North African Cinema: Tendencies and Perspectives

The
North African cinema adopts the original configuration of the Maghreb
("Land of the setting Sun" according to Arabic etymology). If this
definition invokes five countries in the political sense (Mauritania,
Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Libya), then in the sense of cinema we
really only find a group of three (Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia).
These are three countries which, since their independence, have had a
relationship with cinema marked by breaks and continuity. Since the
sixties and seventies, like a swing, each of these three countries has
occupied the position of leader in its turn. If global opinion says
today that Algerian cinema is making a comeback (four or five feature
films each year for the past several years) after a difficult period,
that Tunisian cinema is holding its own (Five or six films per year),
and that Moroccan cinema is seeing a great flowering (twelve to
fourteen films per year), then this is the result of a real game of
alternation.

Morocco,
which until recently was the poor relative of North African cinema,
finds itself described by its neighbours as a real emerging
cinematographic power, whose workings, particularly as far as support
and assistance for cinema are concerned, is being studied and put forth
as a model. A film critic wrote the following about this in issue 11 of
the magazine CinémAction, dedicated to North African cinema: "Of the
three countries of North Africa, Morocco is actually the one producing
the most. New talent is blooming there. In view of what was happening
twenty or even ten years ago, the situation has been reversed." This is
an unprecedented turning point. Film enthusiasts remember that North
African cinema in the 60's and 70's was primarily an Algerian affair.
Algiers, with its dynamic Cinémathèque, its national production that
worked marvellously, was like the Mecca of third-world cinema, i.e., of
the all the new cinema, which sought to impose a new vision and a new
manner of carrying it out. A week of Algerian cinema organised in Rabat
at the beginning of the 70's did more than seduce. The Charcoal Maker
(El Faham, 1973) by Bouaâmari was a veritable revelation for young
Moroccan moviegoers. It was the concretisation of this alternative
cinema, which reached its highpoint with awarded price to Mohamed
Lakhdar Hamina in 1975 for his Chronicle of the Years of Fire.
Cinema supported by the public sector, but in fact by a bureaucracy,
ended up revealing its limitations and announcing its failure,
following the example of the system that saw its birth. It was thus up
to Tunisian cinema to take the baton for most of the 80's until the
beginning of the 90's. Admiring voices made themselves heard in
Morocco, obsessed with the success of this cinema, especially in the
international arena. Halafouine was a big hit in Casablanca. Nouri
Bouzid thrilled young participants of the Festival of African Cinema of
Khouribga where his film Sabots d'or took the top prize. In a word, we
swore only by Tunisia, but not for long.

In
October of 2000, during in Carthage festival and at round tables
organised on its fringes, many Tunisian professionals gushed with
praise regarding Moroccan cinema, praising its system of assistance in
particular. In the meantime, and after the international success
amassed by Tunisian cinema, Moroccan cinema had succeeded at a double
challenge-to maintain a regular rhythm (if not growth in terms of
shoots and production) and moreover to manage to conquer its own public
for the first time. The 90s were marked primarily by a regular
progression of production and especially by the coming together of
Moroccan cinema and its public. Two films were to open this path to
success: a socio-psychological drama by Abdelkader Lagtaâ that shatters
an urban family,1991, and a comedy of manners Looking for my Wife's Husband , 1993, by Mohamed Abderahmane Tazi.

Over
the decade, fifty films would be produced, with a record of ten
produced in 1999. The growing interest in cinema would be confirmed by
the films of Jilali Ferhati, particularly The Beach of Lost Children,
1991, and the massive influx of a new generation of filmmakers who,
having shone brightly in short films, signalled the emergence of a new
cinematographic wave with a real cultural and aesthetic project. It was
Nabil Ayouch who initiated this "new wave" with his first feature film Mektoub (1997), and especially Ali Zoua: Prince of the Streets,
1999, which set a new box office record nationally and was a huge
international success. Another young filmmaker, Faouzi Bensaïdi, whose
first short work The Cliff, 1998, created a sensation,
gathering prizes at all the festivals, would soon join him. His promise
was confirmed by his first feature film A Thousand Months,
2003. These two filmmakers find themselves at the heart of a dynamic
that is found everywhere in cinema today. In terms of production, the
rhythm would be maintained and even accelerated.

Between
2003 and 2004, more than forty films were produced, thus maintaining an
average of ten films per year. This was an entirely new situation -
Morocco was the first Arab and African country (besides South Africa)
to see such a rate of production. Egyptian leadership has been put in
question for the first time. This is a new historical order which has
signalled a greater visibility for Moroccan cinema in Egypt since many
Moroccan films are arriving at the top of the box office: She is diabetic, hyperstressed and don't wish to die (2000), a comedy by Hakim Noury, Casablanca by Night (2003), a social chronicle by Mostafa Derkaoui, and The Bandits
(2003), a comedy by Saïd Naciri. International visibility is also
increasing because these films are being seen more and more at
international showings. In 2003, In Casablanca the Angels don't fly, won the Tanit d'Or of the Carthage Film festival (Tunisia), one of the most prestigious African festivals. The Sleeping Child, 2004 by Yasmine Kessari won more than thirty prizes in 2005. Tarfaya
(2005) by Daoud Oulad Sayed won the Grand Award of the International
Independent Film festival in Brussels and The Broken Wings
(Les ailes brisées) by Majid Rchich, a melodrama about missing children
won the Award for best Arab film at the International Film Festival of
Damascus, Syria.

