The art of the storyteller lies in one’s ability to
successfully weave universally understood human qualities into culturally
specific explanations of life. When utilized as a means of resistance in the
face of oppressive authority, these twin characteristics of universal appeal
and cultural specificity seem perfectly suited to the subtlety needed for
rebellion. Like the old Blues and Spirituals of the United States' South which
relied heavily on metaphor and unspoken cues[1]
to transmit information about rebellion and unacknowledged histories in the
face of extreme oppression[2],
movies have now taken over as the new medium of widespread transmission for
controversial ideas, histories, and foment. While
admittedly filmmakers are subject to entirely different kinds of restrictions
than Blues singers were, on occasion they still manage to create works that
instill a similar impetus for dissent while operating within the strictures of
heavy-handed censorship. One such controversial film that exemplifies this underhanded
dealing with politics is the movie Halfaouine: Boy of the Terraces ( عصفور السطح ), directed
by Fèrid Boughedir. Thread along the invisible backbone of the plot to Halfaouine's
hypervisible coming-of-age storyline is a call to arms that works on unspoken cues
and hinted connections to convey its message. As it was with Blues music, there
remains in Halfaouine the barely discernible outline of subterfuge
embedded within the film’s openness that evaded even Tunisian censors while it
called out a message of revolt relevant to a wider Tunisian audience.
Now, in
order to understand the importance of the link between such revolutionary
movies as Halfaouine and the Blues, one must first understand what the
Blues are. The Blues are a lot of things, but primary amongst all of its
descriptions is that the Blues give voice to a bone-deep longing for something
that is always just out of reach. It is an expression of wanting something so
bad you can taste it, but never being allowed fulfillment. Whether it is
freedom, liberty, happiness, love, sex, a home- any number of things a person
could long for- all the subjects of the Blues share the quality of being just
out of reach. The Blues then becomes that deep down wail of anguish and
frustration that has to be let out in the face of hopelessness in order just to
keep on going. This is the side of the Blues that people worldwide can relate
to upon first listening, that part that communicates soul to soul and
experience to experience in a kind of cathartic release. However, the Blues
also serves a dual purpose, that of telling the untold history of a people and
a place in time. As movies have come to replace oral traditions like those expressed
in the Blues and other genres, the same primal sob that the Blues embodied before can be seen re-formulated into cinema- as can the
re-telling of “official” histories with coded messages to rebel.
Set within a
recognizable time period of Tunisian history, the movie Halfaouine spins
“official” history as it ducks past censors with a simple but potent message
smuggled in its plot. To start with, the story of young Noura as a
"Mannish Boy"[3]
struggling to insert himself into the ranks of men contains all the necessary
distractions needed to maintain a theme of dissent hidden in plain sight.
Filled with bright, busy scenes bursting with bodies and sexuality crosscut
with isolated, dark dream-like sequences immersed in fairytale and metaphor, Fèrid
Boughedir artfully constructs a superficial storyline that masks its true
purpose from censorship as ingeniously as Noura (initially) masks his voyeurism
in the hammam. The impression of a lighthearted film centered on Noura's discovery
of sexuality seems complicated only by the repeated question of "When does
one become a man?" that continually edges in around the corners of the
comedy. This question becomes a pivotal theme within Halfaouine, as
implicit within it is the question of Tunisian autonomy- but this
necessarily remains caught up within the brighter distraction of Noura and his
quest for belonging in manhood. By using a young boy as the main character and
expertly combining such cinematic techniques as switching the level of framing
to Noura's perspective, point-of-view shots and following shots, the film
absorbs the audience into the naïve worldview of a
child watching gravely serious affairs take place with sometimes humorous and always
uncomprehending eyes. It is precisely the success of this absorption that
allows the deeper message of the film to succeed. As the viewer becomes wrapped
up in the nostalgia of familiar lived experiences, distracting naked bodies
(well, distracting to some) drenched in water and light, and in deciphering a
convoluted half-imaginary half-real world of childhood, the main question of
the film- "When does one become a man?"- becomes hidden among
the folds of familiarity, as does the film's answer to its own question.
