Tagged: asylum-seekers

Limbo (UK 2020)

Limbo is one of the more remarkable British films of the last few years. Its subject matter of asylum-seekers in the UK is not in itself new, but its presentation here is – in several different ways. Although it is a fictional story, there is a real-life event which is some ways might prompt the ideas behind the fiction. In 2015, when the Conservative government in the UK agreed to take 10,000 Syrian refugees, a small number of families (15 or 24 according to varying reports) were sent to Rothesay on the Isle of Bute. Rothesay is a ferry and road/rail journey of around 2 hours away from Glasgow. The influx of even a small number of refugees was noted on an island with a resident population of only around 6,500. Fortunately the refugees appear to have settled in well.

(from left) Omar (Amir El-Masry), Wasef (Ola Orebiyi), Abedi (Kwabena Ansah) and Farhad (Vikash Bhai) share a house

Ben Sharrock’s film Limbo places a motley group of around 20 asylum-seekers from Africa and Asia on a remote island in the Outer Hebrides (the film’s credits suggest that scenes were shot on several islands in the group including North Uist). This carries to the extreme the idea of isolating asylum-seekers with larger towns several hours journey away (apart from air services). The asylum-seekers are all single men who are housed in what appear to be local council dwellings and the narrative focuses on a group of four men in one of the small houses. Asylum-seekers are not allowed to work until they have been cleared to stay in the UK as refugees. Sharrock’s approach to his narrative is arguably both absurdist and fantastical, but in many ways actually makes a more authentic statement about what it means to be an asylum seeker than other more ‘realist’ films. The film is released in the UK by MUBI and after cinema screenings it is now available to stream on MUBI. The stream includes a recorded discussion between writer-director Sharrock and his four principal actors. It is worth noting that the actors were at first reluctant to read a script which they thought might be the same old story about migrants and ‘white saviours’ etc. However, having read the script, they all became enthusiastic and very much wanted to be part of the production.

Boris and Helga role play an encounter on a dance-floor . . .

. . . to the bemusement of the asylum-seekers

The film opens with a close-up on a blackboard. The camera pulls back to a mid-shot of a woman facing the camera. She nods and a man turns on a portable CD player. Hot Chocolate’s ‘It Started With a Kiss’ begins and the camera pulls back to a long shot showing the woman slowly begin to move her body in time with the music. We can see the man now as well and the couple appear to be in a small hall with a high ceiling and a long thin blackboard on the wall behind the couple and a large space in front. The screen shape is Academy, the squarish shape (1.37:1) coming back into vogue for isolated art films. I was so mesmerised by this opening, I failed to recognise one of my very favourite performers, Sidse Babett Knudsen the Danish star of the Borgen TV serials. Here with long straggly hair and wearing an ill-fitting blouse and calf-length skirt, she and Kenneth Collard play Helga and Boris who are employed to help asylum-seekers to understand British customs. This lesson is ‘Cultural Awareness 101: Sex – Is a Smile an Invitation?’. When the camera offers us a reverse shot of the twenty asylum-seekers they look bemused, mystified or stunned. The camera picks out the four men who will be principal characters. Sidse’s dancing is at once hilarious, oddly strained and yet still erotic. The pacing is very slow. Helga asks a question when the dancing ends and one man slowly raises his hand to answer but we then cut to the bleak (but very beautiful) landscape of the isles with heather-covered moorland, seawater inlets and hills in the background and then to an isolated phone-box in the middle of nowhere. This is the centre of the universe for the asylum-seekers, their only means of access to the outside world (apart from a hill-top where a mobile signal might be possible). I’ve described this opening in detail because the constituent elements are well-known/conventional but Sharrock presents them in such a distinctive way throughout the film that we are invited to think again about what we see.

Omar speaks to his mother, a refugee in Turkey

Farhad examines the oud that Omar always carries

Eventually, our focus will narrow to just two of the characters (though significant action will also involve the two West Africans in the house). Omar is a Syrian who always carries his grandfather’s oud everywhere he goes. In its case, the oud is like a guitar and initially Omar cannot play it because he has injured his wrist. When his dressing is removed he is still unable to play but more from the trauma of being parted from his family (though he came to the UK deliberately, hoping to send for his parents). Omar speaks very good English, as does the other main character, the older Farhad, an engaging Afghani man who has been waiting longer for his asylum application to be considered. I’m not going to spoil any more of the narrative and instead I’ll stick to general comments about Ben Sharrock’s approach to his story. I understand he spent some time in Syria after growing up in Edinburgh. This is his second feature following Pikadero (Spain 2015), filmed in Spanish and Basque – this is also available on MUBI.

