MIRYAM TOUZANI: THE BLUE CAFTAN/LE BLEU DU CAFTAN/ أزرق القفطان (2022)


AYOUB MISSIOUI, LUBNA AZABAL, AND SALEH BAKRI IN LE BLEU DU CAFTAN

Frail humans and impeccable craft in the medina

Belatedly, prompted by a query from an old friend who lived in Cairo when I also did, I watched this compelling, intense, claustrophobic little film. Critics who dutifully apply the same formulas to everything they see, see it as covering a familiar theme: a "triangle." How wasted is all the director's careful craftsmanship! That's like the dying art of sewing traditional caftans (used for weddings), which is the focus of this "triangle."

Perhaps the real subject is the craft, the humility and pride of practicing a traditional culture - and the distractions of human frailty. These caftans are like Persian rugs, works of art involving many hours of patient work. They're still desired, but the art that goes into them is no longer appreciated by the impatient, wealthy, and boorish women who order them.

The amazing veteran actress Lubna Azabal, born in Belgium of a Moroccan father and a Spanish mother, who has played so many roles, is Mina here, in a dryly operatic tragic performance as the fatally ill but feisty, hard as nails, and paradoxically full-of-life wife of the maalam, the master craftsman of the mahal, the shop, Halim (Saleh Bakri). This film transpires in the medina - what in Italian would be called the centro storico - of a Moroccan town, Salé, we learn, the city facing Rabat, the capital, across the Wadi Bou Regreg. Bakri also is not Moroccan, but born in Israel but another of a small pool of Arab film actors of international status. (This is all in Moroccan Arabic dialect, though.)

Halim is tall, long-faced, with youthful good looks retained despite early middle age, his handsomeness contrasting with Mina's severe features, a typical Moroccan contrast. Is it surprising that Halim is gay, and scores regularly with impressive-looking men at the local hamam he visits weekly? But he loves Mina tenderly.

The relationship of Mina and Halim is touching and dominates the film. They share the complex, confusing bond of a marriage tainted by the husband's homosexuality but ennobled by a surprising lifelong dedication to each other and to the craft of traditional sewing, the braids, the satin cloths, the grommets, the gold thread, the fine collars. They can't keep up, the orders still come in, with the customers, less appreciative and more "busy," hurrying them. They have to have an assistant: Mina knows this. And he is the young Youssef (played by Ayoub Missioui, the only actual Moroccan-born actor here), a fellow with a softer, more good-natured personality. Though it's Mina who best knows they must have his assistance on the time-consuming work, she is dismissive about Youssef, thinking he's only a pretty boy or bauble for Halim and sure he'll soon quit, as other assistants have done, and become a delivery man or a vegetable seller.

She's wrong. Though Youssef and Halim indeed are attracted to each other, Youssef really has a passion for the craft and is willing to wear his palms raw and work double-time to learn it.

Yes, the style of this film is claustrophobic, focused obsessively on closeups, insistent on its intimacy, but that is interrupted constantly by the incessant noise of the medina, the loud, percussive recorded music, the calls to prayer, the street sounds, the clatter and chatter that invade both the shop and the couple's private rooms, day and night, like the noise of a prison. The sound design is another main character (making this a quadrangle), a reminder of the omnipresence of traditional culture. The shop is small, but we never get to see the whole of it. When Mina insists Halim take her to Moha, a famous traditional male café, drink tea with saffron (her) and coffee (him) and watch a big football match on TV in the noisy room, with her startling everybody by jumping up arms raised, to cheer a local victory, it's a terrifically memorable scene. So is an elegant long shot from the bottom of a medina stairway where Halim appears above in a space of light walking alone to work, when Mina is too sick to accompany him. There are several more of these. But the default mode is the cloistered intimacy, the claustrophobia.

There is a framed phrase from the Qur'an on the shop wall that is no accident. It says وإني لغفار. "And I am forgiving." There's a lot of forgiving needed and provided on all sides in this overwrought but touching film. When Youssef declares his love to Halim, Halim is so cold Youssef, deeply wounded, immediately quits. But after Mina gets sicker and the shop is shut for a week, Youssef returns - he has not gone back to Meknes, as Halim thought - to help, reopens the shop, and winds up becoming virtually a family member. Indeed one of the most subtle and touching moments is when Mina passes, and Ayoub quietly enters the room and sits on the floor beside Halim, reciting the Fatiha, the traditional 7-ayah opening of the Qur'an, in unison with him.

Before this, Mina has apologized to Youssef for having accused him of stealing a bolt of pink satin cloth; her mistake. She must forgive him and herself. She turns out to have long forgiven Halim for his gayness. She tells him he is the purest man she has ever known. Things have become awfully soft and demonstrative. These cold, hardened people in a cold, hardened culture turn out to have warmhearted gushy selves longing to be let out. Have things gone too far in the other direction? But the acting is impeccable here, and the film is beautifully made. The images by Virginie Surdej make all the intimate shots work, including a meticulous and detailed depiction of the caftan-maker's artistry that strengthens the film's focus on its titular craft and art. None but diegetic music till the very end, when a sweeping score carries us away. This is a movie that gets under your skin.

The Blue Caftan أزرق القفطان, debuted at 122 mins. at Cannes as Le bleu du caftan in Un Certain Regard May 2022, with fifty internationals listed on IMDb, and limited US theatrical release Feb. 20 2023. Screened for this review on Criterion Oct. 16, 2023. Metacritic Rating: 83%. French release Mar. 22; AlloCiné press rating 3.8 (76%).

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©Chris Knipp. Blog: http://chrisknipp.blogspot.com/.