The
success of Moroccan cinema is perceived by numerous North African
observers, particularly Tunisian, as the result of two decisive
factors: first, the existence of public sector willingness to promote
cinema, e.g. the national film funds and secondly, thematic content
firmly rooted in the Moroccan viewers' line of sight that I would
qualify as a "scenario of proximity". More generally, one could say
that it is a cinema that is also characterised by diversity on several
levels. In terms of generations, for example, we have pioneers who
continue to make films (Ferhati, Lagtaâ, Tazi, Noury.), but also
numerous young people from the Moroccan diaspora (Europe, the US):
Ismail Farraoukhi, Hassan Lagzouli, Yasmine Kessari, Hakim Belabbès,
Leila Marakchi. It is the latter that are breathing new life into a
cinema doped up on public aid for production, which is voluntarist and
persevering. It is also a cinema with diverse thematics, even if
certain recurring subjects are in fashion for a certain length of time.
For example, over the past two years, Moroccan cinema reinforces the
task of memory which is very present in the social fabric in putting
out films about what is conventionally called the 'lead years', that is
years marked by political repression. Films like the dark room by Hassan Benjelloun, Jawhara by Saad Chraïbi, and detention memory
by Jilali Ferhati broach this dimension of the collective imagination
of Moroccan society head on. On this topic, and at the risk of forcing
the issue, one could say that Algerian cinema has also been a
fundamental influence in the dominant dramatic impulse that is
historical thematics seen through the figure of a national hero. Cinema
was answering an expectation, a need for the re-appropriation of memory
risking to sublimate it through fictional narratives that play on
Manichaeism and neutralise any historicist vision of history. The theme
of the situation of peasants, along with their glorification, would be
broadly addressed, as in The Charcoal Maker by Mohamed Bouamari in 1972, a film that paints a sombre picture of the peasant condition. Noua (1973) by Abdellaziz Tolbi and The Nomads,
1975 by Sid Ali Mazif are emblematic of the willingness of filmmakers
to anchor themselves in original territory. Thus the 70's are seen as
the Golden Age of Algerian cinema.

In
their search for room to manoeuvre and looking to open up new horizons,
some filmmakers film in French with European actors and at the end of
the 80's, productions take on more universal directions. The end of the
90's is marked by a great lassitude and disarray, which is expressed in
films in an ironic and cynical manner. With Hey Cousin!,
1996, Merzak Allouache delivers a bitter comedy about the loss of
reference points of the younger generation and Mohamed Chouikh chooses
to present a parable of the disillusionment of the generation of
independence in The Ark of the Desert, 1997. His amnesiac
hero is a metaphor for the loss of reference points, which marked the
whole epoch. This period also sees three films made in the Amazig
language: The Forgotten Hill, 1997 by Abderrahmane Bouguermouh, The Mountain of Baila, 1997 by Azzedine Meddour and Machano
(Machaho, 1996) by Belkacem Hadjadj, which, beyond their themes, give
back to Algeria its Amazig dimension (Berber, as it is en vogue to say,
although inadequate), quite unusual in these countries.

For
several years now, and with the dynamic unleashed by the preparation
for the Year of Algeria in France, Algerian "internal" cinema, as
opposed to that of the diaspora, has been rediscovering its rights.
Algerian cinema had reached bottom on all levels of activity - zero
production, zero theatres, and zero distribution. Its comeback,
starting, in 2003 relied again upon that which had been the strength of
Algerian cinema, i.e., engaging historical themes. This time it was the
black years of terrorism that inspired the writing of screenplays. A
dramatic figure stands out, that of the woman, a double victim of
political violence and sexual aggression. Rachida, the
heroine of the eponymous film by Yamina Chouikh (2002) is emblematic of
what we find recurring, albeit with contextual variations, in two other
films of the same ilk. The Suspects, 2004 by Kamel
Dahane, in which a young psychiatrist, Samia, is confronted by traumas
arising from the inherent violence of social relations well before the
integrationist violence of the 90's. The other film is The Beacon
(El Manara, 2005) by Belkacem Hadjaj, which describes the frustrating
loves of three young Algerians from the tragic events of 1988 until
they are crushed by the radical and fanatical violence.

For
its part, Tunisia sees the development of an intimate cinema supported
by the investigation of the question of identity and relation with the
other. Relations are seen across all manifestations of desire. The
Tunisian critic and filmmaker Férid Boughédir remarks: "Unlike our
North African neighbours, who for various reasons were tempted by the
'epic' vein or the "populist" vein in different periods, these two
categories are practically absent from Tunisian films, in which art
films dominate in an almost individualistic manner."

This
aesthetic of intimacy and desire is developed through various recurring
dichotomies (man/woman, here/there, self/other), offering various
themes such as the celebration of female nudity (Halfaouine: Child of the Terraces (Asfour Stah, 1990), homosexuality, politicical repretion, sexual tourism (Bezness, 1992), and women's rights to sexual fulfilment (Fatma, 2002) and Red Satin,
2002. Another film emerges from the pack and establishes a new film
space, which stands in sharp contrast to the stereotyped figures of the
dominant cinema and revisits a deprived suburb of the capital city
Tunis. This film is Essayeda (1996) by Mohamed Zrane. One of
the greatest popular successes of Tunisian cinema, the film struck
audiences with its liberal tone and the showing of a space hitherto
unseen. Zrane returns to the centre of Tunis, his usual stomping
ground, as a spatial referent of an impossible love story about a
florist in The Prince, 2004, a great critical success which had only lukewarm public reception. The Villa,
2004 by Mohamed Damak, on the other hand enjoyed great popularity in
playing on the dichotomies of parents/children, rich/poor, boys/girls.

If
North African cinema continues to be confronted by structural
challenges (falling numbers of theatres, digital filming, public
indifference), it is nevertheless profoundly marked by a true dynamic.
It is a cinema that is emerging from a period in which films carried
the stigmata of the conditions of their production and is entering a
promising phase that confirms the passion for short films and the
emergence of new generations of directors.