Tutti gli anni mi dico che non ci sarà bisogno di scrivere un post femminista in occasione della Festa della Donna, e tutti gli anni, regolarmente, mi tocca scriverlo.
Perché le notizie dal pianeta mondo non è che facciano proprio sognare, se sei una donna.
Questa volta mi viene particolarmente facile perché il 9 Marzo ho assistito all’avant-première di un bellissimo film, opera prima di una giovane regista israeliana, Maysaloun Hamoud, che ha come protagoniste assolute tre ragazze “come noi”: Bar Bahar (In Between/Je danserai si je veux/Libere disobbedienti Innamorate, e ci tengo a fare i complimenti a chi, in Italia, è riuscito a trovare un titolo così orrendo).
Layla, Salma e Nour, tre ragazze palestinesi, sono coinquiline in un appartamento di Tel Aviv. Layla è avvocato, una ragazza estremamente bella, libera, indipendente, a cui piace bere, fumare e fare festa. Salma è una DJ, lesbica, in fuga da una famiglia che tenta in ogni modo di trovarle un marito, e Nour studia informatica ed è molto religiosa, fidanzata ad un ortodosso che insiste per sposarla il prima possibile. Tutte e tre si troveranno ad affrontare situazioni difficili, legate agli uomini di cui sono innamorate, nel caso di Layla e Nour, attraverso le quali la loro amicizia si rinsalderà.
La condizione femminile è già abbastanza difficile per donne occidentali che vivono in paesi considerati più o meno evoluti, ma essere donne in alcuni luoghi di questa terra è una vera e propria sfiga e una continua lotta per la sopravvivenza.
Mi viene in mente la famosa frase che aveva dato il titolo ad un film di Ken Loach, Raining Stones: Sulla classe operaia piovono pietre sette giorni alla settimana, ma pure sulle donne continuano ad abbattersi disgrazie di ogni tipo, ammettiamolo.
Da Israele, mi dispiace dirlo, sono tante le storie tremende di donne che arrivano sugli schermi: penso ad esempio al recente e straordinario Gett (The Trial of Viviane Amsalem), della mai abbastanza compianta Ronit Elkabetz (e fa piacere sapere che il film della Hamoud sia stato prodotto da suo fratello, co-autore e co-regista di tutti i film della sorella, Shlomi Elkabetz).
I fratelli Elkabetz: Ronit e Shlomi
In questo senso, il film della Hamoud è esemplare: le tre ragazze del film sono ragazze normalissime, con desideri legittimi e sensati, ma si scontreranno con la mentalità retrograda e spesso subdolamente compiacente degli uomini e della società che le circondano. Nour, così evidentemente intelligente e piena di vita, costretta a subire il peggio da un uomo che si proclama pio e devoto e che, come tutti i pii e i devoti di questa terra (Dio ce ne scampi e ce ne liberi), nasconde le peggio perversioni e mostruosità. Salma che deve pensare ad una fuga come unica soluzione possibile per poter vivere la sua vita da lesbica, lontana da una famiglia che la vuole far sposare al primo cretino che passa per strada o, peggio, che la vuole morta quando scopre le sue inclinazioni sessuali, e infine Layla, forse la storia che fa più male. Perché Layla sembra aver trovato un ragazzo carino e “moderno”, uno che ha addirittura vissuto a NY, che sembra cool e libero, che la ama per quello che è, salvo poi, all’atto pratico, dimostrarsi l’ennesimo personaggio meschino. Preoccupato, giusto per fare un esempio, che la sorella, in contatto con Leila per avere un parere sul figlio beccato con della marijuana, la veda semplicemente fumare (sigarette normalissime, per altro).
In pratica, queste ragazze, per andare bene ai loro padri, fidanzati, e futuri mariti, e al mondo che loro così (in)degnamente rappresentano, dovrebbero cambiare, dovrebbero diventare altro, sottomettersi, rientrare nei ranghi, far finta di essere quello che non sono.
In nome del quieto vivere e della perpetuità di una società che le vuole inferiori agli uomini.
E questo è un discorso che vale in Israele ma che si potrebbe facilmente estendere, con più o meno cinquanta sfumature di grigio, a buona parte del resto del mondo.
