Waiting for the Barbarians (2019) Review

Throughout his career, J. M. Coetzee has shown an obsession with questions of colonialism, power and violence. From the brutal encounters of ‘Dusklands’ and ‘Age of Iron’, to the haunting isolation of ‘Life & Times of Michael K’, as well as the moral reckoning of post-apartheid South Africa in ‘Disgrace’, Coetzee has repeatedly examined the ethical consequences of oppression and the fragility of civilisation. His works rarely offer simple resolutions, instead challenging readers to confront the ambiguities of justice, authority and responsibility. 

These concerns find one of their most distilled expressions in ‘Waiting for the Barbarians’, an allegorical novel that interrogates the paranoia and violence underpinning imperial rule. Set in an unnamed frontier settlement on the edge of an empire, Coetzee’s tale follows the Magistrate, a colonial administrator whose quiet existence is disrupted by the arrival of Colonel Joll and his brutal campaign against the perceived threat of the "barbarians." As imperial violence escalates, the Magistrate becomes increasingly disillusioned with the Empire, finding himself in direct conflict with the system he once served.

Director Ciro Guerra’s 2019 adaptation attempts to translate Coetzee's restrained literary allegory into a cinematic examination of power, cruelty and resistance. The result is ambitious and visually striking, though ultimately flawed. Guerra’s first English-language film, with a screenplay by Coetzee himself, suffers from an uneven narrative structure. Proceedings begin with a sense of intrigue and atmosphere, effectively establishing the tension between the Magistrate and the imperial authorities. The second act, however, is interminably drawn out, with the pacing slipping into inertia.

By the final act, the film feels exhausted rather than emotionally devastating, leaving the impression of a story struggling to maintain its momentum. More importantly, while the adaptation retains many of Coetzee’s central concerns- colonial violence, institutional cruelty and moral responsibility- it doesn’t explore them with the same complexity or subtlety as the novel.

This is particularly evident in the characterisation. The film reduces Coetzee’s ambiguous figures to clear archetypes: the Magistrate is the compassionate and principled man resisting injustice, Colonel Joll is the embodiment of authoritarian cruelty, while Officer Mandel occupies the role of the intermediary whose obedience and enthusiasm help sustain oppressive systems. The novel’s Magistrate is compelling because his opposition to imperial brutality does not absolve him of his own participation in the system. By transforming him into a more conventionally righteous figure, the film removes much of the ambiguity that gives Coetzee’s work its power. The novel is set in a world of grey, asking difficult questions about complicity and responsibility, while the film operates in a world of black and white.

The fact that the screenplay was written by Coetzee makes the film’s shortcomings all the stranger. One might expect the author of such a carefully constructed novel to be uniquely equipped to translate its ideas to the screen. Yet, for whatever reason, the adaptation exchanges the precision of Coetzee’s prose for something far blunter; the scalpel of the novel becoming a sledgehammer of a screenplay.

The narrative shortcomings are all the more disappointing because, on a technical level, ‘Waiting for the Barbarians’ is often a triumph. Chris Menges’ cinematography is stunning, capturing a landscape of vast emptiness and oppressive heat recalling the epic scale of David Lean’s ‘Lawrence of Arabia’. Making excellent use of the Moroccan filming location, the heat is palpable. Indeed, the environment is very much a character in the film: dust storms loom ominously in the surrounding desert, while the relentless sun hangs threateningly above the characters mocking human struggle.

Crispian Sallis and Domenico Sica’s production design is equally impressive, creating an immersive and believable frontier world, while Carlo Poggioli’s costumes and the atmospheric score from Giampiero Ambrosi further enrich the film’s sense of place. Unfortunately, Jacopo Quadri’s editing is sluggish, allowing the narrative to drift, resulting in a plodding rhythm that doesn’t sustain engagement.

The cast, however, perform at the top of their game. Mark Rylance brings a quiet dignity to the Magistrate, effectively portraying a man confronting the uncomfortable reality of his own complicity. His restrained performance suits the character’s introspective nature, often communicating more through silence and expression than dialogue. While the screenplay reduces the Magistrate to a relatively simplistic figure, Rylance overcomes the material.

Johnny Depp’s Colonel Joll is magnetically malevolent, capturing the character’s bureaucratic cruelty with aplomb. It may be a one-note character, but he turns that note into a symphony of villainy. Depp is so good, in fact, that proceedings slow to a crawl anytime he’s not on screen. Robert Pattinson is similarly strong, though underused, in the role of Officer Mandel, as is Gretta Scacchi as the Magistrate’s loyal maidservant Mai.

In the end, Ciro Guerra’s ‘Waiting for the Barbarians’ is a bit of a mixed bag. It is a film of considerable visual beauty, elevated by outstanding performances and an impressive sense of atmosphere. Yet these strengths are undermined by a screenplay struggling to capture the ambiguity and psychological complexity that made Coetzee’s novel so powerful. It’s a film that asks its audience to play the waiting game; the rewards don’t justify the wait.