Hollywood bookkeepers are burning out their iBooks calculating how much the direct-to-OMNIMAX editions of Indiana Jones and Speed Racer are bringing into studio cashboxes. In a better world than this, one or two vast IMAX/OMNIMAX screens and sound systems would be given over to a genuinely hypnotic spectacle, Bab’Aziz: The Prince Who Contemplated His Soul, for a total-immersion experience in the gentle, trance-inducing Sufi brand of Islamic mysticism.
It’s reminiscent of the nomadic docu-dramas of Tony Gatlif (Latcho Drom) in its unhurried pace. Bab’Aziz takes place in the present Mideast desert, yet whenever a piece of modern technology appears - a boom box, a vintage truck, electric lights - it seems an intrusion into a timeless realm that might be any period over the past millennium. Title character is a blind old man, a Sufi dervish, en route with his “little angel” granddaughter Ishtar to a psalm-and-dance gathering that happens once every 30 years. Bab’Aziz begins telling a tale of a powerful young prince who becomes transfixed by his own reflection in an oasis pool. It’s a tale he is prevented from finishing, but which is doubtlessly autobiographical.
The duo crosses paths with various other interconnected wayfarers - a lovestruck backpacker in search of the girl who has stolen his identity to attend the dervish conclave, a vengeful wastrel who blames a dervish for the ritualistic demise of his pious twin, another young dervish smitten with a married woman in a disappearing palace. Dialogue is lyrical, often elliptical and cryptic, and it at least partially derives from the poetry of Rumi and other bards and balladeers in the Sufi tradition.
I couldn’t claim to comprehend much of what was going on but couldn’t look away, such is the visual and aural splendor of the Franco-Iranian-German-Hungarian-UK (whew!) co-production. The deserts of Tunisia are known to movie viewers primarily as where George Lucas made his pilgrimages to shoot Star Wars flicks. With no pretensions of being a backdrop to the antics of R2D2 and Jar-Jar Binks, the sandscapes and Seussian rock formations are like a character in themselves, and perfectly complimentary to the actor/singers in the cast - each one so distinctive in their appeal and visage that I truly fear heathen Hollywood agents will descend like King Richard’s or George Bush’s crusaders, to sack, pillage and abduct Nessim Khaloul or Hossein Panahi for bit roles in Pirates of the Caribbean IV: Jack Sparrow Meets Sinbad. Watch this lovely film instead. Go against the grain - and with those undulating dunes.

Though not necessarily tied directly (at least in any way that I can tell) to Wanderers of the Desert (the previous entry in the Desert Trilogy), The Dove’s Lost Necklace serves as part two of poet/director Nacer Khemir’s highly acclaimed series of desert films, culminating recently with the soon-to-be-released-stateside Bab’Aziz. Where Wanderers of the Desert centered around a small, isolated town where mythical occurences (including a man living in a well, an ancient ship appearing in the desert, and a group of wanderers), The Dove’s Lost Necklace takes place in a more realistic (at least ostensibly) location. The story centers around a young calligrapher named Hassan and his young friend Zein.

Where the theme of the first film was transitory and hard to follow, this one is abundantly clear: it’s all about love. Hassan is searching for and attempting to document and memorize the 60 words in Arabic that mean “love.” The younger Zein works as a go-between for lovers who wish to communicate with their female counterparts, delivering messages and gifts to those who are not able to meet. But when Hassan comes across a fragment of a book that is said to be “poisoned,” he becomes enchanted with the story of the search of rPrincess Samarkand and seeks out the rest of the book from which the pages were torn. This leads him on a (relatively) epic journey across the desert, where he meets a mysterious young woman.

Much like the first film, there are many plotlines happening at once, and none are simple to follow. Young Zein is waiting for his father (who he was told is a genie) to return to the city and claim him. He’s also waiting for his monkey friend, who is claimed to be a prince, to be returned to his true form. Hassan’s master makes much of a long-distance Chess game and an assignment to write out the Koran for a prince who subsequently passes on.

There are many beautiful images in the film, including a white horse with its bottom half painted orange and a few night-time shots of the moon that are quite stirring. Again Khemir seems to have bitten off a bit more than he can chew in conveying his message, though. (Or perhaps it just feels that way to a typical western viewer). The ultimate outcome of the film is relatively muddled, though it’s still quite fun getting there.

Zach’s Rating: B
Perfect For: Those looking for a hint of mysticism and myth
Stay Away if: Imagery alone doesn’t do it for you

Women are at the heart of the independent film movement in Seattle as in no other city - a fact underscored by the new Seattle Women in Film DVD anthology from 911 Media Arts Center. Distributed by Typecast Releasing, this DVD collection of short works by 21 Seattle filmmakers gathers independent films of startling quality and imagination. Seattle Women in Film shows why the creative community of Seattle is emerging as one of the world’s most interesting places to make film. Featuring some of Seattle’s most respected women filmmakers, this masterful collection is as diverse as the directors themselves, including both laugh-out-loud comedies and experimental dramas, as well as insightful documentaries, animated treasures and films that tap a lyrical vein.

