Cannes takes a trip to Sissako's 'Timbuktu'

J. Sperling Reich reports from Cannes on a timely and powerful film set in Mali.

Whether it's Man of Iron, Andrzej Wajda's 1981 Palme d'Or-winning movie set during Poland's Solidarity labor movement led by Lech Wałęsa, or last year's Touch of Sin, a commentary on the social ills of modern-day China from director Zhangke Jia, the Cannes Film Festival has never shied away from films that subtly or directly address political discourse in the world. In fact, Cannes programmers seem to have a preference for entries with political overtones.

Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, which took home the Palme d'Or in 2004, is a perfect example. So are Paolo Sorrentino's 2008 entry Il Divo, Samira Makhmalbaf's 2003 At Five in the Afternoon which takes place in Afghanistan, or just about any of Jean-Luc Godard's movies that have been shown in Cannes.

This year, however, Cannes programmers, led by artistic director Thierry Fremaux, were particularly timely in selecting Timbuktu as the first film to screen in competition. Specifically, the world currently watches on in horror as the fundamentalist Islamic militant organization Boko Haram holds more than 200 schoolgirls captive in Nigeria. Meanwhile, Timbuktu interweaves the stories of several characters whose lives have become endangered after religious fundamentalists take over the city, imposing strict Sharia law.

While Timbuktu may be a fictional tale, it unfortunately depicts the ongoing fragile reality of Mali, a West African country with a long history of bloody clashes between its citizens. In April of 2012, an Islamist rebel group named Ansar Dine took over Timbuktu and instituted Sharia law. All music, dancing and sports were banned. Women were forced to wear veils, adulterers were stoned to death, and thieves had body parts chopped off. This went on until January of 2013, when French and Malian military forces seized back control of the city.

Having grown up in Mali, filmmaker Abderrahmane Sissako knows the country's difficulties quite well. He has previously made films that take place in his homeland (the 52-year-old director now lives in France). This time Sissako was motivated after footage of an unwed couple being stoned to death in Aguelhok, Mali, made its way onto the Internet. Because the couple had children out of wedlock, they were buried in the sand up to their necks and in front of 200 onlookers were hit with stones until they died. A similar scene is included in Timbuktu.

What upset Sissako as much as the fact this event could actually take place in Mali was that the incident generated little international press coverage or outrage. "It was more the fact that nobody talked about it," the filmmaker explained while answering questions about his film shortly after its premiere in Cannes. "The world is such today that when a new mobile phone comes onto the market, the whole of the press talks about it, yet we remain totally and increasingly indifferent in the face of horror. This event therefore was the triggering fact behind the film. I started out to make a documentary, then I gave up on this idea and made the film you saw."

The cast of Timbuktu is comprised mostly of amateurs. One character who plays a pivotal role in the film's storyline is a fisherman named Amadou, who is played by a real fisherman named Amadou who fled Mali due to its ongoing violence. Sissako could not maintain such authenticity when it came to choosing production locations as he, understandably, had to look outside of Mali.

"The idea was to shoot in Timbuktu, and on the 28th of September there was a suicide attack in front of some barracks in Timbuktu," Sissako explained. "So there was a real risk. It would have been far too dangerous to take a crew to Timbuktu. All this happened in October 2013 and we had to quickly find an appropriate location. It was possible to shoot in Mauritania thanks to the government and that's something that people don't often say. When the government enables someone to make a film, gives them the possibility to shoot a film providing for proper safety, it can provide quite a lot of work. There were many difficulties because the various places where we did the shooting are quite far apart and there are only small tracks to get there. It might take half a day to get from A to B."

Thus, Sissako took his cast and crew to Walatah in Mauritania, which fills in for the real Timbuktu. It's a small, ruinous village of crumbling brick structures set amidst an endless expanse of rolling sand dunes. This gave cinematographer Sofian El Fani a sweeping canvas to work with and he did not let it go to waste. It's worth noting El Fani also shot Blue Is the Warmest Color which won the Palme d'Or at Cannes last year.

There is no shortage of stunning imagery throughout Timbuktu that captures the natural beauty and harsh landscapes of Mauritania and Mali. One important scene takes place at a distance, in a single panoramic shot along a wide river. Another lyrically haunting moment occurs when children from the village play a soccer game without a ball, miming all the action, including goals, for fear of being caught.

It is against this backdrop that the story unfolds, centering mostly on a herdsman named Kidane (Ibrahim Ahmed) and his family, Satima (Toulou Kiki) and 12-year-old daughter Issan. When Kidane's favorite cow is killed, he takes matters into his own hands and you can only imagine what this must lead to. Over the course of Timbuktu we are presented with various narrative bits from different characters perspectives.

More often than not, these perspectives are viewed through the slits of flowing turbans and face coverings that provide protection front the ever-present sand and grit. This allows only a character’s eyes to be seen, yet Sissako still manages to convey a complicated depth for each of his characters, even those whose actions are less than admirable.

At the same time, the director also overcame the constant translation that had to occur between characters and used it to his advantage. A persistent obstacle to peace in Mali is a population that speaks three languages: Arabic, Touareg and French. Sissako could convey a character's emotions and motives based on how they went about translating or responding to translations.

"Human beings aren't comprised of one dimension. It's not all or nothing," said Sissako about how he tried to show empathy for each of the characters in his film. "Everybody is complex. You have both good and evil. I think it's important to realize that a jihadist is a human being who at a certain point in his life has opted for a certain choice. What you need to do is to make these people at least appear human. They are fragile. At the same time, a person who treats people badly may be wracked by doubt."

It is at this point in discussing his film with a room filled with hundreds of journalists that Sissako pauses uncomfortably, removes his eyeglasses and covers his face to hide the tears that have begun flowing down his cheeks. And like many scenes in Timbuktu, what would normally be an awkward and uncomfortable moment turns into one in which the strength of the human spirit shines through as all the journalists present break out in spontaneous applause.

"Maybe I'm crying in the place of all these people who have experienced these sorts of things," Sissako continued as he regained his composure. "Those who have truly suffered because we tend to identify with these people. I, the actors, all those who were courageous enough to make the film are one thing, but the real courage is to be found among those who have lived this way on a daily basis, not just for one day or two days but for a long time. And they waged a silent combat which is the real combat waged by humankind. And that's where the optimism lies in the film. Timbuktu was indeed freed, but the true liberation was for those people who lived there everyday. Those who play soccer without a ball because it was forbidden, it was banned. That's the real combat. That's the true fight. But as usual everything boils down to a group of people who try to rule the world. That's the way the world is."

At the end of this year's Cannes Film Festival, there will be another group of people who have no intention of trying to rule the world, but instead award this year's selected films for artistic merit. Despite uneven execution with sometimes awkward pacing, its subject matter and powerful story just may cause the festival jury to recognize Timbuktu.