Living next to the sea in the white windy sand dunes, with Sahara desert all around.
Waiting for. Sat inside a listless life. Waiting that isn't procrastinating. Cus there's nothing waiting to be done.
If you don't mind waiting – if you actually prefer waiting as an antidote to too much busy doing – you'll like this film.
The wind whirling around that sand. Jan Gabarek saxophone comes out of car stereo. Surprising touch of contemporary modernity.
More like a vernacular documentary than a scripted drama. Watch it like you listen to music, like you were that young daughter singing along with her mother playing the kora.
Reminiscent of Iranian film The Day I became a Woman. The sea, sand, the white light, vivid cotton colours of clothes worn, those sheets flapped by the wind. Relationships – between old electrician and his young apprentice for example – having the symbolic tenderness of a timeless parable.
How many African films have i seen? Not many. Mauritania looks unfamiliar, feels unknown. Where is Mauritania anyway? A languid quiescence bleaches out of almost every scene. I can feel myself wanting to lie back and be as quiet as the characters are.
This is a proper film. By proper i mean owned by the director, belonging somewhere personal and close to heart. Not a made for cinema confection.
There's something beautiful – as well as truthful – about the compassionate integrity of this film.
