A hole in the ceiling offers an escape from war - and patriarchy?
Daniel Nelson
Tender, humorous, innocent, fresh, romantic, touching - yes, Nezouh is another film on the conflict in Syria and the risk of taking dangerous escape routes to Europe.
And, yes, this one is a little different.
For a start, it’s by a Syrian migrant currently living in London.
Secondly, the director, Soudade Kaadan, is a woman.
Thirdly, the film is an unusual blend of family saga and war, with a touch of magical realism.
Its mixture of awful reality and soaring imagination reminds me of JoJo Rabbit, a tale of two youngsters, one of them Jewish, in Nazi Germany, played out amidst the most destructive manifestation of anti-semitism.
Nezouh is a story about a family with all the usual tensions and joys of husband-and-wife and parent-child relationships, and a 14-year-old girl’s coming of age.
They live in a flat in a battle-ruined part of Damascus. When a bomb crashes through the roof, their living space is open to the skies and to the last remaining neighbours in the bomb-damaged home across the street. Mother Hala and daughter Zeina are aghast at the destruction of their already difficult living conditions; traditional dad Mutaz is determined not to leave the home he has so manfully provided: his main concern is to hang up a sheet to prevent men on nearby rooftops from ogling Zeina. Little does he know that the damaged ceiling is a way for a teenage boy to enter Zeina’s life - and for her to glimpse a new one.
The characters’ differing reactions to the gaping hole in the ceiling drive the plot. To mum, it’s a last-chance warning to flee. To dad, it’s a repair-job challenge which he must take on to prove his worth as a man. To daughter, it’s a means to escape the confines and expectations of home life - and through which to take the first steps into adulthood.
The adventure seems to be heading towards freedom from war and want, and freedom to love and live differently, even at the cost of the traditional family. But in the end Kaadan’s respect for Syrian mores, and for humanity and forgiveness, leads her to a gentler compromise. Perhaps patriarchy can co-exist with the New Man.
Kaadan, who was born in France born in France and studied theatre at the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts in Syria and at Saint Joseph University in Lebanon, has said of the film and of her own experience: “It is only after the bombing started in our neighbourhood in Damascus that I left the house with my sister. Damascene society was conservative, even in liberal families.
“With the new wave of displacement, it became normal, for the first time, to see young Damascene women living alone and separating from their families. Myself, and many of my friends, started to make decisions we would never make before. Now, sadly, there is no more society, something new has occurred.”
But don’t write off this film off as earnestly preachy or didactic: it’s deftly made with a light touch, and is hugely warm and entertaining, showing that the people we see collectively as “refugees” are simply versions of ourselves.
+ Nezouh is screening at the ICA, The Mall in 1 May, at the Curzon Camden, ICA, The Castle from 3 May (+ 7 May Q&A); Ciné Lumière from 17 May (+ 21 May, Q&A with director Soudade Kaadan)