CIFF 2022 | ‘The Blue Caftan’ review: A tour-de-force of sensuality and emotion
“The Blue Caftan” establishes Maryam Touzani as both a vital contributor to new queer cinema and one of international film’s most capable rising auteurs.
Ayoub Missioui and Saleh Bakri in “The Blue Caftan.” Photo courtesy of Les films du nouveau monde.
Ever since “Blue is the Warmest Colour” made waves (both the good and the bad kind) all the way back in 2013, blue has gained a reputation as “the gay colour.” From dominating colour palettes in films like “Call Me By Your Name” and “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” to being unceremoniously shoved into other queer film titles like the terrible and long-forgotten “Burning Blue,” and 2019 festival circuit contender “Sequin in a Blue Room.” Now, in 2022, we have yet another LGBT-centric film doing the rounds on the festival circuit with “blue” in the title — Moroccan director Maryam Touzani’s “The Blue Caftan,” which follows long-married tailor couple Halim (Saleh Bakri) and Mina (Lubna Azabal) as they enter the latter half of their lives while contending with Mina’s declining health and Halim’s growing attraction to his apprentice Youssef (Ayoub Missioui).
You may notice that Halim and Mina’s story seems oddly similar to that of Tom and Marian’s from fellow queer festival heavyweight “My Policeman,” except, as one might expect (given that Touzani’s previous feature film “Adam” was also an understated queer masterpiece), “The Blue Caftan” is better on almost every front. In “The Blue Caftan,” sensuality oozes from every scene, with thinly-veiled double entendres galore; long, yearning looks from across rooms and hallways; and, with every furtive brush of skin, enough sparks flying that it would be completely justified if someone yelled “Fire!” in your (hopefully crowded) cinema. There is no shortage of chemistry between both Halim and Mina, and Halim and Youssef, albeit in different ways — Mina’s ability to go from diligent taskmaster to vivacious companion acts as a foil for Hamid’s quiet introversion, whereas Youssef is both Halim’s muse and mirror; proving himself to be so much more than a one-dimensional love interest over the course of the film.
However, the best thing about both “The Blue Caftan” and “My Policeman” is one that they both do equally well. It’s been more than refreshing and very, very welcome to see a wave of new queer cinema that doesn’t marginalise the stories of those who have had to give up fulfilling their own romantic (and sometimes professional) ambitions in order to act as a smokescreen for their closeted spouse’s queerness. In fact, when it comes to “The Blue Caftan,” one would have to be delusional not to see that Mina is the real protagonist and focus of the narrative, not Halim and Youssef or their budding relationship. Perhaps this is partly thanks to Lubna Azabal’s scene-stealing charisma and radiance, but due credit must also be given to Touzani and co-writer Nabil Ayouch for centering a story as remarkable as hers as the heart of “The Blue Caftan.” Mina is supportive, but flawed; quick to anger, but easily as quick to forgive. Even as she begins to be subsumed by her illness, Azabal’s perfect embodiment of her never stops being a delight to behold onscreen.
“The Blue Caftan” is as sumptuous as Halim’s caftans, with no shortage of passion in both the film’s narrative itself, and in the loving effort that Touzani has poured into her craft. Somehow tender, yet also a tour-de-force of emotion and sensuality, “The Blue Caftan” guarantees that Touzani’s name is one to watch in the future — both as a filmmaker who treats queer narratives with the sensitivity and understanding that they require, and as one of the international film scene’s most capable rising auteurs.
