Noaz Deshe's WHITE SHADOW shows us the frightful, lurid, awful life of an African Albino

Uncompromising. That might be a pretty good word to describe a movie like WHITE SHADOW, which, though it sounds like a possible dog or wolf tale (or a remake of that popular TV series from the late 1970s), is actually a story about a young Albino man in Tanzania, Africa, who is almost constantly on the run because Albinos -- like elephants, rhinos and other animals -- are prized most in the Dark Continent for certain of their body parts and organs, which are used by the local Tanzanian witch doctors to make "magical" potions. We're not talking fantasy here. What happens in the film is evidently more the rule than the exception regarding African Albinos.

Co-written (with James Masson) and directed by Noaz Deshe (shown at right), this nearly two-hour movie begins with a lovely visual fantasy/dream. Treasure these few moments because they are just about the only positive and beautiful things you'll be seeing. Post-dream we encounter our hero, an Albino named Alias (played by Hamisi Basili, below) and his family, only to witness the horrifying slaughter of his Albino father. Soon Alias is himself slaughtering a chicken and, with the help of his mother, spilling its blood over Daddy's grave.

We also meet Alias' little friend Salum, (played by Salum Adballah, below) and their friendship goes some distance in making the movie a bit more filmgoer-friendly--story-wise, at least. Yet, finally, loss is every-where for our hero, who spends his time alternating mourning with fleeing.

Impressionistic to a fault, Deshe's film hops and skips all over the place -- from character to character, countryside to city and back again, from witch doctors to the workplace (such as it is), dragging us along as though we had any idea of where were or why. The confusion is effective for a time, but eventually some of us -- yours truly, at least, want a deeper and better understanding of the characters, their background, and the traditions that have helped form the culture we're observing.

These things are certainly hinted at, but the constant motion, the choppiness of the editing, together with the truly horrific tale being told of the persecution and murder of Albinos becomes an endurance test. I watched and finally finished the film, more out of a sense of guilt than anything else -- for a situation this dire deserves to be witnessed.

If the movie succeeds in bringing to light the plight of Albinos in Tanzania (and probably elsewhere in Africa, as well) then it must be credited as a major success. No doubt this is what pushed the likes of Ryan Gosling to act as executive producer on the film.

White Shadow -- from IndiePix, running 117 minutes, and in Swahili with English subtitles -- arrives on DVD and digital platform this coming Tuesday, September 29. Click here to view options for purchase or rental. 

Best Foreign Language Film nominee (and maybe winner?) -- Abderrahmane Sissako's TIMBUKTU

TrustMovies hasn't yet seen Estonia's Tangerines nor Argentina's Wild Tales, but of the three BFLF Oscar nominees he has seen -- including the beautifully photographed but terribly obvious Ida and the tell-us-again-how-corrupt-and-bullying-modern-Russia can-be Leviathan -- Mauritania's small-scale but gorgeous and engrossing TIMBUKTU by veteran director Abderrahmane Sissako is by far the best. It shows us things we have not previously seen, especially what the incursion of Islam fundamentalists into a town in Africa means to its inhabitants (rather than what this kind of fundamentalism might do to our own western sensibility), and it does this in a manner that is thought-provoking, comic, sad and, yes, frustrating. This film is also remarkably beautiful to watch.

Mr. Sissako, shown at left, is able to weave several stories together loosely but mindfully, so that we follow both the "soldiers of god" and the inhabitants they seek to control. We see the lives of these people as they were but may be no more, and view the innate beauty of both place and person, while also noticing some of the flaws that even the dearest of the inhabi-tants possess. There is no doubt with whom the filmmaker sympathizes but he's too smart a guy to pretend that one side is perfect and the other perfectly awful. He allows us to view and even under-stand every character's viewpoint -- as ridiculous as this sometimes can be.

In the opening scene what looks to me like a gazelle races gracefully across the African plain pursued by soldiers shooting at it in an open jeep. We fear for that gazelle, but then a commanding voice says, "Don't kill it, just tire it out." (Isn't this the goal of fundamentalism?) And then we meet various characters at work and at leisure -- both of which will very soon change by becoming "against god" and therefore suddenly illegal.

A man who owns some cattle relaxes in a tent with wife and daughter. When he must leave for awhile, one of those soldiers drives up and clearly has intentions toward the wife. "Why do you only come here when my husband is gone?" she asks, and he is shamed into leaving.

In the craziest/silliest bit of religious nonsense, a woman selling fish is told she must wear gloves, while men must roll up their pant-legs. A mosque is visited while celebrants are at prayer, and the soldiers are reminded that they are in a house of god. Of course, they know this and so back off -- at least for a bit.

But then, in Sissako's boldest and smartest movie, a collision occurs that the soldiers have nothing to do with. While slaking their thirst in the river, the cattle of our very contented fellow break into the nets of a local fisherman, who has previously warned the young boy who tends those cattle. A spear is thrown and suddenly everything changes.

