O Céu Que Nos Protege

American couple Port (John Malkovich) and Kit Moresby (Debra Winger) see themselves as travelers looking for new experiences. They go to Tangier after the war with their friend George Tunner (Campbell Scott) who they see more as a tourist. Port is introduced to a prostitute and is robbed. Kit and George take a train trip. Port is jealous and follows them catching a ride with the Lyles (Jill Bennett, Timothy Spall).

It's a grand meandering story about being aimless. It's not just about being aimless but there is also a pointlessness about the movie. The location shoots are wonderfully exotic. Malkovich is chewing up the scenes and Spall is being weird. However the movie struggles to find a meaning.

It's hard to understand why this film doesn't get better reviews. Yes of course it's a reflective arty film where evoking feelings is more important than narrative drive. The amount of nudity, though in keeping with the story, does perhaps hinder its being taken seriously by some.

Surely though it succeeds as well as any film has in painting a cinematic picture of the experience of being a stranger in a strange land? The cultural barriers, dissonances, language, the maze of similar streets - everything comes together to create the feeling of utter helplessness Kit experiences when she tries to get help for the ill Port. The confusing weird relationships, often only partially depicted in the film heighten the sense of being adrift in life.

Together with some of the best ever desert cinematography rivaling even Lawrence of Arabia, North African music, noises, characters and colors this film is a rich feast for the senses indeed. And what a wonderful final voice-over, one of the most deep and thought-provoking lines in all the movies.

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.

Two post-WWII Manhattan sophisticates who travel to avoid standing still embark on a soul-searching expedition into the Sahara Desert, where the beautiful but desolate landscapes provide a mirror to their own troubled relationship. The film is nothing if not exotic, presenting some of the purest visions of the desert since Peter O'Toole first rode a camel in 'Lawrence of Arabia'. But the scenario works best when presented as an ethnic travelogue, ushering viewers into an utterly foreign world. The messy marital plot conflicts are, by comparison, all rather vague, especially after Debra Winger goes native in a Bedouin harem. The story never really finds an ending, because there isn't anything to resolve: the characters all exist in a (handsomely photographed) vacuum, and their motivations are even more mysterious than the Arab culture surrounding them. The intrusive (and, as usual, unnecessary) voice-over narration is by novelist Paul Bowles himself, briefly glimpsed in the film's opening scenes.