QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM MALTA
Based on real-life events that shook and stunned the Northern African nation, Seloua El Gouni’s directorial debuts tells the story of Leila (Oumaima Barid), a beautiful twenty-something-year-old woman determined to live her life in a way deemed inappropriate and illegal. She becomes pregnant by the her boss Adam (Brice Bexter), a handsome man roughly her age. The problem is that he was brought up in the United States as a non-Muslim, following the tragic death of his Moroccan parents when he was a small child.
Leila lives in a deeply patriarchal society. She studied law for two years just because her father Driss (Mansour Badri) wanted it. She eventually changed her qualification to English, and applied for a job in an international company. This is where she met Adam. He conducts a face-to-face interview, which is presented in talking heads style, as the two future lovers face each other at opposite ends of the table. Complicity and intimacy are immediately evident. The language of Shakespeare liberates Leila. And Leila’s desire to break free enraptures Adam. Their connection is profound and sincere. Leila’s English is auspicious, however a little stiff and stilted. This is symbolic of her determination to embrace the outside world, come rain or shine.
The power of the father remains pervasive. Leila attempts to hide the unwanted pregnancy, with the hesitant protection of her mother Fatima (Amal Ayouch). The woman is prepared to defend her daughter, but only to a certain extent. The shackles of traditional marriage keep her firmly tethered to the whims of her husband, who sees his overbearing paternity as a duty. Leila also finds solace in her outgoing cousin Sophia (Soraya Azzabi). She is a far more outgoing young woman of roughly the same age. She listens to David Bowie’s Rebel Rebel in front of the mirror. Her frizzled hair and vivid lipstick are neatly aligned with the song lyrics. Leila is a lot more conservative, with a straightened coiffure and a far more “modest” taste in music.
It comes as a terrifying surprise to Driss that it is his seemingly quiet and demure daughter that breached one of the most sacred societal rules. He is convinced that his niece is the one to blame. Or perhaps his wife, whom he tells: “your daughter brought shame and disgrace upon our family”. His carefully chosen words shift the responsibility of Leila’s perceived wrongdoings onto Fatima, while distancing himself from his only female child (he has a boy aged roughly 10). The topic of sex and female sexuality is such a taboo that it is his own daughter that confronts him with the terminology he never dared to utter: “Do I look like a whore to you?”, she exclaims during a heated argument.
Leila’s bosdy expels all sorts of fluids as she experiences a very turbulent pregnancy. The tribulations are physical and psychological. The fears are punishment are both intense and founded. Non-marital sex isn’t just frowned upon in Morocco. It’s criminal. The baby could land Leila in prison. Adam’s non-religious upbringing is a major aggravating factor. The destiny of a child born under such conditions would be uncertain. So she comes up with a cunning escape plan.
The action takes place in the coastal city of Casablanca, facing the Atlantic. Drone shots establish that the landscape is vast, urban and functional. Yet it is the sea that offers hope. Leila tells Adam as they face the Ocean: our lives will be much easier there”, in reference to the New World where Adam was brought up. This tragic love story is told with clarity and confidence, in a film lasting nearly two hours. The shocking fate of each character is revealed in text form at the very end. The good script is supported by mostly effective actors, with the occasional stagey interaction. The romance is doused a little too deep in saccharine. A scene in which Leila and Adam hold hands on the beach look like a yoghurt advert.
The Wound shows in the Official Competition of the 3rd Mediterrane Film Festival, in Malta. A flawed yet memorable little film.
