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Rating: The current events in real-time offer a diverse array of personal and individualistic reflections. Among singing politicians, sexgates certified made in Italy, socio-economic crises invoked by apocalyptic statistics and falsely outraged media, and enticing showgirls on the set of some holiday movie, we witness the catastrophe of Maghrebian immigrants fleeing the anti-dictatorial revolutions. Hordes of refugees also dragging unfortunate ones from sub-Saharan Africa towards the Italian coasts, particularly towards that island of Lampedusa which, for its fortune/misfortune, stands as a geographic/cultural bridge between three continents.
Analyzing these dynamics socio-empirically equates to mass-producing volumes and booklets of sophisticated rhetoric, at times interesting and engaging, at other times exuberant and tedious. Occasions in which words become too many and vain and, therefore, an emblematic image and a strategically crafted story on realistic bases are able to efficiently and effectively stylize a contemporaneity subjected multiple times to discretionary and arbitrary interpretations.
"Letters from the Sahara" does not outline a bland, benevolent fable in which the good defeat the evil persecutors of mankind. In the form of a sociological reportage/documentary, the piece narrates the stories of Assane Kebe, a young Senegalese fleeing the poverty of his country towards more promising lands. Subjected to a real slave trade under the aegis of mafias and other criminal organizations, Assane arrives in Lampedusa. Aware of an imminent forced repatriation by the Italian authorities, the young man escapes from the control of the law enforcement: thus begins the odyssey of an outcast who dreams of 21st-century America. And he deludes himself into finding it.
Assane first tries his luck in Naples, being compelled to find refuge in territories where he might find useful contacts for possible integration (completed with a job, a residence permit, and any other necessities for the "legitimization" of his fugitive status). Unfortunately, the choice proves fruitless due to the Camorra, to which a fellow compatriot of his is tied. However, not even Florence, the modern-day Ulysses' second destination, ends the hardship: Assane is disillusioned by his cousin's new lifestyle, a successful model, abdicating God and Senegalese traditions for the Western Style.
The last hope is, therefore, industrial Turin. The Piedmontese capital seems to repay the refugee for the pains of an endless journey: initially a street vendor and irregularly employed metallurgical worker, he manages to earn a residence permit by working as a caregiver for a problematic teenager, as well as participating in school and cultural-formative programs promoted by social services. Integration begins to show its positive effects until a gang of xenophobic youths accost Assane and a friend of his as they exit a venue, assaulting them violently and forcing them to fall into the Po, a misadventure that recalls for the young man the terrible visions of fellow exiles thrown into the sea by traffickers.
The dream of a new, peaceful, and convivial existence in the European continent fails: Assane returns to Senegal, welcomed by relatives, friends, and his old university professor whose (post-colonial) invective against Western racist barbarities concludes the events.
The film is a lucid, albeit slightly stereotypical, portrayal of popular Italy in the face of illegal immigration: on one side hatred and contempt of the xenophobic-racist component, exalted even by local political currents (and beyond), on the other the ruthless exploitation of refugees, forced not only to work illegally in large factories but also to enter unfortunate negotiations with mafias (agreements destined for abuse, threats, and violence by criminal organizations). In the middle of these two evils stand the virtue and merits of social services, dedicated to taking care, even individually, of immigrants through their peaceful and cordial integration into the social-cultural life of cities (see the multiethnic centers and evening schools for foreigners).
The principal communicative idea of the film appears to be the dramatic representation of the immigrant, set in a frame (background) entirely, or almost, negative. With the intent to provoke public indignation in front of the problem of illegal immigrants, the director illustrates degraded, dark, sad, pitiful contexts: the archetype/stereotype of the immigrant concerns failed integration (divergence between the Western "profane" superficiality and the Senegalese-African sacred/convivial/social tradition), seen as a failure so severe as to abandon the promised land and return to the homeland, initially an earthly hell from which to flee, then re-become the Eden of God, dignity, humility that, although overwhelmed by poverty, do not intend to blend in with those who make materialism their raison d'être.
"Peace be with you."
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