More than anything else, Timbuktu is about justice -- and its quicksilver elusivity. It is also about how we try so hard to get around whatever stands in the way of what we imagine to be that justice, whether this means playing football, which has now been banned, with an imaginary ball, or singing songs that may possibly squeak by because they have a religious meaning, after music, too, has been outlawed.

If I'm not mistaken, I believe I noticed in the thank-you's a nod to Elia Suleiman. This shouldn't be surprising, as the two filmmakers have subtlety, style and an inquiring mind in common. Both hope to understand conflicting viewpoints while already understanding how difficult this can be.

But it is the attempt that counts -- particularly when that attempt is so utterly beautiful to view and finally so sorrowful to contemplate. Sissako's finale is a continuous piece of filmmaking that holds you breathless -- until it suddenly leaves you lost in media res.

Timbuktu -- from Cohen Media Group, running just 97 vital minutes and spoken in five different languages, including English (with subtitles when not) -- opens this coming Wednesday, January 28, in New York City (at Film Forum and Lincoln Plaza Cinema) and in Los Angeles (at Laemmle's Royal) on Friday, January 30, and then at other Laemmle theaters in the weeks following.

Experience the third world more fully than usual; Sylvia Caminer's TANZANIA: A JOURNEY WITHIN

Stick with TANZANIA: A JOURNEY WITHIN. I say this because you may be tempted, as was I, to imagine that you've stumbled into watching yet another documentary about a first-world twit hoping to discover her or himself by visiting a third-world country. Though the movie does begin with an indication of something serious -- our heroine looks mighty sick and is headed for the hospital -- it immediately flashes back to a much earlier time, as college students Kristen Kenney and Venance Ndibalema (hereafter to be called Kris and Ven) explain why they will soon be traveling to Ven's home country of Tanzania. And then they are there, and before you can say "Don't do that," Kris is out in the streets of Dar es Salaam -- blond braids flowing, heavy-duty eye make-up in place -- dancing in front of the natives and generally making a spectacle of herself. Gheesh.

Soon after Kris uses the word "primitive" to describe the culture, to which Ven takes understandable offense. Very slowly, and probably intentionally on the part of the film's director, Sylvia Caminer (shown below), the movie, along with these two characters, begins to deepen. Soon we meet Ven's mentor, the woman who encouraged him to try to get to the United States, and then little by little, we learn of this young man's history, his family and what happened to them. Previous to this, however, we climb, along with our friends and their guides, that famous snowy mountain, Kilimanjaro, and once again, poor Kris seems hugely out of place. She wonders -- and we do, too -- whether she will survive this climb.

Then it's off to the Serengeti, where we see some wildlife, and Kris gets ecstatic and begins to sound like whatever passes for today's Valley Girl: "Shut up -- there's a giraffe!"  Kris seems to repre-sent, more than anything else, that unique need among American youth, female variety especially, to be happy and chipper at all times -- no matter how many teeth are set on edge in the process. She explains things that we don't need to know: A propos female lions protecting their kill, "It would be the same thing in my family, if someone was coming to steal our food." Well, OK.

So thank god for Ven, who turns out to be not only Kris' savior but the film's. He tells us how his mother taught him to use a knife and fork -- in a country where everyone uses his/her right hand to eat -- and we begin to see how the young man was set on the course he has followed.

The pair travels to a outlying village were we meet Ven's grandmother (above: his mother is dead, and the story of how and why adds immensely to the movie's pull).

Around the halfway point, Kris' make-up seems to lighten a good deal and then disappears all together. She, too, begins to win us over via what looks like some genuine growth and change. In the village, we spend time with the women and learn their place here. They do the work -- all of it, it seems -- and are rewarded for their trouble with the AIDS virus, which they get from their lazy, errant men.

We see HIV experienced here in a very new and disquieting way, as shown in the situation of a child suspected of having the disease (both her parents died of it) and so is shunned through-out the community. "Death is the last wedding," as one tribal saying goes. Finally Kris herself undergoes an affecting break-down as she realizes in a more profound way the enormous differ-ences between this culture and her own.

One young woman in the village, in particular (she's shown above, with Kris), wants desperately to be able to leave it and become a teacher. How difficult this turns out to be we eventually learn.

We search for the grave of Ven's mother; when we find it, the movie comes upon genuine grief, which is powerful stuff. Little wonder Kris finally admits, "I was soulless before this trip. Everything in my life was material. This is the real world." It certainly is for those who must live here.

By the time the credits roll, you'll probably want to order one of the bracelets that are mentioned in those credits, along with the charity that's been set up and that hopes to eventually stamp out malaria in the region (www.malaikaforlife.org).

Meanwhile Tanzania: A Journey Within, running 102 minutes, opens this Friday, April 25, in New York City at the Quad Cinema and on May 2 in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Noho 7.  To see other playdates for the film, click here.