There has been one preoccupation amongst filmmakers in the Arab region; women’s issues. All Arab feature films screened at this year’s Cannes Film Festival centered on women’s solidarity and sisterhood. Palestinian director Rakan Mayasi presented a powerful film set in the Bekaa Valley near the Syrian border, whilst The Station by the Yemeni-Scottish director Sarah Isaac and Strawberries by the Moroccan director Laila Marrakchi were of a lower standard. Below is a review of the aforementioned films, as well as a selection of Arab short films, including Nafrun by Daoud Abdullah, filmed shortly after the fall of the Assad regime.
Yesterday the eye didn’t sleep- Rakan Mayasi
Rakan Mayasi’s debut film, screened in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ section, was more refined than expected. It was the work of a director who knows exactly what he wants and has aligned every element of the film as it should be. A poetic, visually captivating film, it tells the story of two sisters set against the backdrop of Bedouin life in the Bekaa Valley.
Rakan, a Palestinian director born in Germany and raised in Jordan, now living between Brussels and Beirut, drew inspiration for the film from the story of his grandmother, who was married off at the age of 14, and from Tomorrow Love Will Come, a short film he made in 2020.
In the film, Yasser, whilst searching for his relative Ghamra who is accused of setting fire to the car of a man she loves and of possibly fleeing to Syria, runs over a man from a neighbouring tribe. He is accused of murdering him deliberately over a land dispute, and his family’s arduous journey begins to avert a tribal blood feud, one whose start may be known, but whose end is not. His two sisters, Jawaher, a nurse, and Reem, a farm labourer, will be required to ‘offer’ themselves in marriage to the aggrieved clan, in an attempt to stop a tide of bloodshed. It is not a forced marriage, but a voluntary one; yet one of them will go through with it, heading towards a life of eternal misery.
The film is about the silent burial of women’s dreams, including their desire to marry men they chose, in a patriarchal society where they are offered as sacrifices to repair the damage caused by men. It is also a film about an incredibly strong sisterly bond, in which Reem and Jawaher compete to make sacrifices in defence of one another, in defence of their brother Yasser, and in defence of the family; a competition in which there are no winners. Whoever hesitates to make the sacrifice will spend the rest of their life wrestling with guilt.
Nevertheless, Al-Mayasi crafts a film with affection for this communal society. The film does not come across as overly critical or direct, refraining from blaming the male characters, adhering to the principle that ‘this is simply how things are in this part of the world’. The film also highlights the folkloric aspects, the simple daily lives of the inhabitants, the romantic relationships within the family, the family members’ attempts to look out for one another, and the breaking of certain customs, such as the prohibition on women carrying mobile phones.
The oppressive tension does not leave the screen after the aforementioned incident, even as we watch a stunning dance sequence at a wedding celebration that seems almost surreal, shown in slow motion and edited harmoniously to appear as a single, cohesive piece. This scene, which brought the Debussy Hall at the Festival Palace to a standstill, feels unsettling, evoking in the viewer a sense of joy tinged with sadness as they witness a woman’s dreams slowly crumbling, particularly with the lyrics of the background song, which are like a lament for buried love, never to return. Mayasi does not bring the story full circle in this film, nor does he seem concerned with providing an ending to a story that repeats itself every day; rather, he invites us to reflect alongside Reem, who runs aimlessly, whilst we, like her, search merely for a breath of fresh air.
The director opts for a square aspect ratio for his film, using it to showcase the mountainous landscape and vast fields before trapping his characters within them. As the film’s profile tells us, Miyasi trained under the directors Abbas Kiarostami and Béla Tarr, and his influence by their styles is evident in his penchant here for long takes, allowing us to observe the characters and experience the weight of the situation, whilst using a slow zoom as he changes the framing of his characters.
Mayasi does not resort to melodrama, and succeeds in eliciting authentic, restrained performances, not overwhelmed by emotion. The performance comes from non-professional actors and actresses, specifically members of the Al-Mawali family, who played their own real-life roles as revealed in the film’s credits and in press statements by the director. He explains how he found the family in the Bekaa and worked with its members to portray their real-life selves with some adjustments, initially without a script or set dialogue.