Omar meets some locals including these quizzical young women . . .

. . . and the Sikh who runs the mini-market

Limbo does have a conventional narrative of sorts. Some viewers might read it as a showing a ‘character journey’ for Omar. It’s not giving too much away to suggest that he can only free himself from his own ‘limbo’ by playing his oud, preferably for an audience. But this also means coming to terms with aspects of his family relationships and Sharrock finds ways to explore this using fantasy sequences which I think work very well. I think this is a wonderful film. Parts of it are very funny. One or two moments are harrowing. It isn’t an overlong film at just over 100 minutes but it is slow, giving you more time to appreciate the camerawork by Nick Cooke and the pacing of the edits by Karel Dolak and Lucia Zucchetti, as well as reflecting on what you are seeing. The performances are all very good but particularly the two central performances by Amir El-Masry as Omar and Vikash Bhai as Farhad. Bhai is from Leicester and El-Masry was brought up in London. I realised later that I had seen El-Masry in the John Stewart film Rosewater (US 2014). He has also appeared in a Star Wars film. Bhai has been in several UK TV shows. El-Masry speaks Egyptian Arabic and Bhai learned some Dari for his role as an Afghani man. I point this out simply to confirm that this is a carefully scripted film for actors rather than an attempt to cast non-professionals in a form of realist drama. The focus is directly on the experience of ‘limbo’, the pervading sense of being caught in a ‘waiting room’ with memories of where you have left and attempts to maintain hope about where you might get to. There is relatively little contact between the four men and the locals who are mainly friendly if sometimes insensitive. The locals include both Helga and Boris but also a local Glaswegian Sikh shopkeeper who has some good lines. Reviewers have variously compared the film’s presentational style to Abbas Kiarostami, Aki Kaurismäki and Roy Andersson. I can see the possible links but this is very much Ben Sharrock’s (and his cast and crew’s) film.

One of the best films I’ve seen this year and one that I very much recommend, I hope you can find Limbo online or on a cinema screen. Perhaps community cinemas will book it? You can view the MUBI trailer below. The US trailer is, I think, misleadingly ‘oversold’. The MUBI one gives you a better idea of the film.

Island of the Hungry Ghosts (Germany-UK-Australia 2018)

islandofthehungryghosts

Poh Lin Lee and daughter

Australian filmmaker Gabrielle Brady tells an important tale about the 21st century concentration camps where asylum seekers are processed in ways that dehumanise and are intended to act as a deterrent against others following. Her subject is Australia’s Christmas Island prison which represents the toxic attitude toward migration that many countries have; particularly Britain.

However she constructs the condemnation through metaphors: the millions of migrant crabs on the island and the Chinese folk who take part in ceremonies to guide the ‘hungry ghosts’ – that is those who weren’t buried properly – to peace. The amazing crabs, who migrate to the ocean to lay their eggs, are treated better by the authorities than people trying to find sanctuary in Australia. A ‘lollipop lady’ stops traffic to help them cross; roads are closed; sweepers escort cars to avoid squashing the crustaceans. In the other metaphor, Chinese residents create bonfires and chant to help the ghosts on their way; the asylum seekers are therefore characterised as hungry (for safety) ghosts (as they have no agency as they wait to be processed).

The key migrant narrative is shown through therapist sessions: Peter Bradshaw states these are recreations and as we hear a radio news broadcast stating that anyone talking to the media about detention centres could face up to two years imprisonment that is hardly surprising. It’s a symptom of growing authoritarianism in government that such draconian laws are passed; in the UK non disclosure agreements are increasingly used to avoid embarrassing information being given to the media. It’s a failure of democracy that those in power cannot be held to account.

Unsurprisingly the sessions are harrowing as Poh Lin Lee (playing herself) tries to help the traumatised migrants. Such therapy can only work long term and she is constantly frustrated by the authorities who refuse to give her information about the detainees and ignore her recommendations. She’s living on the island with her family and time is taken to observe their everyday life; I’m not sure what this adds to the documentary.

Brady is to be commended for the film but outrage is probably a more pertinent emotion and although it will manifest itself in audiences with compassion the film cannot work as a call to arms against the disgusting treatment of the most vulnerable in the world. I would have preferred more direct information but that is a light criticism as Brady has made the film she wants which is certainly worth seeing. MUBI.

