Tribeca ’12: El Gusto

It is time to rock the Casbah, but the music will be Algerian Chaabi rather than British punk. A romantic and elegiac fusion of Arab-Berber and Andalusian musical forms, Chaabi was the popular music of Algiers’ coffeehouses, frowned upon by the classical elites. Of course, the average Algerians loved it, including both Jews and Muslims. Split apart by politics, one of the leading Chaabi orchestras of the 1940’s and ‘50’s reunites in Safinez Bousbia’s El Gusto (trailer here), which screens during the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival.

Like an Algerian Duke Ellington, bandleader El Hadj M’Hamed El Anka established Chaabi as a music worthy of concert hall respectability, while never losing touch with his fans on the street. He led the top outfit, featuring both Muslim and Jewish musicians, reflecting the Casbah’s demographics. Unfortunately, following independence in 1962, the Jewish band-member found it advisable to seek refuge in France, as did nearly all Jewish Algerians. Surely, the UN is still working overtime to protect their right of return, aren’t they? Yeah, just checking.

Frankly, Bousbia largely steers clear of politics, past, present, and future, which is a rather shrewd strategy. Instead, she concentrates on the Chaabi old-timers, who she plainly fell in love with, ever since she wandered into the antique (junk) store of Monsieur Ferkioui. After a few of his stories about the glory days with El Anka, she was hooked. Over a two year span, she tracked down the surviving members in Algeria and France, eventually producing their reunion concert in Marseilles. Needless to say, it was a hit, leading to subsequent dates, a CD supported by a full tour, and finally El Gusto, the documentary she has been filming the entire time.

It is a perfectly apt comparison, but let us try to get through this review without mentioning a certain Wim Wenders documentary about Cuban music. El Gusto is worthy of its own distinct identity. Frankly, by music doc standards it is unusually well made. In her arresting opening vistas, Bousbia dramatically illustrates the Casbah’s crumbling grandeur, resembling an ancient Rio overlooking the Mediterranean. She then takes us on a picturesque tour of the winding backalleys leading to Ferkioui’s shop. Suddenly, it is easy to understand how Pépé le Moko could hope to get lost here.

When the musicians finally assemble, there is plenty of backslapping and some relatively amusing anecdotes. Without question though, the music is the main event. Perhaps not to the tastes of those raised on fast food music, the elegance, lyricism, and insinuating rhythms of El Gusto Orchestra’s Chaabi still ought to appeal to aesthetically mature listeners, even if they are not well versed in the musical traditions of the region.

Although Bousbia is a constant presence throughout the film, she has a knack for staying out of the way. As a result, some lovely sights and sounds are captured in her documentary. Recommended for world music listeners and students of Arab-North African culture, El Gusto screens this coming Monday (4/23), Tuesday (4/24), and Saturday (4/28) as the Tribeca Film Festival continues in venues across the city.

Sundance ’11: A Few Days of Respite

France has long maintained close relations with Iran. Yet, the country does not exactly welcome a pair of gay undocumented Iranians seeking refuge from oppression in Algerian filmmaker Amor Hakkar’s A Few Days of Respite, one of several films examining persecution in the Islamist country selected for the 2011 Sundance Film Festival.

Mohsen is definitely the assertive one in their relationship. He controls the money, but insists they pretend to travel separately when on public conveyances. The loyal Hassan agrees to everything, even though he sometimes shows subtle signs of resentment. Realizing their relationship carries a death sentence, they have made it all the way to France. Their ultimate destination is Paris, but they have a brief layover in a mountain village, where they standout rather conspicuously. However, a lonely middle-aged woman Mohsen befriends on the train might represent a safe harbor, at least for him. Though Yolanda is eager to shelter Mohsen indefinitely, he can keep Hassan surreptitiously stashed in her attic for only so long. As Hassan’s jealousy builds, it becomes clear the situation is untenable.

