In April 2012, militants belonging to Ansar Dine (operating in Mali) seized Timbuktu, one of the most well-known cities in the country. The militants burned age-old shrines and other sites deemed “unholy,” and many of the city’s ancient manuscripts were threatened. The militants soon announced that they had implemented sharia law, and began cracking down on theft (with mutilation) and adultery (via stoning).
Abderrahmane Sissako’s “Timbuktu” takes place during this time of turmoil. In this startlingly honest work of art, we watch as the residents of Timbuktu are forced to follow the laws of jihadists who take over the city. Women are required to cover themselves and wear gloves, people are forbidden from playing music (there are terrifying images of jihadists on rooftops trying to find the sources of music in the city), and, most intense of all in terms of punishment, adultery is forbidden (punishable by death). We watch as people are punished for violating these laws, and finally, two people, presumably adulterers, are stoned. All we see are two heads in the dirt, with stones hitting them. It’s enough to make you stop watching mid-film.
The sheer brutality of the moment lends an almost documentary feel to the film, which is incredibly staged and acted. It’s not a bad thing that the moment makes us cringe. It forces the audience to heap a multitude of credit on Sissako for his effectiveness behind the camera.
In one of the happier moments in the film, we see children playing soccer without a ball, as the sport is forbidden. They pretend as though the ball is there, and their reactions to the events in the game are happy and creatively brilliant. They immediately stop playing and start acting as though they are stretching when the jihadists drive by in their pickup truck. As an audience, we are forced to pivot back to the vast realism of the film.
Juxtaposed with the stories of the residents of Timbuktu is the story of a local Tuareg family: the father, Kidane, and his wife, Satima, live with their daughter, Toya, in a tent, and look after a local orphan, Issan.
Things get complicated after the Jihadists take over the territory. They come to the tent and politely ask Satima to cover her head. Things later escalate to the point of murder. Complex themes of justice, fatherhood, and power struggles between the so-called “conqueror” and “conquered” get tangled up to the point of despair.
Perhaps what makes “Timbuktu” such a sad watch is that the antagonists have faces. They speak, talk about soccer, and (some) cannot even drive cars. By giving them faces, Sissako forces his audience to watch. That’s why it’s so brutal. We have no other choice.
Schaffer is a member of
the class of 2016.
