In his first feature film, Egyptian director Omar El Zohairy traces the emancipatory journey of a mother after the disappearance of her husband, who disappeared from a magic trick where he was turned into a chicken. Halfway between fable and naturalism, Plums has been welcomed vehemently in some countries of the Middle East because of the grim portrait that he is brushing of a society widely trusted by men. The young director was thus the subject of a criminal complaint against« insult to Egypt and Egyptians. » (it doesn't make up) Is the point as acerbic as these reactionary critics suggest?
Poetry by the absurd
OMar El Zohairy chose non-professional actors for his first film while leaving room for improvisation. He wanted people to « stay even when they play » did he entrust to Telerama, so much so that during the filming, he did not « no scenario provided ». « I just told them the story and presented the technical aspects » He goes on to explain his work. This process, which is often used in contemporary theatre companies, is a major part of the film's staggered atmosphere, both sensitive and funny, moving and pudic.
The director almost claims an artistic method « anti-cinema ». He is also willing to accept some of the errors that are indispensable to the emergence of absurdity. An approach that is felt on the screen especially when two children are planted in the middle of the frame and dance with a few embarrassed looks to the cameraman. A wandering that has its charm but also knows how to breath in the long term, as if each interpretation was simultaneously a missed act.
« In many sequences, actors make mistakes, like looking at the camera for example, but I deliberately incorporated these moments into the editing. I wanted raw and spontaneous matter to strengthen the absurd side and create other links. »
Rather than prefer dynamic views, the director sews behind the camera with very successful static planes that confine to photography. The decor is planted as it is, without fireworks, like a window on privacy. A precarious apartment, a simple bed frame, a small cathodic TV that gives the tempo and thanks to which the children escape between two cartoons. This approach to the home is part of the film's unique character.
There is this magnificent image of the omnipresent factory, which even gains our intimate space. Just leave the window open so that a black smoke infiltrates the apartment. Plums brings to light with elegance the industrial society and the working life of Egypt as Zola did in Germinal. The comparison takes on its full meaning while the title of the novel refers to the revival of new forces, the beginning of spring in the revolutionary calendar. An image that fits perfectly with Plums While the mother's character becomes an actor of his own revolution.
Representing the Invisible
In Plums, no one seems carried by desire anymore. The distance between these characters is such that the gestures of love, if not affection, seem long gone. The husband pays no attention to his wife, even if he wants her son's birthday to be an event. The mother gives the bottle to the last born by pure automatism. A fountain sits as the only decoration in the middle of the living room. The thin jet of water splashes the ground, to better reveal the absurd of the situation. « It gives class at home and at the same time it's chic » hammers the agitated father, as if to make forget their misery and their condition exploited in a self-persuasion exercise.
Once the guests arrive, children dance clumsyly in the foreground and everyone applauds quietly in front of a duo of magicians invited to play a number. Nobody really seems to know each other but whatever. The father enters the trunk, disappears as required exercise but when the two illusionists reopen the trunk under a thunderous applause, patatra, here he is replaced by a chicken! This opening scene is a frank success while doubt settles in the unbelieving gaze of the guests. Was the father really turned into a chicken?
From this unlikely event to the end of the film, everything seems to escape the mother. No manifestation of sadness or hatred, no escape seems condemned. « Something's wrong, it's surreal! » Let go of her! Dialogues are episodic or even epiphenomena. The choice of an achievement brought about by the absence of movement fits perfectly with the logic of this woman tetanized by decision-making in the face of events (and men) that crush her. Paradoxically, never does the realization adopt a miserabilistic angle, even when the hen wanders on the matrimonial bed, now defiled by the animal's dejections.
On my lips
Initially, Plums In spite of him, he seems to road movie – hope less – while actress Demyana Nassar went in search of the magicians on the run and multiplied the marabout rituals to recover her husband. Omar El Zohairy alternates life scenes that marry the mother's journey. Without her spouse, the bills accumulate, but she cannot work in the factory, a place exclusively reserved for men. She alternates small jobs and vain attempts to recognize her bastard status, at the crossroads of the widow and the abandoned woman, soon resigned to have her young boy work. An administrative situation at the crossroads of Kafka and Brazil of the Terry Gilliam.
