The
legal age for marriage in the United Kingdom is a reasonable eighteen, but it
is allowed for those as young as sixteen, provided there is parental consent. Apparently,
that consent is easily granted within the Islamic “South Asian” enclaves in
cities like Bradford. That is something an Irish-Anglo chauffeur probably never
considered very much, until he takes a protective interest in his late boss’s Pakistani
mistress, who finds herself at odds with the misogyny of her family and community
in Mitu Misra’s Lies We Tell (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.
Demi
Lamprose always told his chauffeur Donald, the only cheating husbands who get
caught are the ones that do not love their wives enough to sufficiently cover their
tracks. Presumably, he also thought enough about Amber to want to shield her
from the shame such an affair would cause her Muslim family. It falls on the
loyal driver to clean out the love nest, where he has the unfortunate duty of
breaking the bad news to Amber. It is an awkward meeting that get even more
awkward due to an unlikely chain of circumstances. However, when Amber reaches
out, asking Donald to take care of some revealing photos on Lamprose’s phone,
trust starts to develop between the two.
Donald
and the viewers soon learn Amber is already a half-pariah in her community,
despite her education and legal career, because she divorced KD, a rising Bradford
gangster she was forced to marry when she was sixteen. She certainly had her
reasons. However, in an act of sadistic parity, KD is now determined to marry
her freshly sixteen-year-old sister Miriam—and her parents are only too happy
to consent.
LWT is a scrupulously
realistic film, which is terrifying. There is no way to sugarcoat the truth of
the matter. Misra is depicting customs and behavior that is flat out misogynistic
and essentially tribal in nature. Lest viewers have a kneejerk reaction, it should
be noted Misra grew up in Bradford’s immigrant communities, but as a successful
entrepreneur-turned filmmaker, he developed a wider perspective.
Granted,
there are some first-time filmmaker mistakes to be found here. For instance,
there is a pretentious bit of business at the end that is sure to elicit laughs
at exactly the wrong time. However, the whole of this film is far more
important than a few scattered parts like that. Indeed, some of the dialogue
rings with significance, as when Amber’s mother accusingly asks why she always
judges the family by British standards. We can see she wants to reply: because
we are British and live in England, but she obviously knows that would be a
mistake.
Sibylla
Deen is terrific as Amber. It is a tough role, because sometimes the character
is selfish and unlikable, but Deen really gets at her underlying
vulnerabilities and makes her human. Gabriel Byrne reliably anchors the film as
Donald, really lowering the boom in key moments. Having Harvey Keitel so prominent
on the posters is somewhat deceptive, since Lamprose dies after the first five
or ten minutes, but he is fine during the time. Jan Uddin’s KD is certainly a fierce
villain, but Manzar Sehbai gives the film heft and complicated dimension with his
powerful performance as Amber’s cowardly father, Zulfikar.
