En attendant le bonheur

While this may sound totally implausible to most, the film this most resembled, for me, was Claire Denis's recent release FRIDAY NIGHT (VENDREDI SOIR), a French European film with little or no dialogue, but it is an impressionistic mosaic which the viewer can follow. Here, in a film that, culturally, more closely resembles an Iranian film, like THE DAY I BECAME A WOMAN, it is literally an odyssey of images, with little to no narrative, only the images tell the story, and it ends up being an exhilarating experience, suitable for nearly all ages, that is a rare treat "outside" experimental film. This is one of the most tender, gentlest films I've ever seen, which relies in large degree, on the West African music which is featured prominently throughout, particularly at the finale which I found excruciatingly beautiful. A rare treat.

"Heremakono" ("Waiting for Happiness") is a pure cinematic treat. A film in which the camera work, the minimal use of dialogue, the images themselves, are meant to tell the story, is what the Mauritanian-born, Russian-educated director, Abderrahmane Sissako, decided to grace the big screen with. We are made to share the day-to-day life of a little community from Nouadhibou, a small seaside village on the Mauritanian coast. It is a transit city, with predominantly temporary housing, called "heremakono", the Hassianyan for "waiting for happiness".

The film's charm is that we, the viewers, are forced to become temporary inhabitants. We learn disjointed information about the lives of the people we encounter in our way: Maata is the electrician who knows little about his job; Khatra is the orphaned boy who finds his shelter under Maata's protection; Abdallah is the son that decided to visit his mother before emigrating to Europe, frustrated by his rootless past; Nana is the local prostitute who lost a daughter from a failed relationship; Tchu is the corner's dealer of useless objects, trying to integrate in the distorted web of this deserted place. None find happiness in this exile before the voyage, and yet "maybe waiting is actually happiness" (Sissako).

Jacques Besse's remarkable cinematography and especially Oumou Sangare's soothing music are two shadows that are to hunt you for days after you've seen "Heremakono". A light bulb will never be only a light bulb, nor its light will ever identify with happiness. We all search for light, and only when we find it, then we switch it off, and only then do we gain peace. This seems to be the final message of "Waiting for Happiness".

Sissako, like Scorsese, does not consider time an enemy. He allows us enjoy the moment, its vibration, its numbness. And this is more laudable if we consider that most characters are played by non-professional actors. And what beautiful performances we are offered, especially from the young Khatra Ould Abdel Kader. A true talent! Beauty and peace…. What more should we want

In this film's rather drifting narrative we join several characters including Adalah, a young man who doesn't fit in with his society and tends to read alone a lot and Khatra, a young boy in the care of an old man who uses him as an assistant when he works as an electrician. Their stories unfold with a pace that would make a glacier think that perhaps he should put the breaks on a little himself so as to keep up his reputation. Very little happens and it happens very slowly; some of it doesn't seem to be going anywhere while other bits of it seem to go somewhere but never anywhere that would suggest that it was a narrative that was driving it.

If this sounds a problem then that is because I felt that it was. I'd like to pretend that I am some arty type and that the drifting air to a film doesn't bother me but it did here because I felt I was missing something and perhaps I was. Not knowing anything of import about Mauritania I struggled to find a meaning or metaphor below the surface simply because I won't have been able to read it even if it was obvious to others. Without this it does still serve as an insight into the community where progress sits uneasily beside the daily grind of tradition and, although this isn't that well laid out, it does still provide some reason for keeping watching.

In some films improvisation is a good thing and has worked well but here it contributes to the feeling of a snapshot rather than a story. That said, the cast of almost all non-actors perform well and produce some natural and interesting performances. Mohamed's Adalah could have really done with more lines to flesh out his character because, try as he might, he doesn't make much of an impression. Kader is much better as Khatra, he makes an interesting character and is utterly convincing and enjoyable. The support cast have plenty of natural performances although they provide more of a sense of a community rather than interesting individuals. Sissako's direction is good and the film looks good – the bleak look matching the quiet and lowkey material and characters.

Overall this is a very slow film that goes nowhere and goes there pretty slowly. Without a knowledge of the country I cannot really comment on whether subtexts and such are present or if they work but it is still an interesting look at the community. The story is almost absent apart from small turns but if you can cope with the emptiness and rather bleak beauty of it then it is worth seeing – just don't expect a great deal from it.

What a beautiful film to see. I lucked out when it came on satellite. It just ended. I was supposed to take a nap to do something later but I couldn't resist watching this film. The photography is wonderful. It's quiet but totally worth watching.

The storyline is universal to being in a family. To see such beautiful people presented in traditional clothing is fantastic. The traditional music is entrancing and used effectively throughout the film. The photography of women is luscious and loving. Scenes of women dancing and singing shine in my mind. The director is top of the line, a-number-one.

Living next to the sea in the white windy sand dunes, with Sahara desert all around.

Waiting for. Sat inside a listless life. Waiting that isn't procrastinating. Cus there's nothing waiting to be done.

If you don't mind waiting – if you actually prefer waiting as an antidote to too much busy doing – you'll like this film.

The wind whirling around that sand. Jan Gabarek saxophone comes out of car stereo. Surprising touch of contemporary modernity.

More like a vernacular documentary than a scripted drama. Watch it like you listen to music, like you were that young daughter singing along with her mother playing the kora.

Reminiscent of Iranian film The Day I became a Woman. The sea, sand, the white light, vivid cotton colours of clothes worn, those sheets flapped by the wind. Relationships – between old electrician and his young apprentice for example – having the symbolic tenderness of a timeless parable.

How many African films have i seen? Not many. Mauritania looks unfamiliar, feels unknown. Where is Mauritania anyway? A languid quiescence bleaches out of almost every scene. I can feel myself wanting to lie back and be as quiet as the characters are.

This is a proper film. By proper i mean owned by the director, belonging somewhere personal and close to heart. Not a made for cinema confection.

There's something beautiful – as well as truthful – about the compassionate integrity of this film.