It was an outrage nearly lost amid so many: the stoning death of a unmarried couple in Bamako, Mali, at the start of the relatively short-lived takeover of that sub-Saharannation by the Ansar Dine (“Defenders of Faith”) and other militant Islamist groups.
Those Shariah-sanctioned slayings did not go unnoticed by director Abderrahmane Sissako, whose drama “Timbuktu” is playing at the Esquire.
Among a handful of Africa’s internationally renowned directors, Sissako (who was born in Mauritania but grew up in Mali) does not exploit the news story to buttress his film. Although it does get a rending reference in this PG-13 drama that is as visually poetic as itis quietly harrowing.
Instead, the central figures in “Timbuktu” are herdsman Kidane, wife Satima and their daughter, Toya. Early in the film, Kidane and Satima (portrayed by luminous actors Ibrahim Ahmed, aka Pino, and Toulou Kiki) discuss with kind humor whether Kidane will give the youngster who tends his herd a cow of his own.
Living in a big tent on rolling dunes a distance from the stone city of the movie’s title, they seem spared the edicts of Timbuktu’s newly self-appointed rulers.
Which doesn’t mean that Kidane and his family don’t have their own frustrations. A neighboring fisherman is becoming increasingly aggravated by young Issan’s inability to keep the cattle out of his nets.
In town, the jihadists have begun imposing Shariah laws on the locals. Many of the citizens are already devout, if non-denominational Muslims, but this pushes them. Soccer is banned. Music, too. To sit in front of one’s house is no longer acceptable. Dress codes are insisted upon.
The rules seem ad hoc, even absurd — not just to moviegoers but to the residents of Timbuktu. One young woman boldly points out the nonsense of wearing gloves while she handles fish in the market.
The law’s enforcers are often young fighters, a portion of them are foreign-born, who come across as clumsy or irritating bullies exerting new powers. They traipse into the mosque with shoes on and rifles slung over their shoulders. “We’re doing jihad,” states one young fighter when the Imam tells them that’s no way to enter God’s house. Sissako is masterful in depicting how ridiculous yet lethal this all can be.
One night, armed with kalashnikovs, young men roam the narrow pathways, craning their necks trying to ascertain where forbidden (and glorious) strumming and singing are coming from. It is a laughable and beautiful scene until it’s absolutely not.
With wounding brilliance, the filmmaker nudges Kidane and his family toward an intersection with the jihadists. One has already been buzzing around lovely Satima.
As visually poetic as it is quietly harrowing, “Timbuktu” was nominated for a best foreign- language Oscar and won seven César Awards, including best film, and best director.
The performances are hushed and memorable. Cinematographer Sofian El Fanicaptures the beauty of this desert land. Amine Bouhafa’s score is its own act of gorgeous grace and defiance.
Lisa Kennedy: 303-954-1567, lkennedy@denverpost.com or twitter.com/bylisakennedy
