Express News Service
If cinema were a religion, then Mehdi Fikri’s debut feature After The Fire could well be called a worthy—even if not as potent—follower of the sect of Ladj Ly’s Les Miserables. Just like Ly’s searing look at the ethnic and class divides in France and the brutal critique of the country’s professed multiculturalism and diversity, After The Fire is a no-holds-barred look at the relentless physical and psychological violence that defines the lives of the underprivileged racial groups in the country. In both the films the immediate context might be particular to contemporary France, but the portrayal of the righteous revolt of the oppressed underclass holds a mirror to tyrannical institutions anywhere in the world. Its portrayal of police brutality feels way too close to home.
Fikri claims to have drawn from his own work as a journalist covering the police, working-class, and social justice movements. Based on a real incident, the film is set in the suburb of Strasbourg and takes off from the death in police custody of Karim, a youth of North African descent. Even as the cops try to pass off the death as a case of epileptic fit, Karim’s estranged sister Malika (Camelia Jordana) takes it upon herself to fight for justice with the help of private lawyer Harchi (Makita Samba) and the support of her siblings Driss (Sofiane Zermani) and Nour (Sonia Faidi).
Fikri’s film unfolds like a gripping thriller. The kinetic camera mirrors the simmering unrest and discontent, both within the family and on the streets. It’s a world of strife inside and agitations outside.
On the one hand, the film exposes class, colour and race politics, the deep fissures and hatred in the society and polity as opposed to the French ideals of liberty, fraternity and egalitarianism. The deep and long-held prejudices of the privileged clash with the anger of the powerless who face persistent daily harassment and humiliation. Things are constantly on the edge, the endemic violence threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation. But this violence will only lead to more violence. And then some more.
Then there’s a parallel poignant thread about what happens when Karim’s family decides to take on the might of the racist criminal justice system, how the quest for rightful justice threatens its own stability and equilibrium, dredges out inner resentments of family members against each other. It doesn’t leave the family with time and privacy to grieve properly. It can’t even give Karim a burial for the fear that there may not be a legal review of the cause of death. What’s more, the courtroom battle and snooping media put Malika’s business, marriage and motherhood, all under tremendous strain. There’s no ready answer to the basic question: “When will it be over?” But only the assertion that Karim didn’t die for nothing and that they have to soldier on, for him.
A terrific ensemble composed largely of new, young actors—especially the passionate and powerful Jordana and Khammes—brings alive the astutely observed characters, relationships and family dynamics. Together they help ground the film’s politics in a familial space and it’s this personal element that makes the politics doubly meaningful. Ultimately what stays with the audience are simple words: “We won’t back down; we won’t give in” and the choice of a family to be daring than stay docile.
Cinema Without Borders
In this weekly column, the writer introduces you to powerful cinema from across the world
Film: After The Fire Follow The New Indian Express channel on WhatsApp
If cinema were a religion, then Mehdi Fikri’s debut feature After The Fire could well be called a worthy—even if not as potent—follower of the sect of Ladj Ly’s Les Miserables. Just like Ly’s searing look at the ethnic and class divides in France and the brutal critique of the country’s professed multiculturalism and diversity, After The Fire is a no-holds-barred look at the relentless physical and psychological violence that defines the lives of the underprivileged racial groups in the country. In both the films the immediate context might be particular to contemporary France, but the portrayal of the righteous revolt of the oppressed underclass holds a mirror to tyrannical institutions anywhere in the world. Its portrayal of police brutality feels way too close to home.
Fikri claims to have drawn from his own work as a journalist covering the police, working-class, and social justice movements. Based on a real incident, the film is set in the suburb of Strasbourg and takes off from the death in police custody of Karim, a youth of North African descent. Even as the cops try to pass off the death as a case of epileptic fit, Karim’s estranged sister Malika (Camelia Jordana) takes it upon herself to fight for justice with the help of private lawyer Harchi (Makita Samba) and the support of her siblings Driss (Sofiane Zermani) and Nour (Sonia Faidi).
Fikri’s film unfolds like a gripping thriller. The kinetic camera mirrors the simmering unrest and discontent, both within the family and on the streets. It’s a world of strife inside and agitations outside.googletag.cmd.push(function() {googletag.display(‘div-gpt-ad-8052921-2’); });
On the one hand, the film exposes class, colour and race politics, the deep fissures and hatred in the society and polity as opposed to the French ideals of liberty, fraternity and egalitarianism. The deep and long-held prejudices of the privileged clash with the anger of the powerless who face persistent daily harassment and humiliation. Things are constantly on the edge, the endemic violence threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation. But this violence will only lead to more violence. And then some more.
Then there’s a parallel poignant thread about what happens when Karim’s family decides to take on the might of the racist criminal justice system, how the quest for rightful justice threatens its own stability and equilibrium, dredges out inner resentments of family members against each other. It doesn’t leave the family with time and privacy to grieve properly. It can’t even give Karim a burial for the fear that there may not be a legal review of the cause of death. What’s more, the courtroom battle and snooping media put Malika’s business, marriage and motherhood, all under tremendous strain. There’s no ready answer to the basic question: “When will it be over?” But only the assertion that Karim didn’t die for nothing and that they have to soldier on, for him.
A terrific ensemble composed largely of new, young actors—especially the passionate and powerful Jordana and Khammes—brings alive the astutely observed characters, relationships and family dynamics. Together they help ground the film’s politics in a familial space and it’s this personal element that makes the politics doubly meaningful. Ultimately what stays with the audience are simple words: “We won’t back down; we won’t give in” and the choice of a family to be daring than stay docile.
Cinema Without Borders
In this weekly column, the writer introduces you to powerful cinema from across the world
Film: After The Fire Follow The New Indian Express channel on WhatsApp