Waiting for Happiness

While not for everyone (the antithesis of a Hollywood film), "Waiting For Happiness" is pure cinema at its finest, and one of the best African movies I have ever seen. Reminiscent of contemporary Iranian cinema," Sissako's poetic imagery resonates with a sense of place and describes the lives of those who inhabit it. While there is an absence of plot and scripted dialog, as well as no clear protagonist, the story is marked by the characterizations and tempo that reveal a community sandwiched between the ocean and the dessert; between ancient rituals and adaptations to modernity, fluctuating between hope and acceptance, life and death, always with patience and dignity. Full of quiet compassion, everything swept by the wind, "Waiting For Happiness," doesn't explain everything. Instead, it gives you an experience that is palpable for you to make sense of.

While this may sound totally implausible to most, the film this most resembled, for me, was Claire Denis's recent release FRIDAY NIGHT (VENDREDI SOIR), a French-European film with little or no dialogue, but it is an impressionistic mosaic which the viewer can follow. Here, in a French-Mauritanian film that, culturally, more closely resembles an Iranian film, like THE DAY I BECAME A WOMAN, it is literally an odyssey of images, with little to no narrative, only the images tell the story, and it ends up being an exhilarating experience, suitable for nearly all ages, that is a rare treat "outside" experimental film. This is one of the most tender, gentlest films I've ever seen, which relies in large degree, on the Malian West African music by Oumou Sangare which is featured prominently throughout, particularly at the finale which I found excruciatingly beautiful. A rare treat.

In Nouadhibou, a lonely and isolated village sandwiched between the Atlantic Ocean and the Sahara Desert in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, Abdullah (Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Mohamed), a seventeen-year old boy, arrives from Mali to visit his mother before leaving for Europe. Unable to speak the local Hassanya language and dressed only in Western clothes, he is a stranger in a strange land. The film is Waiting for Happiness, in which Mauritanian director Aderrahmane Sissako portrays the conflict between Western modernization and local African traditions, basing the story on his own experience of exile and return. It won the International Film Critics award for best film in the Un Certain Regard section of Cannes in 2002.

The film is virtually plotless and without dramatic arc, but filled with memorable images of a culture whose way of life is threatened by Western values. Feeling like an outcast, Abdullah sits by an open window watching a photographer taking portraits, a merchant selling veils, women singing and flirting, an Asian immigrant's karaoke serenading his girlfriend, and a mother playing the Kora while teaching traditional songs to her young daughter. He struggles to learn some Hassanya words from Khatra (Khatra Ould Abder Kader), a ten-year old electrician's apprentice, but his heart is not in it. The only bonds he establishes are with Nana, a prostitute who tells him her story of being rejected by her husband when she went to visit him in France. Abdullah finally agrees to dress in native clothes, but his awkward attempts to fit in only underscore his alienation.

The film celebrates community, moving between characters and incidents to explore the traditions that the villagers want to preserve, and their struggle with symbols of progress. The electrician Maata (Maata Ould Mohamed Abeid) has difficulty getting electricity to work even with the help of his young apprentice Khatra. Maata tries to teach Khatra his trade, but without much success. In a touching sequence, after failing to install a light bulb in a primitive home, Khatra senses that his master is feeling bad, puts his arm around the old man's shoulders and tells him over and over again that everything's going to be all right. Maata is a surrogate father for the orphaned boy and instructs him in the ways of the world. In one moving scene, Matta tells him of a friend who sailed away to Spain and France, never to be heard from again, as Khatra falls asleep, resting his head against the old man's chest.

Nouadhibou is a sort of limbo in which travelers wait to begin their journey abroad, the women wait for a husband, the boys wait to grow up, people come and go. Backed by the haunting music of Oumou Sangare, Sissako beautifully captures the day-to-day reality in a part of the world that has been hidden to Westerners. Images become transfixed in the mind: the windswept sand; a refugee's body washed ashore; a group of ominous-looking trawlers anchored off the coast slowly sinking in the mud; pristine whitewashed buildings shining in the West African heat; an old man walking in the desert carrying a flickering light bulb. Waiting For Happiness is a poignant meditation on the transience of life and the conflict between progress and tradition. Reminiscent of the films of Kiarostami in it's languid pace and use of nonprofessional actors, the film takes a while to get you in its grip, but when it does, it refuses to let go.

What a beautiful film to see. I lucked out when it came on satellite. It just ended. I was supposed to take a nap to do something later but I couldn't resist watching this film. The photography is wonderful. It's quiet but totally worth watching.

The storyline is universal to being in a family. To see such beautiful people presented in traditional clothing is fantastic. The traditional music is entrancing and used effectively throughout the film. The photography of women is luscious and loving. Scenes of women dancing and singing shine in my mind. The director is top of the line, a-number-one.

While this may sound totally implausible to most, the film this most resembled, for me, was Claire Denis's recent release FRIDAY NIGHT (VENDREDI SOIR), a French European film with little or no dialogue, but it is an impressionistic mosaic which the viewer can follow. Here, in a film that, culturally, more closely resembles an Iranian film, like THE DAY I BECAME A WOMAN, it is literally an odyssey of images, with little to no narrative, only the images tell the story, and it ends up being an exhilarating experience, suitable for nearly all ages, that is a rare treat "outside" experimental film. This is one of the most tender, gentlest films I've ever seen, which relies in large degree, on the West African music which is featured prominently throughout, particularly at the finale which I found excruciatingly beautiful. A rare treat.