The Station - Sarah Ishaq
Sarah Ishaq, the Yemeni-Scottish director nominated for an Oscar for Best Documentary Short Film for Dignity Has No Walls, presented her first feature-length fiction film, The Station in the parallel ‘Critics’ Week’ section at the Cannes Film Festival, much like last year’s Berlinale opening feminist film, No Good Men by Afghan director Shahrbanu Sadat. The film’s completion seems almost miraculous, given that its producer, Nadia Aliwat, told us it took ten years to make.
Sarah describes her film as feminist and, to a large extent, straightforward, tackling important, universal themes such as the forced conscription of children during conflicts and the burden of women to keep civilian life going whilst the men fight on the front lines.
Sarah and her writing partner, the producer Nadia, set their story in a petrol station, which morphs into a safe space born of the imagination, where there are no weapons, no men, and no politics. Run by Layal, it is a space where women can take off their niqabs and talk about fashion, lingerie, and make-up, whilst the sounds of gunfire and aircraft drift into their ears, a reminder of the danger lurking nearby.
After a light-hearted, pleasant start to the story, there is a darker turn, as we learn that the women are not always aligned. The sheikh’s wife, Umm Abdullah, demands a huge sum of money from Layal in exchange for turning a blind eye to her young brother Laith’s failure to report for military service with the militias controlling the area. Layal is forced to reach out to her sister Shams, who lives in an area controlled by a rival militia, to ask for financial help. However, Shams turns up unexpectedly, accompanied by a large child named Ahmed, putting Laith in even greater danger.
The scriptwriters weave parallel narratives. The budding friendship between the two boys, Leith and Ahmed, who are coming of age in a militaristic society where children are pressured to become ‘men’ before their time; simultaneously, the strained relationship between the sisters Layal and Shams centres on how to protect Layth from the man responsible for the earlier death of their eldest brother, whilst a crippling fuel crisis looms on the horizon.
Despite the convincing structure of this family saga, the elicitation of sympathy for the characters, and the world the writers have skilfully crafted on paper, the design of the set, the petrol station, appears contrived and artificial. This prevents the audience from immersing themselves in this world. It is a constant reminder, right up until it disappears from the screen in the film’s final act, that we are looking at a film set, not a real world. From the kiosk to the furniture, and the dozens of children’s obituaries, victims of the war, densely plastered on the walls, and ending with the piece of cloth on which we are supposed to believe that ‘Shams’ has written ‘shroud’ in clear handwriting.
Whilst the difficult circumstances in Yemen and the fact that the filmmaker was forced to shoot in Jordan can excuse these elements of the film, the movie only really comes to life during the final escape sequence, in which we see the characters moving through a mountainous landscape. The bond of ‘sisterhood’ takes shape on the screen, as a means of salvaging whatever can be in a patriarchal society, where the loudest voice belongs to the gun and those who wield it. In a symbolic scene, Sarah also suggests that women in such a society have no alternative but to join forces in support of the hijab, through female solidarity.
Despite working with a cast of non-professional actors and actresses, Sarah succeeds here in eliciting good performances from them on screen.
Strawberries- Laila Marrakchi
Almost two decades after the screening of Marouk, her first feature-length fiction film in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ section, Moroccan director Leila Marrakchi returned to the same section at Cannes with another feminist film. Strawberries explores the financial, physical, and sexual exploitation of Moroccan female workers seeking a better life on strawberry farms in Huelva, southern Spain.
Hasna (played by Nisrin Erradi, a regular face at Cannes who most recently starred in Everyone Loves Toda, directed by Nabil Ayouch), a former taekwondo champion, submits her papers and accompanies other women, including Mariam, to Spain, dreaming of a day when they will earn up to 35 euros. Instead, she finds herself facing an employer who does not speak her language and forces her to work in inhumane conditions. She spends her days picking strawberries in polytunnels, in stifling heat, only to be paid a pittance at the end of each week, on the pretext that she is slow at work and lacks experience.
In her film, Marrakchi takes her time in depicting the living conditions of her characters and the relationships that develop between them. They share prefabricated rooms in a prison-like camp. A later scene suggests that Mariam has been sexually assaulted by one of her managers, but Hasna chooses to keep her job and leave her colleague to her fate, an extremely bold and dramatic decision on Marrakchi’s part, which leaves the viewer, who has identified with Hasna and her plight, feeling deeply uneasy.
