Berlin Dispatch – Who Do I Belong To

The 74th Berlinale has not been the strongest edition but it saved one of its very best films for last. Making her feature debut, Tunisian-Canadian director Meryam Joobeur’s Who Do I Belong To is a suspenseful, enlightening, deeply tragic tale about the human toll of terrorism. Narratively and stylistically stunning, it’s the kind of discovery that Cannes would be lucky to have in its competition. A knockout.

When Mehdi and Amine go missing like other young Tunisian men do ever more frequently, their parents Aicha (Salha Nasraoui) and Brahim don’t need to be told what happened. They know they’ve lost their sons to ISIS and would either never see them again or – should they ever come back – find them behind bars. This nightmare has become so commonplace that even the family’s youngest Adam (Rayene Mechergui) understands his brothers didn’t go to Italy to work. But then out of the blue Mehdi is back, shell-shocked and accompanied by his new wife Reem, a pregnant lady who stares from the slit of her niqab and never speaks. Where is Amine? Who is Reem? What’s going on with all these other men from the village disappearing all of a sudden? Together with local policeman Bilal, a shaken family tries to find some answers.

Foreboding and atmospheric, Who Do I Belong To unfolds like a mystery. The unexpected return of someone recruited by ISIS, which should have been the happy end to the story, is merely the prologue. Questions come up as Mehdi and his unspeaking bride hide from the authorities, meanwhile strange things start happening all around them. Throughout the film there are brief fantastical interludes which might be flashbacks or reflections of the characters’ state of mind. Either way they keep you on your toes and remind you there are still layers of horror to be discovered.

Joobeur’s script is very effective, drawing you in with surprising turns of events and vivid, fully formed characters. A grief-stricken mother determined to protect her child at any cost. A guilty father unable to face the failure of losing his sons to a terrorist group. A boy uncorrupted by the evils of the world who sees what others don’t. A young man traumatized by a trip to hell who can’t shake the demons that still haunt him. And a woman concealed from view whose past might hold the key to all that can’t be explained. There’s a supernatural element to the ending that some may not appreciate but this is a story propelled by very human notions, including the loss of humanity under extreme circumstances.

As a director, Joobeur’s command of rhythm and style is outstanding. The film moves at an assured pace, allowing you to be immersed in an almost dream-like state of trauma and doubt. Without hurry, it illustrates how individual lives are wrecked by the touch of terror and communicates the dread permeating a country in the grip of fear. The narrative flows smoothly from ultra realist depictions of a Tunisian farming family to shadowy glimpses of things that may or may not be there, building tension at every turn. A scene where Bilal questions a mute girl who’s witnessed the disappearance of her father would not feel out of place in a David Fincher thriller, while Aicha’s anxiety-fraught visions can be as unsettling as something cooked up by Ari Aster.

On a pure visual level, Who Do I Belong To delivers, too. Joobeur makes abundant use of Tunisia’s striking landscape, from its endless expanse of barren land to the starlit whitecaps of its shores. The grandeur of the surroundings is not just breathtaking to behold but lends an added mysticism to the film. You can also tell Joobeur’s talent as a visual storyteller from the way she frames her shots. Especially with regard to the character of Reem, of whom we only see the eyes, she finds the most intriguing, expressive camera angles. Whether in extreme close-up or shot from the back focusing on the reaction of her scene partner, seen in the dark with light reflecting from her eyes or as a blurry figure indistinguishable from her garb, these shots beautifully evoke the character’s mysterious intensity and keep you guessing.

The whole cast is great, providing a rounded picture of an ordinary family affected by extremism. In lead, Nasraoui is utterly compelling, bringing to life a woman who desperately wants her son back even if all that’s left of him is an empty shell. Of the supporting actors, I’m particularly impressed by Mechergui, who’s so natural as the innocent boy in the middle of some dangerous adult business you can’t help but worry for his well-being.

That a first-time feature writer/director made a film that works on just about every level is pretty remarkable. Beyond the riveting plot, excellent performances, gorgeous look and sound, I’m especially struck by the insights and unspoken message of Who Do I Belong To: terrorism doesn’t just destroy the lives of its intended targets, it poisons all involved in a way that may never be fixed. Whether Lupita’s jury agrees with my assessment we’ll know in two days’ time; in any case this is my Golden Bear at the 74th Berlinale.