Respite is a quiet, contemplative film that only directly addresses the oppressive policies of the Iranian government at its very beginning and end. However, those moments are certainly significant. Still, the clear majority of the film combines intimate character studies with elements of the illegal immigration issue drama, much in the tradition of Philippe Lioret’s oh-so ironically titled Welcome.

Regardless of its issues it might raise, intentionally or not, Respite showcases some very fine acting from its three principals. Director Hakkan gives a finely nuanced performance as the flawed but deeply human Mohsen. Samir Guesmi is understated almost to a fault as the intense Hassan, while Marina Vlady portrays Yolande with genuine dignity and vulnerability.

Respite is a work of great sensitivity, but it is a small film by any measure. Nice but not essential, it screens again today (1/28) and tomorrow (1/29) as the Sundance Film Festival continues in Park City and other points throughout Utah.

Band of Brothers: Outside the Law

Two brothers are Algerian revolutionaries. The third is gangster. You might have trouble telling which is which—and not because of any family resemblance. While explosively controversial in France, Rachid Bouchareb’s portrayal of the post-War Algerian separatists ironically might be construed as politically incorrect on these shores. Regardless of whether you consider it a political drama or a crime film, Bouchareb’s Outside the Law (trailer here), Algeria’s official submission for best foreign language Academy Award consideration, is an entertaining film worth checking out when it opens in New York this Friday.

Law opens with its two most incendiary scenes. First, we watch as the brothers’ salt-of-the-earth father is dispossessed of his ancestral land. Then we witness the Sétif massacre of independence protestors by the French-Algerian police. Having thus firmly established his anti-colonial street cred, Bouchareb then commences to tell a story.

The years following Sétif have separated the brothers. Saïd has done his best to look after their mother, but Algeria is a tinderbox primed to explode. Facing limited opportunities, they immigrate to France, hoping the other two brothers will soon join them. Messaoud has been serving in Indochina with the French Army. Abdelkader has been serving time in prison for his revolutionary activity. With his scholarly look and ideological fervor, he definitely projects a Robespierre-like vibe.

Eventually, the prodigal brothers make their way to France, but it is a tense reunion. No longer on speaking terms with their mother, Saïd has worked his way up from pimp to Pigalle nightclub impresario. While nobody in the family considers this an appropriate activity for a proper Muslim, somehow they are all still willing to take his money.

The irony of Law is that of the three brothers, Saïd acts the least like a gangster. By contrast, Abdelkader ruthlessly employs strong-arm tactics to impose discipline within the FLN and to cow the Algerian expatriate community into compliance. Of course, he is not the only one willing to break a few eggs. A veteran of the French resistance, Col. Faivre has a free hand to do whatever it takes to crush the FLN, which he has no reluctance to exercise. Frankly, Law is one of those films that works surprisingly well, because the filmmaker somewhat loses control on the political implications through their greater commitment to telling a good story.

In truth, Law is a sweeping sibling saga that sets up an archetypal conflict between the brothers, playing Saïd’s materialism against Abdelkader’s zealotry, with Messaoud, the self-denying family man, caught in the middle. Though he is made-up to practically resemble Lon Chaney, Roschdy Zem is a riveting figure of pathos in Law. One of the best French-speaking actors working today, Zem is compulsively watchable in every scene. Likewise, Jamel Debouze captures the flair and swagger of a slick operator, while maintaining the appropriately flinty edge of a recent immigrant of uncertain position. Unfortunately, Sami Bouajila is the weak leg of the triad, always coming across more as a symbol than a flesh-and-blood character.

Though Law wears its anti-Colonialism on its sleeve, it hums along quite briskly as an epic historical seasoned with strong thriller-gangster elements (and really, after the last eight years, does anyone on either side of the aisle care to carry water for the French?). Indeed, it holds its own with the Mesrine duology and the Carlos roadshow, even though it is a relatively short 138 minutes by comparison. Even those well-attuned to ideology in films are still likely to be caught up Law’s unvarnished, action-driven depiction of the violent brothers. Definitely recommended, Law opens this Friday (11/5) in New York at the Paris Theatre, Manhattan’s single-screen landmark.