, I saw the utter trauma the family went through, and Leah asked whether I would make a short music video. So I sat down with an editor to start looking through the footage, and the song "Hold the Mirror" was the very first thing I ever saw of Bel. This was only two months after she died. I just sobbed at what a tragedy and a loss it was, that voice, so raw and so beautiful, those lyrics, and how on earth could she be gone. That was my introduction to Bel. I went through all of it and made a seven-minute video for Leah, two songs back to back.

I started to realise there was enough footage there for a whole film. About a year later I was in Leah's kitchen having a cup of tea and a catch-up, and she told me they were going to make an album, and that Bel's play was almost finished too. I could see that Leah wanted to take care of her sister's creative legacy, and that was the moment we decided to make a documentary. I asked, and Leah said yes please.

You build the film from the most intimate materials imaginable, home videos, photographs, unheard demos. How did you gather it all, and handle something so personal with the care it deserved?

There was a family Dropbox and Bel's own phone, and then diaries, notebooks, songbooks, journals, old Super 8 and Hi8 cameras, tapes that we had transferred. Some of it was simply not fair to share publicly. Lewis, her ex, had footage on a camera too. We also put a call out to anyone who had known Bel to share what they had, and there was an outpouring of support from friends and family.

I was the main filter for what we used and how we used it. I try to treat every documentary subject as if they were my own family. I went through everything as a friend, as a 52-year-old mum, as a lesbian, and all of that mattered when deciding what was for other people to see and what was not. Bel is not here to tell her own story, so it fell to the team to decide what was appropriate. My radar for that is always very high.

Beldina's music, as Heir of the Cursed, carries the whole film. How did you decide which songs and demos to use?

We used her tracks as the spine of the documentary. Her lyrics and the progression of her songwriting are what the whole film hangs on, and that in turn told us which songs to use, based on what was happening in her life at the time. Some are really early works, like "Bird in a Cage", which is about leaving home and getting out. A few we used are not even on the album. There were a lot of edits and re-orders, and our editor, Audrey, who is a genius, held all of that together.

Because we had the other material, the video diaries and so on, but Bel was no longer here to speak for herself, we really wanted to bring the beautiful poetry of her lyrics forward, to show how she was feeling at different points in her life, and what was fuelling what she wrote.

The sense of displacement, brought from Kenya to a rural Scottish village, runs through everything. How central was that theme of belonging?

It was central to everything. Bel fiercely owned her identity as Kenyan and then Scottish, and both of those were always inside her. I cannot imagine the pain of being moved away from your home country. One of the interviews we used, a 2021 phone conversation with the journalist Rhiannon Davis, had terrible audio, her baby crying in the background, and our dub mixer Lucy did an amazing job cleaning it up. It was one of the most honest things Bel ever said about her background and about feeling displaced, and the song "Dala" embodies exactly that.

She was part of the only Black family for a fifty-mile radius, and some of the racist abuse that Francis revealed in the film was shocking even to those of us making it. That theme of belonging runs through everything Bel ever produced.

The film travels to her hometown in Kenya, and those sequences are extraordinary. What was it like to make that journey?

Going to Kenya was amazing and hugely emotional, and so important for the film, especially going with Leah and the family. It was just Leah, me, and Michael, our Ugandan fixer, with a local team supporting, and I shot all the footage myself. It was as much a celebration as a tribute. Leah wanted to take her own kids to see where the family came from, and taking the album to Bel's grave is something none of us will ever forget. It was very personal. I was crying for most of it.

Visually, Kenya simply had to be seen on film so you understand where Bel came from. You have to feel the heat, smell the smells, and the footage had to be beautiful enough to connect with her music. It was an epic, emotional, and in the end a healing journey.

What do you most hope Bel does for Beldina's legacy, and for the people discovering her music through it?

That cup of tea in Leah's kitchen four years ago, the whole intention was to help share Bel, to share her with the world, and I would absolutely love that. If this film can share her story and her music, if people make cover versions, enjoy it, pass it on, that would mean everything. There is still so much she left behind, an incredible musical legacy, and Leah has kept it, held it, cared for it, and released a stunning debut album. Everybody should know her music. By telling her story, I think you understand and feel the music even more.

I also put a question to Beldina's sister, Leah McAleer, who produced and released the album and has been the keeper of her creative legacy. Her answer felt like the only place to end.

You carry so much of this film, and the act of producing and pressing Beldina's first vinyl is deeply moving. What did completing that record mean to you, and what do you most want people to take from her music?

I felt a very clear sense of duty and purpose in finishing and realising Beldina's album. I see her songs as her children in a way, and the idea that they could die with her was unimaginable. Giving them a physical form that is out in the world and shared with others is a way of showing Beldina and her music the love and care they deserve.

I hope that all of us who knew and loved Beldina will take comfort in having her music and voice still here with us. I am excited for all the others, getting to hear her for the first time. I hope they can let her songs be part of their souls, pick favourites, share with friends, learn the lyrics, and know that all this is an act of love.

My thanks to Louise Lockwood and to Leah McAleer for their time and their candour, and to the whole team behind Bel. Bel is in Scottish cinemas now on a rolling release. You can read my review here. If you have been affected by any of the themes in this film, the Samaritans can be reached free, day or night, on 116 123.