While Omar El Zohairy often defends himself during interviews for sketching a bitter portrait of patriarchy, it is difficult not to see a critical outline of a society that leaves little room for women. In some aspects, however, salvation sometimes seems to be within reach as suggested by the outcome. It is curious that the director renounces a political reading of his own film, while throughout PlumsThe mother is almost exclusively surrounded by men and her destiny will long be taken hostage by them. Even when man is absent, his burden is felt heavily, like the phantom pain of the crippled.
A missed (political) act?
If the absurd that roots throughout the film is its trademark, it unfortunately penalizes narration by habituation. The events are going on at a slightly disheartened pace, forgetting his characters. The contemplation takes precedence over the rebounds and the rhythm is at a time of bank.
« J’aime avoir recours à l’imprévu et injecter de l’humour ou de la violence là où on ne les attend pas, pour forcer la réflexion et ouvrir davantage le cœur et l’esprit du spectateur. »
Il y a par exemple ce chauffeur de taxi qui vient en aide à la mère de famille avant de lui déclarer sa flamme en chantant une chanson d’amour. Il ouvre la portière, s’éloigne pour aller uriner pendant que la mère reste plantée dans la voiture. Une scène volontiers caustique, mais qui laisse perplexe. Une chose est sûre, Plums sait prendre au dépourvu son spectateur, quitte à parfois laissé une sensation d’inachevé. La spontanéité des scènes donne des épiphanies de cinéma tantôt maladroites, tantôt touchantes.
Cette représentation brute peut ainsi sembler vide de sens par moments, oubliant que la poésie n’est jamais aussi réussie que quand elle porte en elle les tourments de l’âme. Plums n’aurait-il pas gagné à mieux choisir son parti pris pour laisser de l’espace à sa narration ? On a l’impression que le réalisateur ne sait pas toujours où il embarque ses propres personnages. C’est d’ailleurs ce qui ressort des interviews, alors qu’il défend une idée de départ qu’il aurait laissé germé de manière autonome lors du tournage. Ce côté expérimental est à double tranchant.
Le bateau ivre
Plumes est-il pris à son propre jeu ? Les non-évènements s’enchainent au détriment de personnages anonymes finalement ramenés au rang de simples figurants interchangeables. Certes, Plums sait représenter la pesanteur avec une légèreté toute singulière, notamment grâce à sa photographie aux tons sépia. Pour autant, ces portraits auraient sans doute gagné à être davantage incarnés. Même l’héroïne reste mutique la majeure partie du film. Il est peut-être dommage de ne pas avoir donné davantage la parole à ce personnage, réduit à sa seule existence. Elle subit pourtant une métamorphose autrement plus aboutie que celle de son mari, transformé en volaille malgré lui.
« La poésie, elle, est une sorte de troisième œil qui permet de voir ce qui se trouve juste un peu plus loin que la réalité. »
Pour un premier long métrage, Omar El Zohairy souffle donc le chaud et le froid, alors qu’on attendait un déroulement peut-être plus audacieux et moins formel, à l’image de l’ouverture du film. Plums reste une curiosité sensible avec quelques fulgurances visuelles qui valent le détour, même si le propos peut sembler un peu vain ou arrêté à mi-chemin, alors que les récentes flambées révolutionnaires en Iran donnent du grain à moudre quant à la condition féminine subie dans bien des sociétés du Moyen-Orient. Plums est une belle photographie mais qui se prive de perspective totalement engagée en faisant fi de toute radicalité sur le fond. Un angle mort pour la lutte féministe autant qu’un objet différent, qui met en lumière ces invisibles du quotidien. Pour un premier long-métrage, c’est déjà beaucoup ! Le film a d’ailleurs reçu le Grand Prix de la semaine de la Critique à Cannes. Pas sûr qu’il trouve le même accueil dans son pays natal.
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