LFF2017 #8: A Season in France (France 2017)

Abbas (Eriq Ebouaney) with Carole (Sandrine Bonnaire) and the children Asma (Aalayna Lys) and Yacine (Ibrahim Burama Darboe)

My short visit to LFF2017 ended with a journey across town to the Hackney Picturehouse. I first visited this cinema a couple of years ago and again we were in the mammoth Screen 1. I was disappointed by the size of the audience since this was the new film by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun, one of just two major international auteurs whose films from francophone Central and West Africa have kept alive the strong reputation of the region over the last ten years. (The other one is Abderrahmane Sissako whose film Timbuktu made a big splash in the UK in 2015.)

Mahamat-Saleh Haroun

Haroun has previously set his films in his native Chad. I missed his 2013 film Gris-Gris which showed at LFF but I don’t think was released in the UK. Gris-Gris and his earlier features Abouna (2002), Daratt (2006) and A Screaming Man (2010) were all set in the Central African country. Prior to A Season in France, he directed a documentary, Hissein Habré, a Chadian Tragedy (2016) about the dictatorship and its fall-out in his own country that led to his exile. His new film, as the title suggests, is set in France – though I’m not sure yet what the reference to a ‘season’ means, unless it’s a satirical reference to a hunting season? Haroun himself is based in France so he knows the issues likely to be faced by asylum seekers such as Abbas (Eriq Ebouaney).

Abbas is an asylum seeker in France after fleeing his home Bangui (capital of the Central African Republic). He has with him his two children, Asma and Yacine, but his wife was killed during the family’s flight from CAR. Abbas was a French teacher in CAR and so was Etienne (a philosophy teacher), who I think might be Abbas’ brother-in-law, another who is seeking asylum. The children call Etienne ‘uncle’ but I did wonder if this was just the common usage of ‘uncle’ for any older male known to the family. Abbas and his children move constantly from one rented or borrowed room to another. Etienne has even less to call home and survives as a doorman/security guard outside a pharmacy. Abbas works on a stall in the market and develops a relationship with Carole (Sandrine Bonnaire) who has a floristry business linked to the market stall and whose family is Polish from a different wave of migration. The strain of the asylum application process is very heavy. Haroun presents the waiting room and the security guards at the office dealing with asylum seekers – but we never see the bureaucrats. Instead the asylum seekers receive official letters. If the strain is too great, the asylum seekers can all too easily ‘fail’ in their attempt to achieve permanent status.

A family with no permanent base and no security while they apply for refugee status

In several ways, A Season in France resembles I, Daniel Blake and other Loachian dramas in which individuals without money or status have to deal with a state bureaucracy. (But it also includes dream sequences, which I can’t recall in a Loach film.) I don’t want to give out spoilers, so I’ll just suggest that the film presents a stark moment of tragedy and a gradual loss of hope but has an ‘open’ ending that in a couple of ways is heart-breaking. This is a tough film and an angry film told in a straightforward way. It needs to be seen and I hope it moves audiences to think again about how Europe treats asylum seekers. In some ways, especially to do with the involvement of the French citizen Carole, the film is similar to Welcome (France 2009). French citizens face severe punishment for helping ‘illegal’ migrants. Like Welcome with Vincent Lindon, A Season in France has the presence of Sandrine Bonnaire, one of the best actors in France. I hope this will attract audiences in Europe. Eriq Ebouaney is very good as Abbas and I was interested to see his very long list of acting roles in French and international cinema. I had thought of Claire Denis’ 35 rhums (2009) because of the presentation of an African family in the grey suburbs of Paris, and especially the railway bridges and rail journeys. Ebouaney has a small part in that film and several others I’ve seen. It’s good to see him now in a lead role. A Season in France opens in France in February 2018. Somebody please pick it up for the UK.

You can download a Press Pack with excellent interviews and background from: http://mk2films.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/4/2016/08/pressbook-a-season-in-france.pdf

Welcome (France 2009)

Welcome

Welcome attracted over 1 million admissions in France in 2009 and was also successful in Italy for writer-director Philippe Lioret. It received won awards at festivals and prizes at competitions around Europe. However, in the UK, where part of the story is set, interest was negligible with only a few thousand admissions. Perhaps this was because the small distributor Cinefile had difficulty getting bookings – but was this in turn because of a reluctance to deal with narratives like this? The ‘Welcome’ of the title is deeply ironic and refers to the (presumably British?) doormat in a block of flats/apartments in Calais where the common greeting extended towards migrants attempting to reach the UK by crossing the Channel is anything but ‘welcoming’.