Coming to DVD May 13, 2008.

Pre-Orders accepted after April 15, 2008.

Seattle Women in Film

2008 | Short Film Collection | 150 minutes | United States

Produced By: Adrian MacDonald & 911 Media Arts Center Audio: English

Official Selection!
- New York Short Film Festival, Ann Arbor Film Festival, Miami Short Film Festival, Seattle International Film Festival

Seattle’s do-it-yourself ethic and uncompromising artistic sensibilities are at the center of
Seattle Women in Film, an eclectic collection of the best short films by Seattle’s top women filmmakers. Presenting a total of twenty-one works, each by a different filmmaker, Seattle Women in Film features witty, accomplished and imaginative shorts that provide a rare peek into the heart of the Seattle independent film scene. Curated by Seattle’s own 911 Media Arts Center, the Seattle Women in Film collection is sure to impress and inspire, while giving audiences around the globe a glimpse of the Emerald City’s independent filmmaking spirit.

We are happy to be presenting a special Q&A event along with members of the International Association of Sufism, during the opening night of Bab’Aziz in the Bay Area. 7pm and 9:25pm screenings at Lumiere Theatre (San Francisco) and 7:25pm and 9:55pm showings at Shattuck Cinemas (Berkeley) this Friday only, will have post-film Q&A led by representatives of the Sufi group.

The International Association of Sufism will also be holding the Sufism Symposium, in nearby San Rafael, April 25-27.

A soft, poetic side of the Muslim world is portrayed in “Bab’Aziz: The Prince Who Contemplated His Soul,” a movie as multifaceted and difficult to follow as its labyrinthine title. There’s nothing wrong with being difficult if there’s a payoff at the end. Screenwriter-director Nacer Khemir provides that with a visually stunning final scene that makes sense of everything that came before.

“Bab’Aziz,” which was shot on location in Iran and Tunisia, opens with a breathtaking vista of sand dunes stretching past the eyes’ ability to see. Their sensual rounded shapes look like Edward Steichen nudes.

Looking into the distance, you half expect to see Lawrence of Arabia on a camel. Instead, there’s a girl, Ishtar (a lively Maryam Hamid), calling for her grandfather, Bab’Aziz (Parviz Shlahinkhou). A storm has separated them and delayed their journey to a kind of convention for dervishes. He’s one and his granddaughter is learning the art. This gathering they’re off to only happens every 30 years. The location is kept a secret. As Granddad tells Ishtar, the important thing is just to keep walking, for which Bab’Aziz, who is blind, relies on his companion and a stick.

At nighttime, the youngster wants to be told a story. Bab’Aziz obliges with an ancient saga of a prince who renounces his worldly pleasures to stare into a pool in the desert while contemplating his soul. This scenario is acted out as the story is narrated. Besides clearing up the meaning of the second part of the film’s title, it also adds a mysterious element to the meaning of life.

Bab’Aziz and Ishtar meet numerous people along the way with their own stories. Each time they come upon a group performing music, she’s hopeful they’ve reached the convention, only to be told by her grandfather that the group they’re seeking is much larger.

A fellow traveler tells the old man and his granddaughter that he has been seduced by a beautiful woman. Waking up in her bed, he strokes the lush head of hair next to him only to realize that she has cut it all off and left it there like a wig (well, it could have been a horse’s head) before absconding with his passport and clothes. As this young man explains, where she is headed it is difficult for a woman to travel alone, hence the borrowing of his clothes.

This is one of the few overt mentions of the lives lived by many followers of Islam. In a statement, the film’s director rather dramatically states, “I tried to wipe Islam’s face clean with my movie, by showing an open, tolerant and friendly Islamic culture, full of love and wisdom.”

Khemir has succeeded to the extent that he makes you forget you’re watching Muslims and just think you’re watching people.

In the shifting sands of the Middle East, the only constants are faith and fables. They coexisted quite happily before the rise of fundamentalism, and they find a soulful commonality in Nacer Khemir’s nostalgia-tinged Bab’Aziz: The Prince Who Contemplated His Soul. The Tunisian filmmaker has conjured a unique and uniquely graceful blend of fairy-tale idealism and street-level realism that unfolds as a casual chain of stories.

A blind elder named Bab’Aziz, walking to a mystical gathering of dervishes in the desert with his granddaughter, starts the ball rolling with the tale of a wealthy prince who unexpectedly becomes obsessed with the meaning of life. The prince’s existential journey overlaps with less rarefied pursuits — of revenge, of a vanished lover — propelling men whom Bab’Aziz and his ward encounter along the way.

