Dachra: Tunisia’s First Horror Movie

In North Africa, they take witchcraft seriously—like Salem serious. That is how Tunisia’s (believed to be) first horror movie halfway credibly carries the Amityville-style “based on a true story” tag line. Aspiring journalism grad students like Jassmine are more interested in the Jasmine Revolution, but true to journalistic group think, their reports are so similar, their crusty old French prof has banned it as a topic for their final project. Instead, Jassmine and her two bickering colleagues venture into a remote country hamlet hoping to find an original true crime story in Abdelhamid Bouchnak’s Dachra, which opens tomorrow in physical and virtual theaters.

Jassmine is probably more talented than her obnoxious cameraman Bilel and sound guy Walid, but she works with them anyway. She should be listening more to Bechir, the devout grandfather who raised her. He is concerned she still has nightmares of a malevolent “Woman in Black,” but of course, she just blows off his concerns. Instead, she agrees with their half-baked plan to score an interview with a suspected witch who has been secretly committed to an insane asylum.

The interview is rather awkward, but it leads them to a strange tucked-away village (or Dachra) where strange things seem to be afoot. The women are suspiciously quiet, but the talkative Saber is maybe a little welcoming. Whatever is going on, it just might involve Jassmine personally.

Dachra incorporates plenty of established genre tropes, including elements of supernatural, cult, and folk horror. The good news is it teases us with the (dubious) promise of found footage too, but instead it presents itself as a professional film. Bouchnak’s cafeteria-style approach actually works pretty well. The backdrop of widespread superstition and traditional Islam gives the film a sense of absolute conviction, like Catholic possession films in the tradition of The Exorcist. Witchcraft is utterly real in Dachra and it is profoundly dangerous.

Beauty and the Dogs: Tunisia, Post-Jasmine

There was a revolution in Tunisia, but it only toppled a regime, leaving oppressive ideologies and prejudices intact. In fact, secular Tunisians have grown alarmed at the growing influence of Islamists following the Jasmine Revolution. The notorious case of the woman known as “Meriem” is a horrifying case in point. For her first narrative feature, Kaouther Ben Hania fictionalizes some of the details of the compounded crime, but she remains tragically true to real life throughout Beauty and the Dogs (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Mariam Chaouch is pretty and social, but not political. She is not the sort who is inclined to make trouble. The two Tunisian police officers who raped her probably picked up on her innocence. Yet, the college student from the country has the naïve notion that she should get for the crimes she suffered. Youssef will support her search for justice, sometimes perhaps with a bit too much reformist zeal. He was an activist during the Jasmine protests, who was getting extortion money for a third corrupt copper at the time of Chaouch's attack. He still witnessed plenty.

With him by her side, Chaouch tries to make reports at various hospitals and police stations, but everyone, men and women alike, callously refers her back to the neighbor precinct where her rapists are stationed, to file the bureaucratically mandated complaint. She can hardly believe it herself when she does exactly that. At that point, their lives are very much in danger. It is worth noting there is at least one good cop in the station, perhaps, but he is vastly outnumbered.

A long night deserves long takes—nine of them to be exact, one for each of the films chapters. Thanks to digital technology, this is easier to do than in the days of Hitchcock’s Rope, but it is still a gutsy call. Yet, it works quite well in this case. Frankly, Ben Hania is not flashy about it, but she uses the tight, hand-held camera work to build a sense of uncomfortable confinement. It also might have been a bit of method aid for the ensemble to crank up the tension.

Clearly, Mariam Al Ferjani needed no such help, because her screen debut as Chaouch is a jaw-dropping tour de force. Even though Ben Haria keeps the actual violence off-screen you feel it very directly through her pain and confusion. Arguably, Ghanem Zrelli is the weak link, who often looks like he is just there as Youssef to help facilitate the business on screen. However, Noomen Hamda is quietly and rather profoundly compelling as Chedli, a veteran detective appalled by his colleagues’ criminal behavior, but whose conscience and courage is maybe not yet at a tipping point. That is a tricky place to play a character, but he pulls it off remarkably well.

To her credit, Ben Hania never waters down the extent to which Islamist misogyny contributes to Chaouch's plight. In one telling scene, a particularly ruthless cop makes a point of discussing with Youssef the absence of Joseph of Nazareth from the Quran. The implications of that, coming in a police interrogation room, are pretty chilling. Ben Hania’s previous hybrid-doc The Challat of Tunis had some interesting elements, but Beauty represents a whole new level of cinematic accomplishment. Very highly recommended, especially for anyone who wants to understand the post-Jasmine world, Beauty and the Dogs opens this Friday (3/23) in Los Angeles, at the Landmark Nuart.

SR ’15: The Challat of Tunis

There is plenty of mock in Kaouther Ben Hania’s hybrid-doc, but the attitudes it depicts are embarrassingly real. In 2003, an unknown assailant drove through the streets of Tunis, slashing the buttocks of women who were not sufficiently “modest” in their dress. One Arab Spring revolution later, the so-called Challat is still regarded as a cult hero by a significant number of Tunisians—all male and Muslim, of course. Ben Hania set out to find the slasher in a traditional documentary, but official road blocks forced her instead to make a true-in-spirit examination of the Tunisian national character in The Challat of Tunis (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 Socially Relevant Film Festival.

