NYFF Review: Bardi Quietly, Observantly Guides Us Through a 400-Year-Old Ceremony

In 2021, the UNESCO World Heritage Center officially inscribed tbourida—a Moroccan equestrian military ritual dating back to the 16th century—onto its Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity list. This ritual is the central subject of Tala Hadid’s all-encompassing, multi-threaded documentary Bardi. The film follows not only the preparations of the riders, but also those of the horses, who play at least an equally stressful part. Tbourida adheres to customary Arab-Amazigh traditions where participants, ranging from adolescents to adults, perform a two-part ceremony. First is the hadda, an introductory trot and acrobatics drill; then comes the main attraction, the talqa, where participants ride side-by-side in a straight line while holding a Quran and a rifle, which is fired off in unison mid-ride.

Close-up camerawork throughout focuses on the rich, intricately embroidered garments of both riders and steeds, as well as the eyes of the main participants. What is immediately palpable is the intensity of the bond between humans and animals—a raw, difficult connection steeped in history. As one senior rider tells his young trainee, the horse “is an intelligent animal. It thinks you want to hurt it. Anyone who says animals are not intelligent is wrong.” Yet the relationship here feels pragmatic rather than purely emotional. We see riders cleaning hooves, washing coats, manes, and backsides; some offer intimate care, while others maintain a colder, functional distance. Frequent close-ups of the horses’ eyes aim to create an intimate atmosphere, but the movie largely maintains an observational distance, letting wordless images do the heavy lifting. I wasn’t a fan, however, of what appeared to be an autofocus feature jittering in and out during several sequences, which distracted from the majestic, historic allure of the subject.

Some viewers may find Bardi a bit sparse and meandering, but I found that to be its most appealing quality. When the camera candidly captures preparations, tensions, dances, food, songs, and laughter, it draws us deeply into the lived world of this tradition. Its weakest points occur when the film attempts to inject explicit narrative conflict. This happens twice: first when a young rider is diagnosed with a horse allergy, and second when a young girl argues with her father about letting women ride. While I understand why these moments were included, they feel incongruous in both staging and placement—almost as if they were edited in as an afterthought.

Much of the film’s charm comes from the camera feeling embedded in the action as it navigates crowded spaces and tracks the meticulous labor behind such an event. Mentors’ speeches to young riders preparing for their first tbourida set the stage for what is to come—the drills, practices, hard work, and anticipation carrying 400 years of history. We watch the slow arrival of spectators and the setup of tents, speakers, food tables, and garments. When the camera finally pulls back to reveal the riding itself, we get a full sense of scale. The climax is over in a flash—though met with great crowd delight—putting the staggering disparity between months of preparation and the fleeting event itself into sharp perspective.

In unveiling a ritual few outside Morocco likely know, Bardi serves as a transportive, illuminating look at a tradition older than many modern nations. That such a rite of passage continues to be passed down undisturbed—with undiminished enthusiasm and pride—is remarkable. Tala Hadid builds to the event with appropriate patience, eschewing heavy exposition to let us observe the intricate machinery of this tradition for ourselves.

Bardi premiered at the 64th New York Film Festival.