QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM THE RED SEA

The year is 1978, briefly before the Soviet-Afghan War commenced. Suraya (Mozhdah Jamalzadah) lives with her mother and her uncle inside a large mansion in Kabul. She has Russian friends, including prominent diplomat Maxim. She even speaks a couple of words in the Slavonic language. Most significantly, she has positive feelings towards the ideology of the largest country of earth. Despite coming from a wealthy family, she believes in the strength of the working class, while also being seduced by the allure of absolute equality (including gender equality). She resents that – despite claiming that the first university in the world was founded by a female Muslim scholar 1,000 years ago – it was only in the 1940s that women in her country were first allowed to stury. While not labelling herself as such, Suraya has unequivocal feminist aspirations.

Her easy-do-lucky sister Sima (Niloufar Koukhani) is far more c0ncerned with her musical career (she plays the rubab, the country’s national instrument) and impending marriage, remaining mostly oblivious to the political turmoil that gripped the nation. She is a lot more religious and traditional than her vaguely rebellious sibling.

The outlook isn’t rosy. The tensions are rising quickly. A Soviet invasion seems increasingly inevitable. Americans arm the ultra-conservative Mujahideen in the mountains. These people would eventually morph into the Taleban. This is a connection that the film fails to make. Presumably, the director and the four scriptwriters are convinced that much of the world is deeply familiar with the turbulent history of Afghanistan.

Despite her left-leaning inclinations and overt antipathy for the United States, Suraya has welcomed American culture into her life. Her attire is very Western, and it is to the sound of Aretha Franklin’s Respect that she finds liberation. She cherishes her right to decide whom she should marry, and frowns upon fellow women who’s rather leave that decision to men. Suraya would fit in well in New York. Meanwhile, Sima is gravitates towards the mujahideen (the exact nature of her affiliation is left for viewers to imagine, as this subplot is rather undeveloped).

Suraya and Sima are the daughters of a late university professor and political grandee. This means that they are influential, and with powerful connections. A friends turns to Suraya in order to find out what happened to a member of her family, allgedly murdered alongside a mullah. Suraya sets out to help, only to find out that she too may be in a very vulnerable position, and that her rich family are very easy targets for militants from all sides.

The fourth feature film of Roya Sadat, born in the Northwestern Afghan city of Herat, seeks to shed light on the geopolitical forces that tussle for control over her birth nation. Factionalism prevails. The Khalq and the communist-leaning Parcham wage an internal battle. Politicians such as Hafizullah Amin and Nur Muhammad Taraki collude with the Soviets, with the hope for a better future for the country. Unfortunately, the contextualisation is scrappy. at best. Those with a limited understanding of Afghan history might feel a little lost in translation.

The film opens with a very clunky flash-forward into 2021, the year the Taleban reclaimed control of the Afghanistan. An elderly Suraya, her granddaughter and few brave women take to the streets of Kabul demanding “bread, work and freedom”. There is no explanation as to how the Taleban first reached power, and how their American sponsors of yore toppled their regime in 2001. There is virtually nothing on the events that took place between 1978 and 2021. The movie returns to the year of 2021 in its final five minutes. Present-day Soraya is seen again, alongside real photos of Afghan women throughout history. From liberation to oppression, back to liberation, and then back to oppression again. From mini-skirt to burqa. There is no satisfactory conclusion or significant takeaway – other than the vastly known fact that the Taleban are horrible to women, and they should be avoided at all costs. Just because your country’s history is messy, it doesn’t mean so should your film.

There are other significant issues with Sima’s Song. The setting of this Dutch-Spanish-French production isn’t reminiscent of Kabul: the architecture looks very Western, and the vegetation is strangely lush. A far cry from the Arab architecture and the arid landscape more commonly associated with the capital of Afghanistan – either now or in the 1970s. The acting too is problematic. While Jamalzadah delivers a convincing performance, Koukhani lacks the dramatic abilities required for such a central character (one that lends her name to the film title). At times, she is strained and unnatural.

Sima’s Song is part in the Official Competition of the 4th Red Sea International Film Festival. A love letter to the women of Afghanistan. Written straight, with crooked lines.