Who Do I Belong To Review: A Mother’s Anguished Odyssey Through Mystical Horrors

Tunisian-Canadian director Meryam Joobeur burst onto the scene with her 2018 Oscar-nominated short film Brotherhood, which movingly portrayed a family torn apart by extremism. She brings that same emotional intensity to her first feature, Who Do I Belong To. This haunting drama finds Joobeur returning to similar thematic territory, examining how radicalization shatters a Tunisian farming family.

We open on a windswept rural village in northern Tunisia, where Aïcha (Salha Nasraoui) lives with her husband Brahim (Mohamed Hassine Grayaa) and young son Adam (Rayen Mechergui). Still reeling from her two elder sons joining ISIS, Aïcha’s grief deepens when one, Mehdi (Malek Mechergui) returns with a silent, pregnant wife in a niqab, Reem (Dea Liane). As tensions mount and sinister events plague the village, Aïcha struggles between protecting her son and uncovering the truth of what happened.

Crafted with lyrical visuals and textured performances, Who Do I Belong To promises a powerful, arresting look at the emotional fallout of extremism. Joobeur examines difficult themes around family, trauma, and belonging – filtered through the perspective of the women at the heart of this shattering tale.

Capturing Emotional Intimacy: The Visual Language of Who Do I Belong To

Joobeur reteams with cinematographer Vincent Gonneville from her previous short Brotherhood, with the duo embarking on a location scouting trip through northern Tunisia that informed the visual approach. Shooting in a nearly square 1.33:1 aspect ratio, Gonneville often pushes in tight on the actors’ faces, using shallow depth of field to create intense focus on eyes, expressions, and subtle emotions. Faces blur into abstraction, cheekbones and eyes emerging like dramatic landscapes.

This extreme intimacy visually reinforces the film’s central themes of family, motherhood, and feminine perspectives. We read entire inner lives in lead actress Salha Nasraoui’s stoic expressions as Aïcha, the cracks in her stony strength belying profound grief. In quiet scenes of domesticity, Gonneville’s extreme close-ups suggest hidden depths and bonds grown taut to the point of breaking.

The camera lingers on Reem in similar fashion, her striking green eyes and veiled visage haunting the frame. Actress Dea Liane reveals flickers of trauma and danger, even as Reem refuses speech. Gonneville’s focus on the female characters creates visual empathy and psychological proximity amidst the uneasy family dynamics. Meanwhile. the shallow depth of field injects shots with latent dread, as if darkness encroaches on the edges of their existence.

Through poetic close-ups and intimate camerawork, Who Do I Belong To forges an emotional and thematic alliance with its women that resonates across the film’s distinctly gorgeous images.

Windswept Vistas and Stirring Performances

Cinematographer Vincent Gonneville lenses the rural Tunisian setting with a haunting beauty. Situated on a farm near the seaside cliffs, natural light catching waves and swaying trees, the village possesses a rugged loveliness amidst its isolation and economic hardship. This only amplifies the emotional desolation when grief comes to roost.

Shots often find characters set against this windswept landscape, dwarfed visually just as they struggle against forces beyond their control. There is grace, however, in routine moments together – sharing meals, tending livestock, familial intimacy. Gonneville’s exquisite compositions communicate place as much as psychological terrain.

Anchoring the film is Salha Nasraoui in a breakout performance as matriarch Aïcha, her riveting expressions saying as much as dialogue. She wears authority and heartbreak in equal measure. Mohamed Hassine Grayaa exudes a patriarch’s wounded pride as her husband Brahim, while young Rayen Mechergui effortlessly conveys innocence as their youngest son Adam. Rounding out the cast is Adam Bessa’s gentle turn as a surrogate son of sorts, and Dea Liane’s cryptic scene-stealing as the silent, traumatized Reem.

With seasoned actors like Nasraoui and non-professionals like the Mechergui brothers surrounding Liane, Joobeur strikes a balance between raw authenticity and emotional precision.

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Shades of Grief and Shades of Horror

At its core, Who Do I Belong To centers Aïcha, a mother striving to shield her fractured family from further pain. Still mourning her elder son Amine’s presumed death, when prodigal son Mehdi returns unexpectedly, hope and heartache vie within her soul. Any reunion carries shame and danger, as the young men fled to join ISIS, now hunted by authorities. Yet parental love overrides all, and Aïcha convinces her husband Brahim to let Mehdi and his silent, pregnant wife Reem stay on their farm to have the baby.

Psychological realism gives way to ominous supernatural overtones, however, as Mehdi’s presence seems to unleash darkness plaguing the village. Farm animals grow violently ill, some townsfolk inexplicably vanish, and Aïcha begins having visions hinting at an unnatural, sinister side to Reem. Malevolent mysticism creeps around the edges, suggesting ancient evils and primal retribution.

The central narrative thus evolves into a ghost story of sorts – a reckoning driven by the restless dead seeking justice and understanding. As much about legacy as immediate danger, Amine’s fate lingers as accusations swirl about Mehdi. Throughout this emotional maze, the question of family bonds and generational responsibility hangs over their rural Tunisian setting, now corrupted by encroaching evil. Who pays for ancestral sins? Who mourns those lost to extremism’s seductive call? Whom do any of them truly belong to anymore?

In lyrical moments, however, humanity glimmers amidst inhuman acts and the inexorable passage of time. The intimacy of shaving a father’s face, the joy and anguish written on a mother’s own. Even in darkness, Who Do I Belong To reminds what last vestiges we cling to.

Festival Premiere and Sales Prospects

Who Do I Belong To held its world premiere in-competition at the 2024 Berlin International Film Festival, a prestigious platform from which to launch onto the global stage. Early reviews praised Meryam Joobeur’s visual flair and thematically ambitious storytelling, even if some felt the supernatural swerve in the third act undercuts the family drama.

Nonetheless, the film promises sales traction given the rising profile of films examining extremism’s impact on Muslim families. Recent acclaimed examples like Rachid Bouchareb’s Road to Istanbul and André Téchiné’s Farewell to the Night also centered parental struggles coming to terms with a radicalized child. Festival standout Four Daughters took a documentary approach to the same wounding dilemma for Tunisian mothers.

While not shying away from horrifying truths, Who Do I Belong To arguably resonates for humanizing victims on all sides rather than preaching or politicizing. Joobeur crafts intimate spaces wherepolarization gives way to nuanced grief. There is artistry here likely to intrigue specialty distributors seeking singular voices tackling universal wounds. As a calling card for the young director, it heralds a striking talent arrived.

Haunting and Humane: An Arresting New Talent

For all its supernatural swerves, Who Do I Belong To derives haunting power from earthbound emotional truths. Meryam Joobeur has crafted an aching tone poem about loss – of homeland, of kinship, of peace of mind. Tunneling into one mother’s fight against fate, it uncovers universals about family resiliency and the things we cling to when all else unravels.

The film falters somewhat when drifting from stark realism into ghost story terror, but perhaps these genre nods further externalize inner demons – guilts and regrets made flesh. While more straightforward drama may have wrung clearer catharsis, Joobeur’s bold style shows a director unwilling to play safe. This young talent still developing her gifts has nonetheless arrived with confidence.

Who Do I Belong To demands an audience ready to be immersed in its windswept lyricism and haunted psychology. Fans of magical realism or socially conscious thrillers should appreciate Joobeur’s audacious vision, as should fans of recent festival hits about extremist violence back home. Anchored by Salha Nasraoui’s mesmerizing lead performance, this dreamlike Tunisian tragedy heralds a rising creative voice in world cinema.

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