‘The Woman Who Poked The Leopard’ review: Intense portrait of Ugandan activist Stella Nyanzi

Dir: Patience Nitumwesiga. Uganda/South Africa/Germany, US. 2025. 108mins

Anger bubbles beneath Patience Nitumwesiga’s immersive portrait of Ugandan feminist poet, human rights activist and anthropologist Stella Nyanzi. It’s an emotion we see Nyanzi tap into repeatedly – not just in the written word but when faced with day-to-day injustice during the course of Nitumwesiga’s intense but scattergun dive into her life. The documentary, which weaves together archive footage with the writer and academic’s home life, shows Nyanzi has every reason to be enraged, not just about the state of her homeland but her own treatment by it.

Nitumwesiga’s feminist approach adds appeal

The Woman Who Poked The Leopard is likely to strike a chord with audiences who were drawn to fellow Ugandan (and Oscar-nominated) documentary Bobi Wine: The People’s President, with Nitumwesiga’s feminist approach adding appeal. It’s off to a strong start, with its world premiere at DOK Leipzig closely followed by an international premiere at IDFA and further festival play surely beckons.

The film is bookended by segments in Bavaria, Germany, where Nyanzi has lived in exile with her teenage daughter Baraka and twin sons Kato and Wasswa since 2022. It’s here that one of Nyanzi’s sons reads a poem his mother originally posted on Facebook in 2018. In it, she describes Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni (the ’leopard’ of the film’s title) – who rose to power in the wake of the 1986 Ugandan Civil War and has manipulated the law to remain in post ever since – as a “dirty delinquent dictator”. That is as polite as it gets in a work that is blisteringly scathing and no-holds barred in its assessment of Museveni’s life of corruption, and its wish that he had died at birth.

The poem essentially made Nyanzi an enemy of the state. She was jailed as a result, suffering ill treatment which caused a miscarriage. Nitumwesiga’s decision to use a simple black screen as Nyanzi recounts this incident lends it weight and impact. More generally, however, the footage has a tendency to bounce around between different episodes in Nyanzi’s life, from the loss of her university job as a result of her arrest to her run for political office in Kampala in the 2021 elections.

Nitumwesiga has previously made several short films, including Jangu and Heaven Sounds Boring, and it’s a challenge to take on a fast-moving life like Nyanzi’s. A little more sedate framing material would be welcome, especially in terms of her history of activism, rather than just repeatedly thrusting us into her confrontations. The way the letters of the various intertitles appear in a random order that makes them harder to absorb is also a triumph of style over information.

Nyanzi’s clashes with the various authorities do give a vibrant sense of just how formidable she is, as she takes on a judge and bares her breasts in court or simply refuses to be cowed by police intimidation. Her approachable side is also on display, whether she’s chatting with opposition female politicians or on the campaign trail. Nitumwesiga keeps one eye on Nyanzi’s family too, showing how the campaigner’s life of activism takes its toll on her relationship with her children. The documentarian offers them space to express their feelings; at one point the film takes on the rawness of a family therapy session.

Music is deftly employed throughout, from the Lacrimosa from Mozart’s Requiem, which accompanies Nyanzi’s poem about Museveni and a potted history of his time in office, to the rhythmic traditional Kiganda music that dovetails perfectly with Nyanzi’s energy. The Ugandan national anthem, ‘Oh Uganda, Land of Beauty’, is also used with scathing irony. It neatly illustrates the point of Nyanzi’s activism – that words can be powerful weapons when used with precision.