The narrative concerns two couples. Marion (Audrey Dana) and Simon (Vincent Lindon) are a French couple living in Calais. She is a teacher and an activist helping to run a support centre for asylum seekers. He is an ex-swimming champion now working as an instructor at a local pool. Their marriage has broken up, partly because he doesn’t share his wife’s commitment to helping asylum seekers. The other couple are also separated. Bilal (Firat Ayverdi) is a young Iraqi Kurd (17-18) trapped in Calais while his girlfriend Mina (Derya Ayverdi) is now living with her family in London where her father is a restaurant manager. Bilal makes one abortive (and traumatic) attempt to get to England using a people-smuggling gang and then seeks another way. He is a strong athlete who wants to become a professional footballer but now decides to attempt to swim the channel. Searching for a trainer to help him prepare he comes across Simon. Reluctant at first, Simon gradually takes to the boy and realises that by helping him he might have a chance of getting back with his wife. (Simon and Bilal communicate in English – the lingua franca of migrants in Europe.) This unlikely story is apparently based on something Lioret heard about in Calais and his meeting with a young man like Bilal when he spent time living with migrants and supporters. (See this interview with Philippe Lioret.)

Without these two love stories I wouldn’t have had a movie but a documentary about immigrants. I’ve seen many of these documentaries – and they have all been very good – but unfortunately I don’t think people are necessarily moved by them. If people are interested in my film, it’s because it speaks to them emotionally. (Philippe Lioret in the interview above.)

What Lioret says makes sense and I thought the film worked very well. I don’t want to spoil the storytelling by revealing the ending but I did find the central idea difficult. Swimming the Channel is challenging for the most experienced swimmers with full support and seemingly impossible to achieve ‘under cover’. Is this attempt meant to be ‘real’ or symbolic in terms of storytelling? While we are concerned that Bilal might undertake the journey, we are also made aware of the French law (L622-1) that makes it an offence to help illegal immigrants in France. Marion and her co-workers have to work carefully in relation to this law. Simon is more cavalier and risks imprisonment because of the way he acts.

Audrey Dana (Marion) and Vincent Lindon (Simon)

Audrey Dana (Marion) and Vincent Lindon (Simon)

Overall I think the film works in terms of the writing and performances, although I think it is sometimes difficult to have a well-known actor like Lindon alongside much less experienced young actors like Ayverdi. It works in terms of ‘trainer’ and ‘trainee’ but in other scenes it is difficult not to look at Lindon’s performance differently. (As I write this, Lindon’s performance in 2015’s The Measure of a Man which won the Cannes Acting Prize is being lauded on the film’s UK release.) I’m also now conscious of spotting actors like Thierry Godard, prominent in the TV cop show Engrenages shown on BBC4.

Bilal with his compatriots in the 'Jungle'

Bilal (Firat Ayverdi) with his compatriots in the ‘Jungle’

The subject matter of the film is now arguably even more compelling since the camp, ‘The Jungle’, in Calais is still there even though its profile in the UK news media is being eclipsed by the tragedy of migrant flows across the Mediterranean and by the furore about immigration deliberately inflamed by the ‘Leave’ campaign in the UK European Referendum. If this kind of story was to appear in the UK it would most likely be in the form of a documentary, possibly for television. The equivalent of a production like Welcome has not, as far as I can remember, happened in the UK since a trio of films by ‘name’ directors in the 2000s. Pawel Pawlikowski’s Last Resort (UK 2000), Michael Winterbottom’s In This World (UK 2002) and Nick Broomfield’s Ghosts (UK 2006). Any one of these would make a good choice for a comparative study with Welcome. It’s also worth noting that it took another French director, Rachid Bouchareb to make a film about the personal stories associated with an international tragedy in London River (France-Algeria 2009), which deals with the aftermath of the 7/7 bombings in London.

Philippe Lioret’s film perhaps focuses on the French couple too much for audiences whose first concern is the fate of the migrants. But the fate of both couples is important. Migrants, whether they are asylum seekers or simply ambitious people wanting the chance for what they perceive as a better life are not necessarily ‘victims’ or ‘heroes’ and those who attempt to help them do so for a range of reasons. The point of a humanist film is to represent all the characters in a story as who they are rather than as characters with specific narrative roles. Welcome is a film well worth seeing in the contemporary climate and it’s still available on DVD.