The Forgiven

Fiennes, as good as any living actor at portraying English desiccation, excels as David’s tender, scarred humanity is gradually released from his shell of colonialistic contempt.

The Forgiven takes the harder road, and actually proves more engrossing and haunting in retrospect than when you’re actually watching it. In an era of instant gratification, that, for all the film’s evident flaws, is still worth chin-stroking respect.

This brutal clash of cultures forms the core of the drama.

Comes closer to embodying the tragic futility of two irreconcilable cultures attempting understanding, rather than properly deconstructing it.

... A gathering of cartoon ciphers who seem to have been created solely to allow McDonagh access to his favourite anti-woke whipping sticks.

Beneath the garishly brittle portrait of ghastly westerners lording it up in Morocco, there’s a low-key, brooding quality to this accomplished if somewhat inert screen adaptation of Lawrence Osborne’s 2012 bestseller.

Still, it’s a lot of fun, and perfect for anyone feeling envious of those whose luxury holidays look too good to be true on Instagram.

I’m glad I saw the film, and I can give a mild recommendation to anyone who’s interested. Just know that there are stories that have utilized similar themes better, but there are also ones that have done it a lot worse.

…McDonagh’s unwillingness to characterise the Moroccan characters beyond surly servants and mute witnesses feels very old-fashioned and insensitive…

There are plenty of squirm-worthy moments...of neo-colonial privilege...[b]ut there is...redemption in its later half...contrasting the wild life of privilege of the rich partiers against the struggle to simply live of the people whose land it truly is.