Arts & Events

Opens January 30 at the Sundance Kabuki in San Francisco



Abderrahmane Sissako's Oscar-nominated film Timbuktu is a treat for the eyes and a banquet for the senses but it's an occasional pain for the brain. While the film does a masterful job of embedding the viewer in a richly rendered story of a simple family's experience with religious oppression, the experience is undercut by some confusing edits, too many storylines and characters that capture the attention but serve no story-telling purpose.

Still, the film is worth seeing if you want to understand something of the culture-clash that's wreaking havoc in Mali and other African nations as people are suddenly forced to live under rules imposed by invading Islamic purists.

Timbuktu glows with glorious cinematography (We haven't seen desert landscapes like this since George Lukas set up his cameras in Tunisia to provide the background for Tatooine) and resonates with the sound of local melodies strummed on strings or sung aloud. But quietly! Because Timbutu and its surrounding dune-dwelling communities are now under the sway of religious fundamentalists dead-set on asserting control. 

In the name of the Prophet, these apostles of Islam reject many manifestations of the modern world and harken back to a simpler life of devotion. So it is odd to see them pocketing cell phones, roaring about on motorbikes armed with portable megaphones and pestering the locals with admonitions: "Music is not allowed! Soccer is not allowed! No cigarettes! No alcohol! No laughter!" 

These new proscriptions seem arbitrary and contradictory. In one case, a member of the religious militia informs a woman that she must now cover her legs and start wearing socks. He then goes on to stop a man walking through his village and demand that he doff his sandals and roll his pants up to his knees. 

It looks like these "foreigners" are making it up as they go along. (But isn't it equally odd that Christian men are required to remove their hats while women are required to cover their heads when entering a church?) 

Grassroots Resistance in a Desert World 

When the Jihadists arrest a villager for owning a soccer ball, the young boys of the village will not be deterred. In a rousing scene, they take to their dusty field and battle over a ball that exists only in their imaginations. (And look for the little kid wearing the Barcelona jersey emblazoned with Lionel Messi's number ten. Soccer is truly an international sport, an experience so universal that it transcends religions.) 

It's uplifting to see how it is the women who are quickest to resist to these attempts to impose the new rules. One women asks "How can I sell fish if my hands are wearing gloves?!" and demands to be arrested. Another refuses to deal with a self-important suitor who asks permission to marry her young daughter. And in the one of the most memorable scenes in the history of film, a young woman forced to kneel for a flogging because she was caught singing, turns her cries of pain into a sobbing song of resistance. 

In an American film, such an act of defiance would prompt the man with the lash to increase the force and frequency of the flogging. Instead, the jihadist simply continues to mete out the proper measure of punishing pain. He's not ruled by his emotions. It's all "by the Book." 

A Reign of Pious Villainy 

Here is a surprising thing about Timbuktu: It shows the nightmare of having to live under an extreme version of Islamic law but the "persecutors" are not depicted as true villains. 

Certainly, it's chilling to watch the religious police on patrol at night, skulking through the narrow streets and peering into doorways in search of the source of forbidden music. But this isn't anything like the standard operational brutality displayed by US soldiers conducting "night raids" in a foreign country. People are arrested (except for those who manage to escape into the darkness, clutching their guitars) but there is no screaming of obscenities, no doors kicked in by heavy boots, no threats to shoot unarmed people in their homes. 

In Timbuktu, the extremists never fly off the handle. They don't lose their tempers. The are almost always calm and civil as they go about the job of enforcing Sharia Law. Even when they lead someone off to death, they seem to treat the prisoner with courtesy and respect. Instead of "perp-walking" a victim in handcuffs, the executioners are solicitous—steadying the victims and reaching out to help them as they stumble toward their fate. 

For anyone steeped in the violence of Western cinema, this lack of violence and outbursts of anger, is startling. 

But the calm, methodical execution of transgressors is still horrific. No more so than in the brief scene depicting the stoning deaths of a young couple. (It was a real-life stoning in 2012 that prompted the Mali-born director to co-author the screenplay.) 

There is only one outburst of irrational violence in the film and it involves a baffling bushwhacking incident in the desert. The chief Jihadist (who everyone knows is secretly addicted to cigarettes) asks his driver to stop their vehicle during a drive through the desert. Pointing his rifle towards a sand dune, he opens fire on the only thing growing in that patch of desert—a spindly bush. I watched closely, expecting to see the hand of a sniper reach out in the agony of death. But there was nothing more to be seen. (Chronicle reviewer Jessica Zack offers an interesting interpretation. According to Zack, the jihadist was angered because the placement of the bush in the sand dunes resembled female genitalia.) 

Kidane's Story 

Timbuktu's central story revolves around a cattle-herder named Kidane who lives in a tent on a dune with his wife Satima and his daughter Toya. Kidane's life is simple but fulfilling. He lounges around most of the day, plucking a forbidden stringed instrument and bantering with his family while a young boy drives the cattle off to graze. 

Living far from the city, Kidane's family enjoys some freedom from the Islamists. Only on occasion does a pickup truck flying a black Al Qaeda flag ever darken the horizon. While Kidane runs afoul of Jihadist law, it's a matter of his own doing. 

One day, following a dispute with a neighbor, mild-mannered Kidane suddenly loses his temper and instigates a confrontation. As we watch two men push, pull, punch and struggle in a shallow lagoon, a gun suddenly explodes with shocking power. At least a full minute of screen time goes by as we watch the horrific aftermath—without knowing exactly what has happened. 

When Kidane is forced to deal with the Jihadists, Sharia law actually proves more forgiving than US jurisprudence. (US courts don't offer the option of "forgiveness" in exchange for "blood money." But, in Sharia law as in US law, the option of securing a lesser sentence is an option, depending on the financial assets of the accused.) 

Some Distraction Amid the Action 

Throughout the film, there were many moments where someone would stare intently at the screen, followed by a scene of another person engaged in some activity. The assumption followed that the first person was observing the second. That assumption was repeatedly undercut when it became apparent that the first person was living in the city and the second person was miles away in the desert. 

Neither had any idea what the other was doing. 

There is a village "mad woman" who appears throughout the film. Although she is one of the most striking figures in the film, she serves no dramatic purpose. Similarly, there is a man who dances wildly at her feet in a scene that seems detached from any meaning. 

The film ends with an act of sudden brutality that was so confusingly rendered, we had to replay the DVD screener several times to understand what had happened. And then we needed to back-up even further to establish who it was who left Kidane's tent and who it was who stayed behind. 

Despite its flaws, Timbuktu offers a memorable immersion in the lives of the people of Mali, a nation of many cultures, languages and ethnicities. It will leave you with memories of a land you've never known. One of the most memorable images is that of 12-year-old Toya walking to the top of the tallest sand dune and hoisting a cell phone to the sky in her hand—hoping against hope to connect with her father, lost somewhere beyond a vast horizon of sand. 

Abderrahmane Sissako Weeps During Cannes Press Conference 

(May 16, 2014) -- Abderrahmane Sissako, moved during Timbuktu's press conference in Cannes Film Festival 2014.