Un divan in Tunis (2019)

Directed by: Manele Labidi | 88 minutes | comedy | Actors: Golshifteh Farahani, Majd Mastoura, Aïsha Ben Miled, Feryel Chammari, Hichem Yacoubi, Najoua Zouhair, Jamel Sassi, Ramla Ayari, Moncef Ajengui, Zied El Mekki, Oussama Kochkar, Mhadheb Rmili, Rim Hamrouni, Yosra Bencheenely

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia. It all started with Mohammed Bouazizi, a young man who could not find work and therefore started selling fruit and vegetables. Because he actually needed a permit for that, his merchandise was confiscated. A policeman is said to have beaten Bouazizi. His complaints went unheeded, after which the desperate Bouazizi saw no other way out than to douse himself with gasoline and set himself on fire. He died in hospital and did not live to see his protest follow. Although the state-controlled media ignored the uprisings, the images spread across the country via social media. In other countries in North Africa and the Middle East, too, people rose up against the oppressive regime, ushering in the period we now know as the Arab Spring. In Tunisia, dictator Ben Ali was deposed and imprisoned; in the autumn, the first ever free elections took place in the North African country.

There is a real chance that, if the Jasmine Revolution had not taken place, the film ‘Un divan à Tunis’ (2019) could not have been made. This romantic comedy is about Tunisians who dare to open their mouths. On the couch with a psychotherapist then. Selma (Golshifteh Farahani) was born in Tunisia, but grew up in Paris and feels, dresses and behaves Western. Since there is apparently too much competition in France, she has decided to go to her homeland and start a practice there, with her aunt and uncle upstairs. She soon notices that the Tunisians are willing to talk, but that they actually have no idea what a psychotherapist actually does. And most do not pay with money, but with the tastiest homemade dishes, which Selma can never eat on her own. Local police officer Naim (Majd Mastoura) also notices that the queue for her makeshift practice is getting longer. Although he is quite fond of Selma, he is of the righteous type: he takes his work very seriously and points out to Selma that she needs a license to start a practice (are we seeing a reference to Mohammed Bouazizi here? ).

‘Un divan à Tunis’, released in some countries under the title ‘Arab Blues’, feels more like a French film than a Tunisian film, and not just because 90 percent of the dialogue is in French. Manele Labidi, who makes her directorial debut with this film and also wrote the screenplay, is of Tunisian descent, but was born in Paris and thus looks at the country of her ancestors with French eyes. Maybe she didn’t mean to, but she makes Selma look down on the Tunisians in a way. In addition, she made caricatures of Selma’s clients: we have a brash hairdresser with a maternal complex, a depressed imam and the local baker who prefers to wear women’s clothes and dreams of kissing powerful men. This should make for humorous situations, but the jokes are lackluster and miss their mark with regularity. Selma’s teenage niece wears a niqab with her parents, but only to hide her punk hair. Yet she is the one who occasionally dares to point out Selma’s biased gaze. This sees through what this film could have been; a socially critical mirror presented to a woman who grew up in the West. Unfortunately, moments like this are rare.

Labidi’s intentions are correct, but she often goes too far to make her point and therefore remains too much on the surface. That she chose Farahani for the lead role is remarkable; the Iranian actress barely speaks Arabic. On the other hand, perhaps that’s why the role of ‘outsider’ fits her very well. She is paired with Mastoura, who is allowed to play the ‘straight-faced cop’ here, and does this excellently, but has much more to offer. Selma and Naim are constantly spinning around each other, everyone can sense where this is going, even though Labidi films certain scenes in such an alienating way that you don’t know whether Selma is dreaming or not. Partly because of that approach, the ending has a somewhat unsatisfactory feeling. Another missed opportunity for Labidi. You could actually say that ‘Un divan à Tunis’ is a succession of missed opportunities. The concept is promising and there is enough talent involved in this film; the more disappointing it is that this film gets stuck in its good intentions.