Tag: Benedict Cumberbatch

The Mauritanian

Posted on by Paul Risker

Human civilisation and time is scarred by our choices and indiscretions, some of which are so grave that we cast aside our very humanity. Kevin Macdonald’s American drama The Mauritanian, is the true story of one of these many scars that has been instigated by the “war on terror”, and the imprisonment without charge of Guantánamo Bay detainees by the U.S Government.

Based on the best-selling memoir Guantánamo Diary by Mohamedou Ould Slahi (Tahar Rahim), the film recounts his own fight for freedom, with the help of defence attorney Nancy Hollander (Jodie Foster) and her associate Teri Duncan (Shailene Woodley). Leading the prosecution is Lt. Colonel Stuart Couch (Benedict Cumberbatch), a formidable figure who uncovers shocking truths that brings him into conflict with the military and his own government.

A new film from Macdonald rightly stirs up interest, and his back catalogue of documentary and fiction makes the prospect of him tackling the subject of Guantánamo Bay an exciting one. Reflecting on the film, what immediately strikes me is an intriguing parallel with his documentary of mountaineers stranded in Touching the Void (2003). Slahi’s imprisonment, and his striking up a friendship with a fellow detainee he never sees face-to-face, juxtaposes man with nature as the respective antagonists.

Technically efficient, with solid performances, The Mauritanian is haunted by the underwhelming feeling it provokes. The suspense and urgency struggles to explode that sees it fall short of other captivating works of true stories, such as All the President’s Men (Pakula, 1976) and Spotlight (McCarthy, 2015). If it can be most aptly described as a sober account of Slahi’s experiences, this is ironically where the film’s strength lies.


The expectation is for Foster’s character to be a tour de force, the injustice and bullying tactics of the government adding fuel to her fire. Instead she’s a more tempered presence, as is Cumberbatch’s prosecutor, neither spiralling into a dramatised idealism. It’s a choice that leaves us feeling that a part of the film’s soul is missing. The sobering restraint ultimately comes to pay tribute to the source material, in a way that can perhaps be likened to photographers who combine image with text to communicate ideas and meaning.

Throughout feelings are provoked, a mix of anger and sympathy, and we question his innocence as the two sides prepare for trial. It’s not until the end that the full weight of our indignation is felt. Macdonald depicts events that are dramatic, intense and uncomfortable to view. We see acts of torture that are in breach of international law, perpetrated against detainees who have not been charged with any crime. There’s a definite full stop as the director builds to a crescendo of condemnation, articulately tempered with facts in white text on a black background. The film was borne out of words on a page, and so it ends with words onscreen.

According to Amnesty International, “The Guantanamo prison remains open today with 40 men still imprisoned there. The vast majority have never been charged with a crime.” The text references that Slahi’s struggle for freedom ran into the Obama/Biden Administration, and to this day, Obama’s promise to close the Guantanamo prison remains unfulfilled.

The Mauritanian is not a look back at a past heinous act, it’s a window into the horrors being experienced by detainees as we are watching, thinking and talking about the film. There are those for who what we witness is their reality, human beings denied their dignity that continues to besmirch a contemporary America supposedly built upon the values of freedom and equality, a nation struggling to discover its soul.

Neither the entertaining compelling or suspenseful experience that one may expect, what the film does is trust its story will resonate with the audience as an experience recounted. Slahi’s story as shown here, is an experience we should value and appreciate, for it makes us conscious of the hurt we inflict upon one another, and the consequences that make victims out of men, women and children.

The Mauritanian is streaming on Amazon Prime

Walk With Me

Posted on by victorfraga

Adopting observation both as subject and documentary approach, directors Marc J. Francis and Max Pugh offer a silent, meditative glimpse into monastic life in Plum Village, a Buddhist centre in the south of France founded by Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, and dedicated to the study of mindfulness.

Shot over the course of three years, Walk With Me, as its title suggests, invites the audience to take a walk with the otherwise secluded zen monks in the monastery, and even accompany them on their travels abroad. Narrated by the deep,serene voice of Benedict Cumberbatch and preoccupied not with events but rather their absence, the film resembles more a poem than a documentary. Historical context of Plum Village and its monks is scarce, if not completely missing, and the lack of any personal perspective could easily lead to estrangement.


But maybe this is the point. Having spent years detached from worldly longing and possessions, it seems quite unlikely that the monks would open up to deeply emotional confessions or private memories about their past. Thich Nhat Hanh’s notion of thoughtfulness teaches silence and presence, appreciation of the things that are and the art of letting go the things that are no more. Cinema is a medium ontologically fit to portray such state, as it is in its nature to capture nowness, the present moment in all its details. Slow editing helps to convey a philosophy similar to the study of thoughtfulness.

Walk With Me successfully delivers a few touching and intimate moments, despite mostly shunning the personal experience. A group of monks silently meditates in line, eyes closed, breath deep yet silent. One young man struggles to find comfort in the exercise – he yawns a few times, budges and twitches -, but he eventually find his way back to peace. The older monk in front of him find the action slightly disturbing. We also witness monks reuniting with their families for the first time after years of separation. In a very moving scene, a man recognises an old friend, whom he had previously thought dead.

Similar to Jon Nguyen’s David Lynch: The Art Life (2016) in its exploration of a subject completely disinterested in personal exposure, Walk With Me has no real narrative. Yet, as in the former, there is a level of deep intimacy shared in the spectators, coming not from subjective stories and action, but from the Buddhists’ willingness to communicate the ideas to which they have devoted their lives..

Walk With Me is out on DVD and VoD on Monday, April 30th.