This
diversionary tactic is fine until closer inspection shows that the simple,
comedic quality of Noura's story doesn't hold up too well to the question of
the film. Focusing primarily on Noura (which the cinematography eagerly invites
the viewer to do) actually reveals darker implications for Noura's
"manhood" at the end of the film than the movie's happy-go-lucky tone
would suggest. Superficially, Noura's laughing refusal of his father at the end
mimics a feel-good closure of the quest for manhood and place that allows a
similarly superficial happy feeling of resolution to be imagined. Yet given a
bit more thought, the conclusion seems to fall short of true resolution. The
question of manhood has not been answered either by Noura or by his actions; in
fact, Noura is proven to be only a vehicle for the larger motive of the film.
Noura is not the point of the movie, but a tool to demonstrate Boughedir’s
response to the question of Tunisian independence and autonomy.
It is not
through Noura's story, but through the shoemaker Salih's response to the
confines of the oppressive regime, that the question of manhood/autonomy is
addressed. This unseen but felt external ruling force is directly (and safely)
linked to Bourguiba through historical clues, but by not directly giving the
regime a name the movie leaves an ambiguity in its presence as if to implicate
any leader who follows this pattern of rule. Outside the immediate scope of the
film- but implied within its setting- is the history of Tunisia's struggle with
independence from a variety of external and internal restrictive forces.
Salih's response to the question "When does one become a man?" is to
re-write the leader's slogan on the wall to emphasize the people's collective
opinion over that of the head of the nation. Read within the context of
Tunisian political revolt, Salih's answer can be seen not as a stance against
Bourguiba but as a stance against all oppression, whether it is perpetrated by
Bourguiba, Ben Ali, or any other who would follow in their footsteps. One
becomes a man, then (or so Salih seems to tell Noura), when a person takes a
definite stand against injustice with full knowledge and understanding of the
consequences. This is the call-and-response of the film[4], the preacher
calling out a question to an audience primed to already have the answer,
written as it is in everybody’s minds and hearts through hope and rote.
Seen in hindsight it appears
Boughedir’s call in Halfaouine is one whose answer was already known to
most Tunisians. Not just this film, but many others from before the Tunisian
Revolution contain expressions of hope frustrated and a longing unfulfilled[5]
characteristic of- for lack of a better descriptor- the Blues. Behind the
figure of Noura peeks a movie that re-writes Tunisian history as surely as
Salih edits the writing on the wall to say what best suits the Tunisian people,
but it also reveals an unrealized dream for autonomy in the final actions of
Noura to claim his “manhood.” After receiving the key answer to the question of
the film, Noura makes the decision to mimic what he’s seen of other men instead
and follow personal satisfaction at the expense of others. His attainment of
“manhood” is a pitiful parody of what Salih exhibited in taking a stand, which
doesn’t speak too hopefully about a positive future for Noura or Tunisia and
leaves the new question of “how many more years?”[6] burning
for an answer. Although, it would seem from recent events that perhaps the
beginning of that answer has finally started to come into its own, hopefully to
culminate in leaving those “long time coming” Blues at the doorstep to be swept
away for good.
[1]
For a few brief samples of resistance hidden within seemingly innocuous lyrics,
see "Mr Charlie" by Lightning Hopkins, "John the Revelator"
by Blind Willie Johnson (or, for an alternate version, see Son House's
"John the Revelator"), "All the Pretty Little Horses" by
Odetta, and "Go Down Moses," "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless
Child," and "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" by Paul Robeson.
[2]
For example, the story in "Mr. Charlie" hinges upon one's familiarity
with the use of the phrase "Mr. Charlie" as slang for "white
man" and the history of "race" relations in the South;
"John the Revelator" requires an understanding of the prohibition
against literacy amongst slaves; "All the Pretty Little Horses"
references the forced servitude as wetnurses of many enslaved women to their
masters' children while their own were taken from them or left alone; and
"Go Down Moses" and "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" use Biblical
references to name specific geographical areas in the United States and real
stories of resistance as further inspiration.
[3]
A name coined by Muddy Waters in his song of the same name.
[4]
I use this reference to Southern Christian church services here not to place
the movie Halfouine within that context, but as a way of tying the Blues
back in, as they were born in large part from that atmosphere.
[5]
Perhaps this is a conclusion reached just from following the suggestions of others
so far, but it would seem every movie watched- Silences of the Palace, Red
Satin, Man of Ashes, Halfaouine, and Bezness- contains
an element of this.
[6]
I couldn’t help it, I had to add one final Blues reference into the paper. This
is a song by Howlin’ Wolf.
