‘The Forgiven‘—the 2021 film by writer-director John Michael McDonagh—holds all the makings of an intriguing movie capable of captivating fans of exotic thrillers, as well as viewers interested in cross-cultural encounters or the moral dimensions of taking responsibility. McDonagh’s screenplay is based on a novel by Lawrence Osborne set in Morocco. Unlike in several other well-known (or even famous) films, the Northwest African country—which is visually stunning filmed here—serves as more than just a backdrop in ‘The Forgiven‘. At the heart of the plot lies the interaction between a group of Westerners—whether Morocco-based residents or tourists engaging in various forms of travel, some more debauched than others—and the locals who serve them, whose lives are shaped and influenced by the foreigners’ presence. It is a timely and fascinating theme, provided it is explored in depth, with an understanding of the diverse personalities and nuances that distinguish the characters. This is precisely where I felt that the film only partially succeeded, despite its good intentions and high-quality performances.
The film’s protagonists, David and Jo Henninger, are a Western couple past their first youth (he more so than she) attempting to mend their relationship through a trip to Morocco—a journey heavily fueled by alcohol, with the ultimate destination being a friend’s luxurious villa where a decadent party is underway. While driving through the mountainous desert at night, David accidentally kills a teenager—a boy who might have been trying to rob them or simply wanted to sell a local souvenir: a rare fossil, a remnant of the seas that covered this part of the world millions of years ago. The police easily cover up the accident, but the teenager’s father appears, demanding not only his son’s body but also David’s participation in a journey to Berber territory for the burial. The man from the “civilized world” faces an extreme experience upon encountering the people whose lives he has upended—intentionally or not, it no longer matters. How will he survive, and what will he take away from this experience? Will he accept responsibility? Meanwhile, his wife, Jo, seeks solace in the debauched pleasures of a party at the villa. Will their relationship which was already falling apart survive?
The premise is intriguing, and there are many potential avenues for deeper exploration within the story. Unfortunately, in my opinion, none of them go far enough. ‘The Forgiven‘s depiction of the clash of cultures lacks nuance and relies on stereotypes to define both situations and characters. The marital crisis and moral dilemmas facing David and Jo also gave me a sense of déjà vu. The cast of characters inhabiting the desert villa is interesting, yet we barely get to know who each one is before they vanish, leaving behind little more than a faint outline. A few outstanding acting performances manage to partially redeem the film. Ralph Fiennes—an actor I have yet to see fail to bring a role to vivid life—succeeds once again in creating a memorable character. Jessica Chastain is solid; while her character lacks depth, the actress breathes life into her. I was particularly impressed by the performances of three Moroccan actors who drew upon their own experiences to enrich their characters’ emotions: Ismael Kanater as the father, Saïd Taghmaoui as the guide Anouar, and Mourad Zaoui as Hamid, the head of the villa’s staff. All three authentically and with restrained dramatic power conveyed the locals’ feelings regarding their encounters with foreigners. The dignity of these characters serves the story’s message far better than the efforts of the screenwriter-director, who—despite good intentions—could not avoid an “Orientalist” approach.