#45
The Source [1] is a newly released movie written and directed by Radu Mihaileanu. Set in a remote mountain village located anywhere between the Maghreb and Arabia, it was actually shot in Morocco
This aspect reminded Philip French (writing in The Observer) of Aristophanes’ play Lysistrata in which the women of ancient Greece
The Source has divided reviewers. Alissa Simon, writing in Variety, called it “An over-wrought fable…a difficult concoction to swallow…” She thought it “might seduce undiscriminating audiences” with its “kitschy song and dance numbers.” Donald Clarke, in the Irish Times, was even more scathing. He dismissed its “lumbering charms” and said it was “eye-wateringly patronising” with “a bogus quaintness.” By the end of his review he was all set to call in “the post-colonial thought police.” Perhaps the Irish Special Branch has just such an arm? Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they do… and I’m sure they would be a fine body of patriots – most fanatical in their pursuit of political correctness – and certifiable anal-obsessives to a man – nay, person.
Radu Mihaileanu claims that a ‘love strike’ actually happened in a tiny village in Turkey Morocco
Any film, released in 2011, depicting Muslim Arab women in conflict with male chauvinism was likely to invite hostility from somewhere. To have incurred the displeasure of both progressives and reactionaries is probably a worthwhile achievement in itself. The Source shows how the habitual selfishness of the men produces the conditions in which women can develop a collective solidarity. The women’s insurrection starts inside the communal bathhouse and gathers momentum when they gather at the stream to do the laundry. “Why should we have less say in our future than our men?” they ask. The Source is not a polemic and does not pretend to pronounce decisively upon events of ‘The Arab Spring’. But then neither is it entirely a localised story of relevance only to a handful of people living in a poor, remote, village…
There is a lot of vitality and humour in this film, frequently involving the prodigious ‘Mother’ Rifle. We see her using a mobile phone while riding a donkey along a high mountain track. As the donkey ambles along she loses her signal and blames this on the animal, threatening to sell it in the souk[2]. Mother Rifle’s account of her own life reminded me of Brecht’s Mother Courage. At the age of fourteen she had been forced to marry an elderly widower for whom she eventually bore nineteen children, although few survived infancy. When her husband died she stamped on his grave with delight.
Much of the film is shot in muted tones with strong shadows. Even in the daytime, interiors are dark and at night the characters depend on battery-operated torches strapped to their foreheads. Sunlight and colour are predominantly reserved for the women, especially when they sing and dance. The men are uniformly drab and seldom imaginative. Only Leila’s husband Sami shows any sensitivity to the women’s cause, telling her, “You have the right to fight. Go on love strike with love and respect.” But Sami’s empathy is pretty limited and sorely tested when the village men blame him for failing to control his own wife. Later, we find that he cannot deal with a contemporary’s disappointment at being failed by the school system and he reaches for a knife when Leila’s first love arrives in the village.
The use of ribald songs to comment on the action is an effective device, again reminiscent of Brecht. In one hilarious scene the women, all togged-out in traditional costume, perform a song and dance routine for the benefit of a paying party of European tourists. With no accurate translation offered by their acutely embarrassed tour-guide, the visitors remain oblivious to the subversion expressed in the lyrics of the women’s song.
The Source suggests that Islam should be finding ways to accept independent thought and action by women. The outsider, Soufiane[3], represents rational scientific enquiry and the possibility of a new Islamic Enlightenment. His role is kept ambiguous, and he frequently claims to be interested only in things that are infinitesimally small. Soufiane endeavours to remain detached from the reality of village life and it begins to look as if the local men will adopt the solution offered by the ‘fundamentalists’ – which is to disown the striking women and import a busload of ‘replacement’ wives. One of the lurking agitators is Mother Rifle’s adolescent son and she gives him exceedingly short shrift when he parrots his madrasah-instilled nonsense at her. She smartly boxes his ears and explains that women only needed to wear the veil in the past when slavery still existed. In those days, explains Le Vieux Fusil, ‘free’ women wore the veil to confirm they were not mere chattels, available to be bought and sold.
It’s not as if their religion and their chauvinism have endowed the men of the village with significantly better opportunities than those available to their wives. Most of the older men cannot read and a prolonged drought has stripped them of their traditional livelihoods as farmers. More recently, the complacency of corrupt bureaucrats has kept them economically backward by taking advantage of their political naivety. Some of the infrastructure has been provided to bring electricity to the village. The government has erected transmission poles and even gone so far as to fit door bells to the little houses. But there is no power: the phantom cables have never been connected to the grid.
It transpires that the men applied to the bureaucracy long ago for a piped water supply but their request has been gathering dust. One of the officials smugly advises Sami against pressing for their application to be given priority. “You know what happens then?” asks the official. “They all want washing machines!” Finally, the men have to accept the reality of their own powerlessness. When they want to prevent their wives from travelling to town to celebrate their strike publicly in song and dance, they are unable to take effective action themselves and resort to hiring Berber tribesmen from the desert. Armed men on horseback are paid to waylay the women on the road to town and keep them trapped in a cave until the day is over. When the women evade capture and arrive in the market place they are concealed beneath a length of embroidered fabric. They push through the crowd like a long writhing snake. When the women emerge, confident and joyful, to begin their demonstration, the men are so embarrassed that they can then only clap limply and shuffle their feet in the dust. Perhaps they should take to wearing the veil to hide from their shame?
Knowing that the Arab Spring began first in Tunisia
[1] The Source (2011) (aka ‘La Source des Femmes’) Written & directed by Radu Mihaileanu with Leila Bekhti as Leila, Saleh Bakri as her husband, Sami, Hiam Abass as Fatima, her mother-in-law, and Hafsia Herzi as Loubna Esmeralda, her sister-in-law. The Algerian singer, dancer & actor Biyouna plays Mother Rifle (Le Vieux Fusil).
[2] Google will find the trailer for The Source on youtube.
[3] Soufiane (played by Malek Akhmiss) was Leila’s first love. He is a journalist on a national paper but claims to be only visiting the village to study the effect of the drought on the insect population.
