When I met Ousmane Sembene, 81, in his Midtown hotel, he politely asked me if he could smoke his pipe during our interview, but ultimately chose to refrain. This same courteous restraint occasionally expressed itself as cheerful reticence in response to some of my questions. The father of African cinema, Mr. Sembene had arrived from Dakar just the day before to promote “Moolaade,” his rousing, magnificent film about female circumcision.

Casting “Moolaade,” which is set in Burkina Faso, Mr. Sembene explained, was a straightforward process. “When I’m making a film, I already have the characters in my head,” Mr. Sembene, answering in French, said through his interpreter, Samba Gadjigo, who is also his biographer. “I know it’s a whole different deal here in the West. Because the cast” – who are from Mali, the Ivory Coast, and Burkina Faso – “are not professional actors, you just look around until you see the person who can do the job.”

Mr. Sembene’s films, beginning with his feature debut, “Black Girl” (1965), are renowned for their strong female protagonists and feminist sensibility. Yet when asked if he sees a connection between “Moolaade’s” Colle (Fatoumata Coulibaly), who offers protection to a group of girls who do not wish to submit to genital mutilation, and the tough titular character of “Faat Kine” (2000), Mr. Sembene replies with taciturn humor: “I think it’s up to the critics to determine the relationship between them.”

The director is most impassioned when speaking about his role as provocateur. “I think I’ve inherited the traditional perception of artist in my society: an individual who raises issues,” he says. “I can only make my films in Africa; I cannot make them in the United States. I want to make you aware of the struggle we are having in Africa. My job is to speak to my society. Africa is my mother, my daughter, my lover, what have you.”

Mr. Sembene, who has been showing and hosting post-screening discussions of “Moolaade” throughout Africa, welcomes all responses to his film – even hostile ones. “I think it’s healthy because as a public person I submit my work to the public; they are entitled to this conversation. That’s what makes my job useful. For me the most important thing is not to have everybody agree on everything, but for people to at least have ideals that they talk about. It’s what makes me move forward as an artist.”

He remains hopeful that the practice of female circumcision will be eradicated someday soon. “It depends on how strong we are in fighting,” he says. “In certain countries people are giving it up. Just 15 days ago in Burkina Faso an elderly woman was sentenced for practicing excision. Such legislation is a good thing. But one has to take into account that excision is practiced underground.”

Social pressures, Mr. Sembene acknowledges, are obdurate. “Tradition dies hard; it is very difficult to eradicate overnight. The people who need to be made aware of the issue are the women who submit their daughters to the operation. I want to raise their awareness and then have them take one more step toward action, to rise up against this.”

When our conversation returned to the business of films and filmmaking, Mr. Sembene resumes his sly, laconic style. Asked if he could talk about his next film, “The Brotherhood of the Rats,” the father of African cinema grins ever so slightly and replies, “No, I can’t talk about it yet. I challenge you to wait until you see the film and then we’ll come back here and discuss it.”