At least eleven women were attacked by the Challat. The “at least” caveat is important, because the Tunis police do not exactly encourage reports of sexual violence. If you suspect they might blame the victim, you don’t know the half of it, but Ben Hania saves their real life testimony for the final act. Most of the narrative is devoted to her semi-fictional pseudo-Michael Moore style search for the unpunished perpetrator. Circumstantial evidence points to an unemployed misogynist named Jalel Dridi, who adamantly takes credit for the slashings. Initially, he is quite convincing, but Ben Halia eventually starts to doubt some of the details of his story.

Let’s not sugarcoat it. There is something deeply pathological about a society in which people want to be known as violent criminals who prey on women. Dridi may might a fraud or an actor in a put-up job, but there are plenty of men-in-the-street responses to him that speak volumes about Arab Muslim attitudes towards women. For instance, one imam endorses his Challat video game, because it grants points for slashing disrespectfully dressed women, while deducting from players’ scores if the assault women in suitably oppressive garb.

Some of the comic bits are better developed than others, but they all reflect highly problematic social iniquities and double standards. Ben Halia even shows an aptitude for broad Apatow style comedy when Dridi buys a “Virgin-o-meter” to test his unlikely new girlfriend. However, the film really knocks the wind out of the audience when Ben Halia dispenses with her hype-real narrative to interview two of the Challat’s extraordinarily brave victims on camera. Their stories of lingering physical and emotional pain, as well as the humiliation they experienced at the hands of the police, make the blood run cold.

There are a wealth of telling moments to be found in Ben Halia’s street interviews, such the unusually candid coffee house patron who initially argues Muslim prejudices for the attacks, but walks it back as an “Arab” thing when his cronies object. Clearly, nobody (no man) in Tunisia wants to forthrightly deal with Challat attacks and the lasting cultural effects, which is why Ben Halia’s film is such a bold poke in the eye. It has some odd moments, but there is always method to her madness. Strongly recommended, The Challat of Tunis is by far the feature highlight of this year’s SRFF when it screens this Thursday (3/19) at the Tribeca Cinemas.

ADIFF ’11: Buried Secrets

Consider this is Upstairs, Downstairs in its darkest manifestation. In a secluded Tunisian mansion, Aïcha is squatting in the basement servants’ quarters with her domineering mother and world-weary older sister. It is not much of a life, but at least it is quiet, until the original owner’s grandson arrives with his lover. The inadvertent intrusion of differing values and lifestyles profoundly disrupts their dysfunctional family unit in Raja Amari’s Buried Secrets (trailer here), the gala selection of this year’s African Diaspora International Film Festival.

Largely uneducated but devout, Aïcha’s family barely earns a subsistence living through embroidery work. At least their cloistered existence allows Radia and her mother to keep Aïcha on a short lead. They clearly consider her somewhat off, but it is initially unclear whether she really is a tad slow or has simply never had any outside social interaction. When Ali and his girlfriend Selma arrive, she is magnetically attracted to their fashionable clothes and open affection. Needless to say, her mother considers the “interlopers” indecent, but since they have no right to be there, the three women can only surreptitiously cower in the cellar. Inevitably, Selma discovers their presence in the crumbling manse, prompting the older women to take a rash course of action.

Ironically, the downstairs goings-on are considerably more scandalous than anything happening upstairs in Buried. Though viewers might guess at some of Aïcha’s family secrets, their revelation takes the women to some pretty shocking places. Amari clearly suggests the mother’s ultra-traditional Islamic upbringing has a stunting effect on Aïcha’s sexual maturity, but this is not a reassuring tale of female empowerment. What starts as a class-conscious social issue film morphs into a dark fairy tale, before finally settling into a psychodrama. Yet, somehow Amari maintains a consistent mood while keeping the audience off-balance.

The grand old home is wonderfully cinematic (sort of like a Tunisian Grey Gardens), anchoring the film in a specific strange and isolated place. However, it is Hafsia Herzi’s remarkable performance as Aïcha that makes it all come together. Simultaneously vulnerable and unnerving, it is impossible to take your eyes off her. Arguably though, Rim El Benna’s work is even braver, portraying Selma as a sympathetic, emotionally complex modern woman. Her more revealing scenes also likely generated the predictable disapprobation from Tunisia’s intolerant religious quarters.

Intriguing in many respects, Buried creates an eerie vibe of life in a state of twilight-limbo, implying rather than showing the great repercussions of its accidental clash of cultures. Fittingly, it is another challenging cinematic statement handled by Fortissimo Films, the focus of a recent retrospective at MoMA. Definitely recommended, it screens as part of the ADIFF gala this coming Sunday (12/4) with a regular festival screening to follow a week later (12/11).