QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM TALLINN
Mira (Safaa Khattami) is an orphan child living in a rural community of Morocco. She spends most of her time in the beautiful pine forest, always under the purview of the smiley ghost of her late father Aksel. Two local wrongdoers shoot birds with a slingshot, or trap them in cages with the purpose selling them to drivers in the nearby road. Mira sets to heal and free the poor animals. In the process, she befriends an immigrant of roughly her age. Despite the language barrier, the two children develop a profound bond, and Mira eventually meets his entire community.
The two wrongdoers are in the company of a donkey. Only half of this quixotic pair is genuinely evil, the swivel-eyed villain played to perfection by Omar Lofti. He finds pleasure in humiliating just about everyone else, particularly the migrants. He is convinced that the outsiders are the ones destroying the traps (he argues that “these people” will eat all their birds, in a concern echoed by Trump’s infamous dogs and cats remark). He is very attracted to Mira (or pretty much any person of the opposite sex). And he doesn’t make an effort to conceal his libido: his flyers are always open (that’s the only birdie our antagonist wishes to set free). The other wrongdoer is in reality a kind man, played by Ismail El Fallahi. He is entirely devoted to his donkey, whom he affectionately calls Dounia and gingerly embellishes with flowers. And he has a rifle to hand. His evil sidekick insists that he uses them on the migrants. Instead he often points it to the very unpleasant man bossing him around.
The titular protagonist also fights a battle at her school. She insists that the school bullies should accept her migrant friend, and that nobody should fear the dark-skinned foreigners (these migrants come from Sub-Saharan Africa, and their skin is Black). School teacher Lamia (Zaynab Alji) is on Mira’s side. She thinks that her students should value rebellion, creativity, tolerance and diversity. She even counts a cross-dressing adult amongst her pupils (a character commendable for its intention, however very clumsily inserted into the story). She paints a map of Africa and asks various children to represent one country each, in an effort to encourage broad-mindedness. Mira’s grandmother Zainab (Fatima Attif) acts as Lamia’s counterpart, representing tradition. She cannot get over the fact that her husband divorced her, and she does not approve of her grandchild’s noble virtues.
The filmmaker repeatedly draws a parallel between birds and human beings. Crucially, it reminds viewers that both animals and human beings are entitled to their freedom, and that borders are invisible and futile.
This movie is entirely structured as a children’s film: the child protagonist, the unidimensional characters, the theatrics, Manichaeism, the plush colours, the jaunty tunes, the didacticism, and the easily digestible takeaways. On the other hand, some of the topics are very adult: immigration, xenophobia, child abuse (the antagonist is clearly a paedophile) and even cross-dressing. The representation of the refugee camp in the forest – while not particularly realistic – is striking. This may sound like a strange combination, and yet, for the most part, it does work. Mira is a subversive children’s film. It could entertain open-minded adult viewers, as well as provoke reflection amongst the little ones.
Mira just premiered in the Official Competition of the 29th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival. Moroccan producer, writer and director Nour-Eddine Lakhmari, now on his fifth feature film, is also an instrumentalist, singer and choreographer. He did not, however, compose the warm and tender film score.