This major event builds anticipation in the viewer, expecting a surge in the plot and an acceleration in pace. But instead, Marrakchi slows things down, perhaps a little too much, creating underlying tension between the characters and the film’s pacing, as if she were bringing the characters back to their everyday world before launching them off again. The discovery of the assault and the company directors’ refusal to provide the women more work prompts Hasna to lead a rebellion at the camp and bring Mariam’s case of exploitation to a human rights organisation, which ultimately leads to a court case. The women face false accusations that they are voluntarily engaged in prostitution, and must assert that they are human beings, individuals with diverse motivations, circumstances, and personalities.
Marrakchi risks repeatedly transforming the heroine of her film into an antagonist, perhaps suggesting that, contrary to common narratives, people do not rush to the aid of the oppressed, but are forced to weigh up consequences, such as defending a colleague or keeping a job to earn desperately needed money in a patriarchal society that offers no protection. She argues that, when faced with moral dilemmas, people often find themselves in grey areas before finally taking action and making a decision with far-reaching consequences.
The director presents a tale of capitalist exploitation, a form of modern, multi-layered slavery suffered by Moroccan women in Spain (and all southern European countries), with conditions incompatible with human dignity, whilst trade unions and law enforcement agencies fail to protect them. She demonstrates that the solution begins when one refuses to submit, at some point during the journey, joining in workers’ solidarity (sisterhood). Marrakchi’s efforts have succeeded in creating a realistic working environment, credible on screen, in which strawberries become a symbol of naivety and maturity, whilst actress Nisreen Erradi delivers yet another powerful leading performance.
Short Films
Nafron - Daood Alabdulaa
This was the only Syrian film screened at Cannes, in the parallel ‘Critics’ Week’ competition, by the German-based filmmaker.
Alabdulaa does not present a traditional narrative but rather captures the moment of the Assad regime’s collapse through an encounter between two characters, a woman suffering from amnesia (played by Salha Nasraoui) and a young woman searching for her missing brother (played by Nada Al-Abdullah).
Alabdulaa relies on wide shots that frame the massive destruction in Damascus, and a cemetery through which the two characters walk. He blends fiction with documentary in his film, with scenes showing the protagonist standing before a mural of the dictator Hafez al-Assad as it is being demolished, and another in front of a destroyed statue of Hafez, its head smashed to pieces, long after the fall of the regime when Alabdulaa was filming his movie.
Alabdulaa transforms this fleeting encounter into a spark of solidarity between the two broken women. We understand from the retrieval of new identity documents for the film’s heroine, who has lost her memory, that the filmmaker intends to present her as a symbol of Syria after the fall of the regime. With vacant stares, she stands in a daze, searching for a new identity and a sense of security; something that will not happen unless the girl from the coast stands in solidarity with a girl from another Syrian city, whom she need not necessarily know personally.
Nothing happens after your absence - Ibrahim Omar
In the parallel ‘Directors’ Week’ competition, this Sudanese film was screened. It raises a pressing cinematic issue for a country embroiled in civil war, which the filmmaker wraps in a light-hearted narrative.
When Sinifeli returns to his village, a place forgotten by the war between government forces and the Rapid Support Forces, or perhaps one that simply does not wish to be drawn into it, he attempts to revive the local film scene by organising screenings of films by directors he holds in high regard. He arranges a football tournament between teams named after the Palestinian Elia Suleiman, the Mauritanian Abdoulaye Cissoko, the Iranian Abbas Kiarostami, and the Senegalese Ousmane Sembène; however, the bureaucracy has other ideas.
Filmmaker Ibrahim Omar draws on the aforementioned directors in the making of this film, and succeeds in eliciting a bittersweet laugh from the audience.
In search of the grey bird with green stripes - Said Hamich Benlarbi
In the same competition, this Moroccan film (a relatively long one at 45 minutes) was screened in the short film section.
The filmmaker follows an eccentric character named Osama, who ‘lost’ his mind whilst in prolonged mourning for his late wife, claiming that he can help people locate underground water sources on their land.
Here, Saïd Hamich Benlarbi accompanies Osama on his fascinating journey of self-discovery, his bizarre attempts at healing, and his coming to terms with his wife’s absence, after he has lost his way back to a normal life, taking us into the worlds of religious figures.
Fiction and reality also blur here; Osama reveals on camera that he is not mad but rather exaggerates his actions to make the film better, casting doubt on the very point of making the film in the first place, a view with which some viewers may well agree.
