Slow cinema certainly isn’t for everyone. And sometimes it can be difficult to separate slow-burn movies from ones that simply have a plot way too thin. Abdellah Taïa’s Cabo Negro, a co-production between France and Morocco, spends its first half testing the audience’s patience. It doesn’t offer any plot exposition or backstory, and you wouldn’t be blamed for getting a little frustrated. However, once the story reveals itself and Taïa’s ideas and themes are made apparent, it becomes a sweet and heartbreaking tale of people trying to find their place in the world. What Taïa may lack in plot, he makes up for with some stunning visuals and effective sequences. I found myself having a rare experience of going from extremely disliking the movie for its aimless direction to being particularly moved by what it eventually has to say. It's a shame because if it expanded on its plot more and didn't make the first 45 minutes feel so bare, Cabo Negro could've been a truly excellent film. Still, there is much to be appreciated in the version we got.

What Is 'Cabo Negro' About?

Two friends in their late teens or early 20s, Jaafar (Youness Beyej) and Soundouss (Oumaima Barid) arrive at a pristine villa in the exclusive resort town of Cabo Negro in Morocco. They are to be hosted by the wealthy American, Jonathan, who they say they are working for as research assistants when in reality, he is Jaafar’s seasonal lover. Jonathan has not arrived yet and is not picking up his phone, so the two friends spend their days hanging out at the beach and enjoying their new luxury home. However, when Jonathan continues to avoid all contact and the hostile villa owner wants the guests gone, the idyllic summer holiday gets cut short. Jaafar and Soundouss start running out of money, and to be able to eat, they turn to sex work. What the two friends thought would be the holiday of a lifetime becomes a stark reminder of their place in the world, and how running away from home can’t help them escape their past.

'Cabo Negro's First Half Is Way Too Slow

The first half of Cabo Negro is an extreme test of patience. It’s incredibly slow for the first 45 minutes, offering no set-up or backstory as to why these characters are in the situation they’re in. Jaafar and Soundouss are both reticent to speak and scenes of silence or a few words are stretched out to the point that it sometimes feels comical. No particular ideas or themes seem to come to the forefront. However, once the plot does kick in and we start to see an actual narrative, Cabo Negro has a lot of heart to it. This starts when a heartbroken Soundouss goes to a shop to get pictures printed of her ex-girlfriend who she is still madly in love with. As Soundouss fawns over the photographs, the woman behind the counter looks at her with an equal amount of endearment and sympathy. “Good luck to you,” she says as Soundouss happily walks out.

The crux of Cabo Negro is made up of these subtle, smaller moments. These all add up to what the film eventually reveals itself to be about: community. The two friends are displaced and disenfranchised. They have no home and have to work by any means necessary to keep their current one. While both are queer, they are still in touch with their Muslim faith, despite it being intolerant of their sexuality. Jafaar is able to be gay and still say his daily prayers. This conflict of faith and identity has clearly left its mark on the two young people. They disassociate as they pick up Johns, and Jafaar recounts horrific abuse at a young age with a detached sense of catatonia. The darker aspects of their lives are captured with the same mundane detachment, emphasizing how much the pair have acquiesced to a lifestyle they've been forced to lead.

'Cabo Negro's Second Half Is Full of Heart

The best scene in the film and the one that sums up its thesis is when Soundouss makes a massive bowl of a couscous and meat dish and brings it outside to Jafaar, his new boyfriend Mounir, and other transient folk as they all eat from it together, some with spoons, some with hands. No one is saying a word but from the way Taïa captures the moment, it’s obvious that this has been the most community they’ve experienced in ages. A group of outsiders having a shared experience that resembles a family offers a profound image that makes the first hour of excruciating slowness worth it.

With any slow-burn film or slice-of-life story, there's a lot hanging on the performers to carry the minimal plot action. Youness Beyej and Oumaima Barid's quiet subtlety may not initially come off as anything groundbreaking, but once the story steps up, so do they. Their conversations reveal a dark past for Jaafar, one of considerable trauma that has led him to crave a sense of place. It's never spelled out but implied that the two are destined for a difficult life on account of their sexuality. Still, they are never reduced to their hardship. Barid, in particular, displays a naive but infectious joy when she talks to her girlfriend or has enough people to prepare a meal for. Beyej plays the lost Jaafar who's in need of love with a great deal of thoughtfulness, and the two together are a pair that you only wish the best for. They both display the tragedy of their characters' circumstances but also a sense of hope that they will eventually find their home.

Cabo Negro certainly won’t be a film for everyone. But if you can make it past the thin plot and very minimalistic approach, you’ll uncover a powerful story with some heartfelt messages behind it. What works so well about Taïa’s approach to the story is that he does not try to force any particular feeling on the viewer. There are some uncomfortable and upsetting instances of Soundouss and Jafaar having to bite their lip and become servile to those in power, but it’s never done in an overly dramatic or exploitative tone. Taïa wants to present a slice of life, one that doesn't offer comfort but insight into how some people must fight every day to live a somewhat peaceful life.

Cabo Negro had its world premiere at the 2024 Karlovy Vary International Film Festival.