The movies sets an unnerving tone from the very first frame. A particularly unsettling and horrifying opening sequence, interestingly, doesn’t exactly establish the film’s core content, but does serve to inject a heavy sense of dread into the proceedings.
Written and directed by Yanis Koussim, Roqia is a work that doesn’t necessarily revel in violence but is nonetheless quite comfortable in it, used to it in a way. The violence is generally scarce but effective; it’s the kind of gruesomeness that has one shifting in their seat, trying to grapple with what they’re seeing. But Roqia doesn’t allow the viewer to escape from the moment so easily. It’s not gratuitous, but it is visceral.
The plot hops around in time but stays guided by two main threads: one taking place in 1992 during the Algerian Civil War and the other in present-day Algeria. The worlds of both threads feature home lives that hint at deeper complications. While it could be argued that the characters of Roqia, portrayed by actors including Ali Namous, Lydia Hanni, Mostefa Djadjam, and Hanaa Mansour, don’t have elaborate or dramatic character arcs, their worlds feel authentic, lived-in, and oftentimes dangerous. These actors carry the weight of their worlds effectively and with subtlety. These feel like real people. There is a supernatural element to Roqia that is vital to the story’s thrust but doesn’t detract from the human feeling. Roqia is effective because of this careful balance.
An uneasy tension simmers just below the surface at all times, and it’s a credit to Koussim that it’s difficult to predict the direction the story will take at any given moment. It’s minimalist in terms of cinematography and relies heavily on shadows and darkness to mostly successful effect. Several sequences of flashing lights – often literally from glances of flashlights – create a sense of panic as the eye struggles to put the images together into a cohesive sequence, though admittedly, a few actions happen in such a quick flash that it takes a moment or two to register what exactly one just saw. The sequences that do not employ heavy shadows or darkness – namely, the daytime sequences – are a welcome reprieve, lulling the viewer into a brief sense of security that quickly dissipates when night falls once more. It’s a fascinating relationship between light and dark.
There are quotes at the beginning and the end of the film that hint at the deeper significance beneath Roqia. Historical, political, and social contexts shed different light on the film and the story, as well as the sequences within. The beginning of the Algerian Civil War, specifically, provides the appropriate context to thoroughly understand the film’s message. The conflict – a war between the Algerian government and several Islamist rebel groups – saw 150,000 casualties, many of whom were civilians in what has been termed a “dirty war”. It can’t be overstated the impact the war has on the film. The supernatural elements are placed effectively throughout the movie by Koussim to convey that the acts that human beings are capable of are far more horrifying than the otherworldly horrors depicted in many horror films.
There’s a lot to like about Roqia. It’s a grounded, human-driven horror film that houses a few sequences that are genuinely discomforting and grim. It’s cynical in a way that feels earned, framed by events that left an indescribably huge mark on Algeria, a way that can be understood by the viewer based on what’s shown and, perhaps more importantly, what’s implied.
Roqia premiered in the 82nd edition of the Venice International Film Festival. Also showing at the 5th Red Sea International Film Festival.
