A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Hafsia Herzi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hafsia Herzi. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 9, 2026

The Little Sister (Hafsia Herzi, 2025)

Rita Benmannana, Melissa Guers, and Nadia Melliti in The Little Sister

Cast: Nadia Melliti, Park Ji-min, Amina Ben Mohamed, Melissa Guers, Rita Benmannana, Rizzak Ridha, Louis Memmi, Waniss Chaouki, Anouar Kardellas, Joven Etienne, Madi Dembele, Mahamadou Sacko. Screenplay: Hafsia Herzi, based on a novel by Fatima Daas. Cinematography: Jérémie Attard. Production design: Dièné Béreté. Film editing: Géraldine Mangenot. Music: Amine Bouhafa. 

In The Little Sister Hafsia Herzi succeeds in taking an almost too familiar coming-of-age story and giving it freshness and universality. Seventeen-year-old Fatima (Nadia Melliiti) is athletic and likes to hang out with the boys more than the girls, but she has a boyfriend who wants to get married as soon as she finishes school. She's afraid of breaking with her traditional French-Algerian family if she acknowledges that she's sexually more attracted to women than to men. She explores lesbianism furtively by hiring a prostitute to educate her on what women do sexually with other women. She's also asthmatic, and during a treatment she strikes sparks with a nurse, Ji-Na (Park Ji-min), and they begin an affair. When she starts university, she finds a thriving gay community and joins it, a little warily, still fearing that she'll be exposed to her family. A breakup with Ji-Na sends her into a tailspin, and she seeks help from an imam at a mosque, but he gives her the conservative religious line about her sexuality that a rabbi might give a Jew, a priest might give a Catholic, or a minister might give a Protestant. In the end, she is left to find a way of being herself rather than what her family, her society, or her religion say she should be. The film gets much of its strength from its cast, some of whom are non-professional actors, and from an insightful screenplay based on the autobiographical novel by Fatima Daas. The Little Sister tells us nothing new, but like the best old stories, it's anchored deeply in the truth about humanity and sexuality.    

Friday, June 19, 2020

The Secret of the Grain (Abdellatif Kechiche, 2007)

Hafsia Herzi and Habib Boufares in The Secret of the Grain
Cast: Habib Boufares, Hafsia Herzi, Farida Benkhetache, Abdelhamid Aktouche, Alice Houri, Bouraouïa Marzouk, Cyril Favre, Leila D'Issernio, Abelkader Djeloulli, Bruno Lochet, Olivier Loustau, Sami Zitouni, Sabrina Ouazani, Mohamed Benabdeslem. Screenplay: Abdellatif Kechiche, Ghalia Lacroix. Cinematography: Lubomir Bakchev. Production design: Benoît Barouh. Film editing: Ghalia Lacroix, Camille Toubis.

With its unsparing closeups and its two great extended sequences, the family dinner and the restaurant tryout, The Secret of the Grain is obviously designed to be an immersive film.  Sometimes it calls to mind the Italian neo-realists with its focus on ordinary people and their doggedness in the face of social circumstance, but it's "realer" than those films, with an improvisatory quality in its best scenes that evokes the films of Mike Leigh. Best of all, it plunks you right in the middle of a culture, that of North African immigrants living in France, and lets you find your footing in it. The focus of the film is Slimane (Habib Boufares), a 60-something worker in the shipyards of Sète, a small Mediterranean port city explored more than half a century ago by Agnès Varda in La Point Courte (1955). (In that film the exploration was done by outsiders, a Parisian couple. In this case, the city is seen from the point of view of residents with one foot in their original Arab culture, the other in the adopted culture of France -- people who are both insiders and outsiders.) Slimane is being laid off as the film begins, but he doesn't relish the prospect of retirement. Instead, he wants to open a restaurant on an old ship he has acquired. He's aided in this plan by Rym (Hafsia Herzi), the young daughter of his mistress, who owns the hotel where Slimane lives. Rym helps him put together a prospectus that they present to a skeptical but intrigued bank loan officer. Complications are inevitable because Slimane wants the restaurant to feature couscous and fish as prepared by his ex-wife, Souad (Bouraouïa Marzouk). And so we're drawn into the lives of Slimane's doubly extended family, whom we meet at a dinner in Souad's home. The Franco-Arab mixture is enriched by a touch of Russian: Souad and Slimane's daughter-in-law, Julia (Alice Houri), married to the philandering Majid (Sami Zitouni). These and other characters get introduced to us in various ways, but primarily at the raucous, noisy family dinner. Eventually, Slimane decides that the only way around the bank's reluctance and the bureaucracy's red-tape about permits, is to stage a party on the ship and invite bankers, bureaucrats, and potential investors and to serve them Souad's couscous and fish. Abdellatif Kechiche is a master at working out all the complicated relationships of family and town, and at setting up the eventual roadblocks that constitute the plot, but he also lets his actors carry the emotional burden of the story, which they do superbly. I have to admit that The Secret of the Grain sometimes feels like a party you want to leave but can't. That's partly because of its 151-minute run time -- I felt like it could lose half an hour without diminishing its immersiveness, the suspense of the last section of the film, and its overall tragicomic effect. But I would hate to be the one who had to decide which of its often astonishing scenes to cut.