La cosa davvero notevole da segnalare, è che nessuna di loro si tirerà indietro. Di fronte alla sfida, in mezzo a pianti e sofferenze, contando le une sulle altre, Layla, Salma e Nour affronteranno quello che devono affrontare.
Pagando il solito prezzo che le donne pagano a questo mondo per poter essere quello che sono, senza compromessi o ipocrisie: la solitudine.
Does this ring a bell, sisters?
I am really shocked by the news of Ronit Elkabetz’s death. Only 51 years old, this actress and film-maker from Israel was an intelligent, powerful, strong, interesting, beautiful woman who had still so much to give to cinema and life. This is utterly unfair.
I have fallen in love with her watching the movie Les mains libres by Brigitte Sy (2010) and I was absolutely crazy about the three movies she wrote and directed with her brother Schlomi, in particular aboutGett, The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, one of the best films of 2014.
Very recently, she was on Arte in the TV series Trepalium, where she was playing a cold, badass and super elegant Prime Minister.
That low and sexy voice, that burning black eyes, that long black hair… She was amazing.
I thought, once again, how much I loved her and how much we needed women like her in this world.
It really, really sucks that she is not with us anymore.
It is sad to realize we still need something called Women’s Day in the year 2016.
But this is the reality of things: the macho mentality is always around the corner, everywhere, with no exception, not to mention places (and there are many of them in this world) where women’s freedom simply doesn’t exist.
It sucks. It greatly sucks.
The other day I was reading an article about the female presence in cinema and television in the United States and in France and it was extremely depressing. The percentage of female film-makers, producers and screen writers is ridiculous, and when it comes to fields like cinematography or editing, simply forget about them!
Ida Lupino (courtesy of BFI)
Maggie Gyllenhaal, 38 years old, one of the best actresses in Hollywood, told the press she has recently been refused for a part in a movie since she was considered too old to be the love interest of her male counterpart, 50 years old!!! You gotta be kidding me, guys.
Some actresses, desperate about the too stupid and secondary roles they are constantly offered, have started to create their own production companies. It is of few days ago the news that Juliette Binoche and Jessica Chastain are creating one of those together.
And we don’t even mention the difference in salaries, of course!
J. Chastain&J.Binoche (courtesy of Madame Figaro)
If this is what happens in the so-called advanced world, of course the situation is much worse and often desperate in other parts of the world.
Last November, the Moroccan actress Loubna Abidar, who played the role of a prostitute in a film called Much Loved (by Nabil Ayouch), has been attacked outside a club in Casablanca by a group of men only because she played that part. She posted a video talking about this episode and about what happened to her when she went to the hospital and then to see the police: instead of being helped, she was basically told she deserved what she had.
She is now living in France to avoid death threats:
There are many movies talking about women’s conditions in difficult places: recent stories set in Iran, various parts of Africa, Middle East countries and even less suspicious countries.
I was personally shocked by the vision of a recent movie set in Israel, where a woman tries to get a divorce (yes, a simple divorce): in that country it could be granted just by rabbis and, useless to say, they are men who tend to give right to other men and not to listen to what women have to say (if you have the guts to see it, the movie is Gett - The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, by Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz, and Zazie already wrote a post about it):
Viviane Amsalem (magnificent Ronit Elkabetz)
Possibly the worst country on this planet where a woman could live is Saudi Arabia, where apparently cinema don’t exist (my idea of hell on earth) and where, in any case, women are not allowed to enter into theatres. In 2012, the female film-maker Haifaa Al-Mansour wrote and directed a wonderful movie called Wadjda (La bicicletta verde): it was the first feature length made by a female Saudi director (in 2012!!!) and the first feature film entirely shot in Saudi Arabia (I told you it was hell!). Because of the ridiculous restrictions placed on women in that country, the film-maker could not interact with her mostly male crew, and so she was obliged to direct the streets scenes from a van near the shooting locations, watching in a monitor and giving directing instructions via walkie-talkie. Unbelievable! But, hey, she made it (the shooting of The Revenant looks like a stroll in the countryside compared to this, don’t you think?).
