Tunisian police inspector Fatih (Neji Kanaweti) is in a bit of a pickle. Three long missing villagers have “returned” in a very peculiar state. Their dead bodies have surfaced, but they aren’t as lifeless as they seem. Fatih meets up with doctor Amine (Bilel Slatnia), in an effort to discuss the events, but their conversations coincide with the failing crops. It all feels eerie to them, but this doesn’t deter investigating officer Omar (Majd Mastoura) to lead an enquiry into the events with his team. Each of them tries to look at the facts objectively, but each comes to the same question: is this a form of retribution for situations that occurred in the past?
Agora is a cocktail of genres. It’s part procedural, part horror, a gripping dissertation on man’s struggles in a modern world. Director Ala Eddine Slim uses two animals, a crow and a dog, in order to act as eyes of the audience: the surreality occurring in real time before their eyes, and the viewers’. The feature flirts with magic realism, and a collection of subtitles reflects the characters internal monologue. The chaos is detailed by the performances, fear rippling behind the eyes of the men recalling the return of the corpses. These bodies, it is established, exist in a realm between life and death: Eddine Slim is very careful not to turn this work into a zombie movie, but there are ghostly undertones.
Deeply atmospheric and driven by the characters, the filmmakers cleverly allow the lead actors tackle the heavy lifting. Of the leads, Kanaweti is especially impressive, capturing an aura that stems from the internal horror his Fatih is going through. In many ways, Kanaweti is reminiscent of Al Pacino in Insomnia (Christopher Nolan, 2002): driven by raw-nerve and gumption when logic and common sense seems to go against his rational mindset. Indeed, the actor makes some of the more clunky plot points seem palatable by virtue of his committed performance.
Set in Tunisia, Agora serves as a commentary on the nation’s socio-political backdrop. The crops serve as something of a metaphor for the country’s economy; the fear villagers feel is close to the ennui experienced in real life. A mature fable, the feature expects audiences to treat leaders with scepticism and some distrust; if there is an aphorism, it’s to think for yourself in a manner free from interference. Individualism is a key trait absent from the people lamenting what they see as something of a Biblical plague in their area.
“We entrust ourselves to him to deliver us from evil”, some of the villagers pray during this time of upheaval. Yet there is a strength to these words: the people are courageous enough to see the turbulence through to the end. A strength in numbers, it is the collective that faces these strange moments as one voice. Agora suggests that humans thrive on community, . The individual is strong; the co-operative is grander.
There are inventive flourishes: a segment is filmed almost entirely in blue, evoking the aquatic tones seen through the dog’s perspective. A sequence featuring white socks against black clothing is impressive in its display, and wide shots exhibit a beauty crushed under the weight of buildings being erected. As it happens, Agora could be re-interpreted as a play, considering the density of the performances and the rapier-sharp dialogue.
Not all flourishes blossom in full, Some of the ensemble performances, particularly the doctor portrayed by Sonia Zarg Ayouna, feel flat, and Amine’s arc is occasionally sidelined for Fatih’s journey. On the whole, the movie is an invigorating story about struggles in a capitalist world, and the necessity to discern the real from the hyperreal. In Kanaweti, viewers have a compelling lead to bring them into this strange little world.
Agora premiered in the Official Competition of the 77th Locarno Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. Also showing in the 4th edition of the Red Sea International Film Festival.
