Un thé au Sahara

Port and Kit Moresby are travellers who come to North Africa to spend a year or so. With them travels a friend, George Tunner. Their journey hides the gradual breakdown of their relationship - a fact that is only highlighted when Port visits an Arab prostitute and Kit sleeps with Tunner after a drunken train journey together.

Before you sit down to see this film, you really need to have asked yourself what sort of mood you are in. Are you looking for a fast film, something entertaining and slick to distract you from life, or provide background noise in the room while you iron? If you are looking for such a movie then there must be thousands of action movies and comedies that you can watch. If you are in a contemplative mood or are able to accept the story that comes at you no matter how slow or difficult to get into then you may as well give this a stab. The film focuses on the relationship between Kit and Port, a relationship that has been crumbling for many years before we are brought into the story. The film then uses the journey as a journey of them both and, ultimately, Kit to find more about themselves, each other and their lives.

If this sounds straightforward then forgive me, for it is not. The film doesn't help; it is difficult to get into the story because at times it doesn't seem to really be about anything. It is not so bad for the majority of the film, but Kit's wander in the last 30 minutes is difficult because it seems to be going nowhere and not be connected to the emotions that we only assume she might be feeling. This is the main problem with the film - not so much the slow pace but the fact that it could be running but it wouldn't matter because it would still feel like it isn't actually going anywhere. It is possible to take something from this film but the actual intension was lost on me - when the final lines of dialogue came I hoped they would be as a torch in a dark room - but they only served to lose me that much more. I hate arty films when they seem to revel in their sheer impenetrateability, sadly that seemed to be the case here.

Malkovich and Winger are both very good; they acted wounded and hurt very well within their veneer of respectability and normalcy. It's a shame that, although their performances help us get into Kit & Port's relationship, they are unable to help us understand (or care) when the film begins to become `deeper' than that. Scott is quite interesting but underused, although Spall and Bennett are reasonably good. The star here is the desert, and it looks great. For all his faults as a storyteller here, Bertolucci can frame a shot, producing a great sense of place as well as some really gorgeous travelogue moments. If that's your thing (a `deep' and beautiful film) then you'll be OK, but I needed some emotional buy in or at least something approaching a narrative that could be easily followed with a bit of thought.

Overall this is an interesting but ultimately frustrating film. It looks great and it all seems very worthy, but where it goes was beyond me. I enjoyed watching it as it forced me to think instead of just vegging out (like so many other films do) but at the end of the day I was left wondering if this was artistic posturing on a big scale or if it really did have an emotional core that I just couldn't reach.

Bernardo Bertolucci co-wrote and directed the film of the classic post WW2 novel by author, Paul Bowles, who also narrates.

The opening shot (after the credits roll over 1947 New York City and a ship disembarks from its port) is of Port's (John Malkovich) face as he awakens in a North African hotel room, the same scene that opens in the novel. Debra Winger is her most attractive as his young wife,'Kit.' They are accompanied by a randy travel companion, 'Tunner.'

The "casbah" atmosphere of the Moslem city's narrow stone streets, flooded with Arab denizens, camels, livestock invites the viewer in.

As soon as the odious "Mrs. Lyle" and her sweaty, overweight son came into the fly-ridden hotel lobby in the hot sultry desert nowhere, I knew I'd love to hate them.

John Malkovich is seduced by a street-smart, young Arab who beckons him to follow through dark streets into a girl prostitute's desert tent. (live chickens inside are a wonderful touch.)

The Sheltering Sky is a good representation of the novel. The book's narrative of setting, characters, and plot is dramatically envisioned and colored by the reader's point of view and imagination. We literally make the story ours; so when we watch the film version, we tend to judge the director's interpretation seriously.

Bertolucci's vision was entertaining and realized well, especially the lead character: the vast Sahara Desert, and exotic ambiance; the cinematography was beautiful. i look forward to watching it on DVD.

"It was such places as this, such moments that he loved above all else in life; she knew that, and she also knew that he loved them more if she could be there to experience them with him. And although he was aware that the very silences and emptinesses that touched his soul terrified her, he could not bear to be reminded of that. It was as if always he held the fresh hope that she, too, would be touched in the same way as he by solitude and the proximity to infinite things."

As photographed by the great Vittorio Storaro, Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Sheltering Sky" is one of the most visually beautiful films ever made, almost every frame a painting in light. It is based on the novel by Paul Bowles about an American couple travelling in North Africa and trying to rekindle any passion that might have been in their marriage. Unfortunately, that flame seems to have been extinguished a long time ago. They are brilliantly played by Debra Winger and John Malkovitch, both at their very best. They have in tow a handsome young American, (Campbell Scott, excellent) and on their travels they meet an eccentric British couple, (Jill Bennett and Timothy Spall), and then there is the handsome young Arab, (Eric Vu-An), that Winger succumbs to. Bowles himself pops up now and then to comment on the action.

It is a slow and cerebral film. Neither Winger nor Malkovitch say very much but convey their feelings in the way they interact with each other. Of course, for a great deal of the time it is impossible to tell if they really love each other or if they simply need each other or if they need each other at all and again, thanks to Storaro, it has all the beauty of a travelogue even if the vast alien landscapes and the appalling conditions in which they find themselves are more likely to put you off visiting North Africa. It is also one of Bertolucci's most underrated films, an intimate epic on the transcience of human relationships and the need to go looking for ourselves in the most unlikeliest of places.

Not exactly a Biopic in the proper sense of the word, but an adaption of the autobiographical and massively dramatised novel by the American author, composer and translator Paul Frederic Bowles (December 30, 1910 – November 18, 1999). In 1947 Bowles settled in Morocco, with his wife, Jane Bowles (February 22, 1917 – May 4, 1973) who was an American writer and playwright in her own right. Not having read the book, it's too difficult to me to comment on its truthfulness, however we know that Paul Bowles was cooperating with the screenwriters, it is he who is narrating the film and even appears in a cameo role. It's the story about a couple's search for stimulation not only within their fading passion and closeness but also for their creativity and productivity. Ultimately, from the personal point of view, this turns out to be a sad enterprise, thinking that the constant traveling and external visual changes would rekindle their evaporated love and disconnection; it's a shortsighted forced-upon chase after illusions.

John Malkovich and Debra Winger are not the usual Hollywood-like physically attractive love couple 'a la Barbie and Ken' nevertheless it was beautifully exciting to watch them perpetually connect and disconnect mentally and physically. As soon as the protagonist dies, that's when the biopic turns into fiction, as Bowles kept on living till 1999. I was wondering if he wrote this scenario as a sort of a metaphor reflecting on his own life and dismantling relationship.

From the famous and truly extraordinary Italian cinematographer, Vittorio Storaro's view, this is a declaration of love to Morocco and its impressive and breathtaking landscapes, culture and nomadic life; a magnificent visual feast and one may even smell all the spices, swatting flies, feel the grit of sand between the teeth, start sweating and get one's blood boiling, not only due to the local heat but also to the carnal sultriness, whilst watching the screen!

Full frontal nudity and a few sensual yet tasteful very erotic scenes and therefore I rate it 16+.

The gorgeous main-theme of the soundtrack is a total tearjerker to me...for sentimentalists only!

Noticed that they drink a lot of MUMM Champagne, oh! how French, and that Eric Vu-An, famous Ballet dancer and ex Etoile de L'Opera de Paris had a secondary very seductive role in this typical Bertolucci epic.