Poetry, music, and prayer fill the soundtrack of this seductive road movie with no discernible road, as Bab’Aziz offers wise lessons for anyone on the path of peace and self-knowledge.

Directed by Nacer Khemir with help from screenwriter Tonino Guerra (L’Avventura [1960], Amarcord [1973]), Bab’Aziz traces the journey of a blind dervish who has taken a vow of poverty and his delightful granddaughter Ishtar. Wandering through the desert in search of a great reunion of dervishes that happens once every 30 years, they rely on faith to guide them through the expansive and seemingly endless sand dunes of Tunisia and Iran. As they meet other dervishes along the way, Bab’Aziz relays an enchanting tale of a prince who foregoes his wealth to contemplate his soul by a pool in the desert.

Like a poem filmed in radiant and incandescent colors, Bab’Aziz is a welcome return to the psychedelic and the purely visual, replete with a bitchin’ soundtrack.

Director Nacer Khemir’s Bab’Aziz is a fable not about a (conceptually more Westernized) search for meaning, but a quest to have beauty and love revealed, in the sense that they represent spiritual truths to some Islamic mystics. Bab’Aziz is an old, blind dervish accompanied on his trek into the vast and shimmering desert by his feisty granddaughter Ishtar. He tells her that they are going to a meeting of dervishes, wanderers for whom poverty is part of the quest for enlightenment. He doesn’t know where or when the meeting is but tells her, ‘People at peace are never lost.” Along the way, he shares with her the story of a prince who rejected his wealth to go into the desert and contemplate his soul while staring into a pool in an oasis.

The ever-shifting sands of deserts in Iran and Tunisia provide beautiful and mysterious settings for the film, and Khemir uses them as a telling metaphor ” particularly set against small pools or bowls of water ” for the infinite universe and the search for elusive spiritual fulfillment and knowledge. The film does not deal with the contemporary politics of Islam, but the director labored to show what the religion is to some of the one billion Muslims worldwide who are not adherents of fundamentalist extremism. His fables (this is the third in a trio of desert films) offer an intriguing look into some of the cultures of the Middle East, and how they see the world differently than the West

A young girl and an elderly blind man emerge from under the sands of the Iranian desert. They ostensibly were buried by a sandstorm in the night, but for all we know they are born in that moment. They are new growth in the ancient ground of Nacer Khemir’s allegorical odyssey of Sufi mystics trekking through to a conference of dervishes called The Gathering. There are no directions, you just find your way there, and everyone has their own path and their own story.

Khemir, a poet and a painter as well as a filmmaker, is less interested in story than gentleness of being, and he uses the endless, timeless desert landscape to create an existence in which past and present coexist. If you can lose yourself in the weave of crisscrossing stories, it’s a lovely, lazy dream movie of marvelous textures and rhythms. If not, the travelogue through Sufi mysticism doesn’t really go anywhere, but at least the music and dance and cultural storytelling make the journey interesting, if not always compelling.

Grade: B

The primal tranquillity of shifting sands across the Iranian and Tunisian desert is no mere backdrop to this hypnotic fable of spiritual wisdom. The silken dunes that cocoon, propel or transform the humans and animals crossing their rippled lines are elemental characters with as much significance as the mystical parable they all inhabit.

Using a mostly seamless series of narrative techniques, the film spins a string of interconnected stories based on Sufi mysticism. It is anchored by the journey of an old blind man named Bab’Aziz (Parviz Shahinkhou) and his granddaughter Ihstar (Maryam Hamid) as they wander in search of a gathering of dervishes who celebrate together in the desert every 30 years.

Bab’Aziz entertains and calms his anxious charge by telling her the legend of a young prince who becomes fanatically obsessed by the gaze of his own reflection from a pool of water. Trekking deeper into the labyrinthine wilderness, they meet a succession of others who share their own stories of philosophical pain or yearning. One man believes he has discovered paradise at the bottom of a deep well; one is on a quest to find a love he has driven away; another courts madness by seeking aimless revenge. A common thread of introspection is eloquently woven amid the truth of universal thought and the hypnotic spell of landscapes that are as ancient as they are transient.

Tunisian director Nacer Khemir’s palette also includes the mesmeric texture of half-buried mosques, harsh rock formations and occasional flashes of brilliantly colored textiles leaping out of the monochromatic horizon. So timeless is the pace and setting that it’s a little alarming when reminders of modern culture — such as a motor scooter, a baseball cap or an airplane — intrude into view.

An exotic musical score that climaxes with the epic gathering of dervishes in a parched, crumbling city enhances the visual poetry. The music also gives balance to a dramatic structure that might otherwise have seemed overly amorphous. The atmosphere is so thick with mystical theory that languor sometimes threatens to win out over insight. Be sure to come well rested; this desert is no place for a nap.