Film: The Wedding Song
Year of production: 2008
UK Release date: 16th May 2011
Distributor: Peccadillo
Certificate: 15
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Karin Albou
Starring: Lizzie Brocheré, Olympe Borval, Najib Oudghiri, Simon Abkarian, Karin Albou
Genre: Drama/War
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France/Tunisia
Language: Arabic/France
Review by: Kevin Ilett
French director Karin Albou’s debut feature, 2005’s Little Jerusalem, was a delicate exploration of a Jewish family living in Paris. She follows that with a historical drama entitled The Wedding Song. Set in Tunisia during WWII, and concentrating on the friendship of two girls, the film received a largely positive response upon a limited cinema release and is now being released on DVD by Peccadillo Pictures.
The Wedding Song tells the intimate story of the friendship of two 16-year-old girls in war-torn Tunis. Whilst both girls live in the poor district, cramped in small, crumbling flats full of family members, there is a strong and supportive community network of females portrayed here. The tensions of the war, however, strain the girls’ relationship, as Nour (Olympe Borval) is an Arab and Myriam (Lizze Brocheré) is Jewish.
This under-explored perspective of the war allows the girls’ tribulations to take on wider significance, and challenge traditional assumptions of historical and gender politics. Both girls are set to marry, and their situations are constantly mirrored and contrasted, in a clever exploration of religion and female companionship.
As the war tears their country into parts, so Albou’s characters are emotionally torn, loyalties are shifted and sacrifices are made…
Occupied by the Germans but under Allied bombing, Tunisia, like the female body, is powerless and intruded upon by foreign and patriarchal agents. The girls’ relationship reflects the Tunisian situation and the increasing rift between the Arab and Jewish communities, a motif which on paper sounds trite but in actuality is deftly wound by Albou into a tense and engaging drama. Nour and Myriam’s intensely close friendship borders on the sexual, an organic and humanistic bond which Albou sets up against the alien and loveless heterosexual pairings the girls are forced into.
Nour, at first, looks forward to her arranged Arab marriage with cousin Khaled, played with brooding ambiguity by Najib Oudghiri. He must first find work, but his eventual employer reflects the complex loyalties and political situation of war-torn Tunisia. The German occupiers, in promising the Tunisians independence from their French colonial rulers, expose and exploit concealed hostility and resentment toward the Jews. Collaborating with the Germans has traditionally been portrayed in WWII films as a cowardly, insidious act, but within this context of colonial oppression even the actions of the harshest characters obtain an involving justification.
As the film progresses, we realise that the girls, who at first appeared as equals, have entirely different societal pressures inflicted on them. Although also poor, Myriam and her mother have enjoyed privileges as Jews under the French that Nour and the Arabs could only dream of. Their positions subtly switch as the Germans court Arab support and instigate the liquidation of the Jews.
Unlike Nour, Myriam detests her fiancée, a wealthy older doctor named Raoul, played by Simon Abkarian. Raoul, like Khaled, attempts to wield male sexual control over his bride, and the girls’ stubbornness to relent to such pressure is the film’s central focus. There is a masterful, wrenching scene where Myriam is prepared, ‘oriental style’, for her wedding night. Every hair on her body is ripped away in graphic detail, and the resolutely feminine perspective here makes one feel every sting Myriam suffers. Male sexual desire for childlike female bodies is exposed by Albou’s tender direction as arrogant, unnatural and intrusive.
Whenever the film feels in danger of slipping into a simple Manichaeism of good and bad characters, or Khaled and Raoul are in danger of becoming detestable caricatures, Albou cleverly reminds us of her character’s complex motivations. For example, Khaled longs for independence for his people and Raoul hopes to protect the Jews. The film’s characters are well drawn and fully rounded, largely thanks to the admirably complex and mature approach to political context. North Africa in WWII is a topic which refutes simplistic solutions, and Albou’s characters embody these conflicts excellently.
Where Albou is on less sure footing is in an occasional over-reliance on neat symbolism and a slightly obvious mirroring motif between the girls. The use of a golden bracelet to display the ups and downs of their fortunes is a particularly unnecessary addition. What helps to keep such criticisms minor is the strength and believability of the central performances. Borval and Brocheré convey a simmering, fascinating intensity in the friendship which transcends Albou’s script. At times, they are rendered heartbreakingly vulnerable, their young naked bodies bravely and legitimately used to portray the rape of the nation. At other points they are strong, courageous, and independent. Brocheré is headstrong and proud; her beauty is almost an annoyance for her. Borval is naive and deeply conflicted. On one side lies her race and her nation, on the other lies a relationship whose loving intensity leaves one breathless.
Albou’s drama deftly balances the relationship between Nour and Myriam with the wider political context of war-time Tunisia. A setting rarely seen in WWII films, The Wedding Song provides a refreshingly different and admirably intelligent approach to the topic. Despite a few narrative missteps, national turmoil is here sensitively reflected in the demands on the female body, resulting in a challenging and forceful new reading of history. KI
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