The Guide Book to Film Locations

Morocco

Ait Benhaddou

OK, I'll come clean, this section should correctly be called Marrakech, which is the only city I visited. Most of the filming in Morocco (and there is a lot) centres on Ait Benhaddou, near Ouarzazate, where there are now studios. This is a favourite of Martin Scorsese, who made both Kundun and The Last Temptation of Christ in the country. Filming at Ait Benhaddou goes back to the sixties, when The Last Days of Sodom and Gomorrah was made by the odd team of Robert Aldrich (The Dirty Dozen, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?) and spaghettimeister Sergio Leone, in 1962. Regarded as pretty damn racy in its day, this epic now looks a bit tame and turgid, but it established the look of Ait Benhaddou onscreen. Lawrence of Arabia and Jewel of the Nile filmed. You can still see part of Jewel's set, a wall with a jetplane-shaped hole.

I had to rely on a friend to get me photographs. My destination was Marrakech. We touch down to change planes at Mohammed V Airport, Casablanca. Yes, I know that not a frame of the movie had anything to do with Morocco (it's all Burbank, there was a war on, you know), but, hell, this is the tarmac at Casablanca. It's been raining heavily and everyone is surprised to find this desert area a mass of deep puddles. I'm aching to make a joke about coming to Casablanca for the waters, but I judge there are no movie buffs about.

Now, here's the thing about Morocco. The currecny is controlled. You can't take dirhams in or out of the country. This means you can't change currency before you leave. It also means that what you change while in the country, you have to spend before you leave. So draw money out in small amounts. The problem I have is that I'm taking a night flight and arrive in Casablance at around 9pm, when the Bureau de Change is closed. I have a two hour wait for my connecting flight and no money for a coffee or a bottle of water. Ouch. I'm also worried that there may be nothing at Marrakech, and how will I get to my hotel?

There was, of course, a bomb attack on Casablanca earlier in the year, so airport security is tight. The queues at immigration are not long, but it takes forever to be processed. I should be glad of the security, but I do get into that frustrating frame of mind which sees every queue moving twice as fast as the one I'm standing in. And, of course, when I change queues, the one I move to immediately slows to a crawl. The entrance hall does contain an amazing fountain/sculpture, which reaches the height of the ceiling. Impressive.

Good news, Menara Airport has a cash machine, so I finally get my hands on some dirhams. I've been so worried about being caught without money that I forget my own advice and draw out far more than I need. This is my first trip to Morocco and it's nearly midnight, so I'm relieved to see a driver holding a card bearing my name at Arrivals. It's a short ride to my hotel. I give the driver a huge tip, because I have no change. I'm so crap at tipping. Les Jardins de la Koutoubia is on a short side street in the centre of town. The main landmark of Marrakech is the minaret of the historic Koutoubia mosque, and my hotel is its foot. This has become my rule of thumb for strange cities when I'm travelling alone - get a hotel near a plain landmark: you can always find your way home after a drink.

The Koutoubia Mosque

It's around 12.12am and the bar, which I was desperately looking forward to, closed at midnight. Never mind. The Koutoubia is luxurious beyond what I'm used to. And very, very quiet. For the time being. It's a small hotel, two-stories on four sides around a central pool, and quite new, though it doesn't have the bland feel of a new hotel. Sensors turn on elaborate lamps as I walk along the otherwise dark corridor,. which is both creepy and exotic.

The view from the second floor is impressive, across the pool over the roof to the illuminated tower of the Mosque. Time to raid the minibar.

It's five in the morning when I discover a drawback to the hotel's location. A sepulchral, stentorian voice comes booming through my window. It could be the voice of God announcing the end of the world. Of course, it's the call to prayer from the minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque. I've heard this before in Tunisia, but never so amplified, so close and so damn terrifying. It's like it's directed straight into my room. And, yes, it's every morning. Makes church bells sound so wussy.

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