The Mother of All Lies review – pursuing the truth of Morocco’s brutal dictatorship years

Asmae El Moudir employs a delicate mix of handmade replicas and oral testimony to brilliantly evoke personal and collective trauma Between those who refuse to remember and those who struggle to forget, a tumultuous clash of minds occupies the centre of Asmae El Moudir’s inventive documentary, a prize-winner at last year’s Cannes film festival. Through a constellation of clay figurines and dollhouse-style miniature sets, most of which were constructed by El Moudir’s father, the director recreates her oppressive childhood in the Sebata district of Casablanca. Under the watchful eyes of her domineering grandmother Zahra, all personal photos are banished from the house, save for a picture of King Hassan II. The delicate mix of handmade replicas and oral testimony brilliantly evokes the personal and collective trauma that stem from Morocco’s “Years of Lead” – a period of state brutality under Hassan II’s dictatorial rule. Lingering on the nimble fingers of El Moudir’s father as he puts t

Tokyo Story review – Yasujiro Ozu’s exquisite family tale stands the test of time

An elderly couple visit their grownup children in this stunning work of art from 1953, now re-released for its 70th anniversary

The exquisite sadness of Yasujiro Ozu’s 1953 film, now re-released for its 70th anniversary, does not get any more bearable or less overwhelming with time. With each repeated viewing, the film of tears obscuring my own view of its star Setsuko Hara appears earlier and earlier, making her heartbreakingly decent, courageous smile shimmer and wobble. Ozu’s distinctive and stylised idiom, with low shooting angles and direct sightlines into camera, creates something mesmerically formal to match the drama’s emotional restraint, which is more devastating when the dam is breached. When Hara’s smile finally drops, it is like a gunshot.

Chieko Higashiyama and Ozu’s repertory stalwart Chishu Ryu play the elderly Tomi and Shukichi, who live in the quiet town of Onomichi; they are gentle country mice, almost childlike in the calm, smiling way they address each other. This heartbreakingly modest couple have taken the decision in the evening of their lives (although apparently only in their 60s: Ryu was in fact just 49 when the film was first released) to make the arduous and bewildering journey to Tokyo in the sweltering summer to visit their grownup children.

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