Abdellatif Kechiche, 2007
Couscous (aka
The Secret of the Grain), Abdellatif Kechiche's third feature has once again earned the Tunis born French director critical acclaim and awards a plenty. After winning the 'Lion of the Future' award at the
Venice Film Festival in 2001 with his debut, '
La Faute a Voltaire' and following on the success with more awards for his second feature in 2003,
L'esquive (Games of Love and Chance),
Couscous finds the talented director in fine form. Composing a ensemble piece about the daily struggles of an immigrant family living in the French port town of Sete, Kechiche's latest film covers similar ground to his previous work and establishes his growing reputation as one of the primary voices of immigrant life in Europe.
Focusing on ship worker Slimane (
Habib Boufares), a 60 year old immigrant from North Africa, the film follows his attempts to open a couscous restaurant after learning of his dismissal by a management downsizing and paying no regard to his 30 year service record. Slimane, a taciturn and humble man, quiet because his years have taught him that losing his head serves no purpose, decides upon the venture almost as if on a whim, as if building a restaurant; using his ex-wife's cooking, will keep his vast families together. Estranged from his family, living in his lover's hotel; a small run down room overlooking the harbour, the restaurant venture seems like Slimane's last throw of the dice for a life, he believes, that has achieved nothing.

Whilst the building of the restaurant provides the film with a narrative backbone, it's Slimane's vast army of women in his life; the estranged wife, Souad (
Bouraouia Marzok), the lover, Latifa (
Hatika Karaoui), his daughter, Karima (
Farida Benkhetache), the daughter-in-law, Julia (
Alice Houri) and his lover's daughter, Rym (in an award winning performance from
Hafsia Herzi) that bare the brunt of the film. This relationship, between Slimane and the women in his life, is explored within the films opening moments with Slimane delivering fresh fish to each of them in turn. His silent and weary demeanor contrasts starkly to their energetic, dynamic vigour; whereas they are full of vim, Slimane remains placid and quiet, worn down by life.
Food, the joy's of the cooking, eating and the spiritual kinship it can offer forms two of the film's most inspired set-pieces; both centering on big banquets. Both scenes fizzle in off the hip camera work, the dialogue is partly ab-libbed and the energy is frenetic and hypnotic. The first of these scenes takes place in Souad's home, the other takes place on the restaurants opening night, with her extended family sat around the massive dinner table, minus Slimane. The scene sparkles as everyone speaks, laughs and shouts at once, plates of salivating couscous, fish and meat fill the table, each being passed along so they all get their fair share. In extended long takes, extreme close-ups and rapid camera work, the scene paints a beautiful picture of how families function; the in-jokes, the teasing, the unconditional love, all lovingly composed in classicist and humanist style.

It's this slice of life, an almost novelistic style approach to the film that makes
Couscous all the more unbearable when the tone switches from the bittersweet to the tragicomic; as if it's all too recognisable and inevitably laden to go wrong. Slimane walks around the whole film like a man condemned, in fact when he does at last offer the flicker of a smile, it's a sure sign that things are about to go wrong. When the proverbial hits the fan it's, once again, up to the women to tackle the problem; most the men depicted in Couscous are either selfish, down on their luck or have simply been beaten into submission by life, as in the case with Slimane. Women on the other hand, carry on regardless; strong, forthright and able to deal with any given crisis, smiling graciously, toiling yet letting the men take all the credit.
Couscous occupies itself with the rhythm of everyday life, the cacophony of people talking at once with words going unheard and the way in which family forgive and forget. The tone of Couscous is neither miserabilist or triumphant; it meanders in the every day pursuit of happiness, family tensions and trying to get by as best you can; a tone which for the majority of the film, except for it's out of keeping finale, that feels very much in the real world. You end up caring deeply for the fate of several characters and thanks largely to the films two set pieces, you become intoxicated with the sights and smells of all that delicious food. It should come to no surprise then that by the films end I hunted high and low for the nearest couscous restaurant.

Despite it's achievements, Couscous sometimes feels rather laboured, there's an argument that Kechiche could have cut away some of the more needless vignettes of everyday life; at 151 minutes long it sometimes struggles to hold the viewers attention. There's also a case of some rather dull caricatures of white, affluent bourgeois, with their idle chit-chat and casual racism which sometimes bordered on the tedium. However Couscous is a triumph, one that's reverberated in France and on the international circuit, taking the festival circuit by storm and fawned over by critics everywhere. Despite it's few flaws, I also have issues with it's surreal and abrupt ending, I'm not about to disagree with the consensus. Couscous is a great film, one that will have you reeling for weeks after you've watched it; the film has played on me for days now, and will keep you thinking about it's themes and ideas long into the night.

Originally posted on:
Film for the Soul