When I saw Suffragette (by Sarah Gavron) few months ago, I was so impressed by what our sisters from the past had to endure to give us the right to vote, but I was even more disconcerted when I read that the so-considered very civilized Switzerland gave to women the right to vote in… 1971. WTF!!!
The other depressing aspect, it is the way female characters are often portrayed in movies made by men.
For one Jane Campion, there are hundreds David Fincher.
It is still so, so, so rare to see modern, complex, interesting, independent women portrayed in movies.
Things are changing, it is true, but fuck they are changing too slowly for my taste.
This is why I salute and I often writes about Stella Gibson, the main character of the TV series The Fall (series created by a men, Allan Cubitt, you see… there’s hope!) who is a beautiful, sexy, feminine, smart, badass, bi-sexual, single woman who doesn’t need any help from men but who, at the same time, doesn’t hide her fears and, best thing of all, doesn’t need to justify herself for being what she is.
I hope there will be more and more Stella Gibson on screen in the future.
Stella Gibson (Gillian Anderson)
I sometimes think about the scene in Zero Dark Thirty (by Kathryn Bigelow) when Maya is in a room full of men and they are saying to their boss where Bin Laden is hiding. And the moment she starts talking, the boss asks: who are you? And Maya answers back to him: I am the motherfucker that found this place, sir.
I still remember as a shock the first scene of the movie Kadosh, by Amos Gitaï, where a Jerusalem orthodox man is praying with these words: "Thank you God for sparing me the pain of being born a woman". This scene popped up in my mind the other day, when I had the chance to see the avant-première of the film Gett (The Trial of Viviane Amsalem) by Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz, even if the story is not set in Jerusalem among orthodox people but in Tel Aviv nowadays among Sephardic people of Moroccan origins. Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz are siblings. They have written and directed together a trilogy: To take a wife (2004), Shiva/The Seven Days (2008) and now this Gett, where they follow the life of a woman, Viviane, played by Ronit herself. I stupidly missed the first two movies, but now I am determined to see them all, because this last part is one of the most interesting and intense things I’ve recently seen on screen.
Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz
Viviane has been married to Elisha since she was very young: never a happy couple, they have been living separated for many years, and now Viviane would like to legally divorce. But in Israel civil marriage and civil divorce don’t exist. Only rabbis can legitimate a marriage and its dissolution, and this dissolution is only possible with full consent from the husband. Which, in this case (as in many others, I guess), is the difficult part. Viviane will have to wait for more than 5 years (!) from the moment of her first request and to endure an infinite, absurd and exhausting trial to finally see her wish satisfied. And not even completely…
Elisha (Simon Abkarian)
Viviane (Ronit Elkabetz)
It is quite amazing to seat for two hours watching the same room full of the same people talking about the same things, but this is exactly what you get from Gett. The entire world is reduced to this tribunal room where Viviane has to seat, months after months, listening to what the three rabbis, her husband, her husband’s brother, her lawyer, her sister, their neighbours, have to say about her and her life. As if, instead of a divorce, this would be a trial against Viviane herself. The woman, very often silent, looks in disbelief around her, almost crushed under the words she has to listen. Everybody’s right is taken into consideration here, besides her right to finally get what she is looking for: the divorce from a man she doesn't love any more. All the questions are for her, never for her husband: she is the one who has to explain why, even if her husband doesn’t beat her or doesn’t cheat on her (thanks very much!), she incredibly wants to divorce him.
Starting on a funnier note (the parade of witnesses, the altercations between the defenders), the film gets more and more asphyxiating and exasperating. To the point that you want to scream reading for the 15th time on the screen: 2 months later, 3 months later, 5 months later and all you see is the same, old scene (knowing nothing will change). The absurdity of the situation, the sense of frustration and impotence towards the rabbis’ judgemental attitude, the unbearable obstinacy of the husband, bring the audience, together with the female character, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. How is it possible that in a so-called modern society a woman is obliged to go through such an ordeal just to get a divorce? I’m sure this movie is more powerful on the subject than hundreds of essays. Confined in four walls, filmed in austere close-ups, all the actors are absolutely astonishing. Ronit Elkabetz, with her enigmatic beauty, stands out for her magnificent performance: when her rage finally explodes, you just want to embrace her and tell her you understand: she’s so unlucky to be born a woman in a place like that...
