Harka

A young man in Tunisia steps up to care for his younger sisters following the death of their father in Lotfy Nathan's electrifying drama.

Few recent examples of opening narration have laid out so foreboding a mission statement for the film that follows as that which starts Tunisian drama Harka. Over various establishing shots, a young woman’s voice tells a tale passed on to her by her brother. Way out in the desert, a lake apparently appeared out of nowhere one morning. Producing crystal clear water, its seemingly perfect qualities attracted visitors from far away just to see or swim in it. No one questioned the apparent miracle, as the locals, we’re told, believe in the possibility of magic.

The stage is set for a story with a possible bent of magical realism. But the narrator quickly dispels that notion. Months on from the miracle spot’s beginnings as a tourist attraction, someone learned it was in fact a sinkhole filled up with run-off from a nearby phosphate mine. Despite this revelation, people still came; still swam. But then the water turned black, finally making people understand the full extent to which they were wallowing in poison. Cut to opening credits.

One way to interpret this short story is as an encapsulation of refusing to let go of faith in the outwardly positive mirage of change, even when learning of negative underpinnings. Another is as an example of how people can refuse to properly acknowledge a rot in their society until an absolute worst-case scenario is staring them right in the face.

Both seem applicable to the wider narrative of Harka, which explicitly takes place a decade on from the Arab Spring. It grapples with a generation’s frustration at its failed promise, while also drawing several parallels with the fate of Mohamed Bouazizi. In December 2010, his self-immolation, in response to the confiscation of his wares and harassment from authorities, became one of the catalysts for the Tunisian Revolution and wider Arab Spring.

Harka chronicles what sort of burning despair might drive someone to become a burning martyr, with a blend of claustrophobic character study and sociopolitical thriller – Eli Keszler’s thrashing percussive score helps considerably with the latter. At the centre is a remarkable powder-keg performance from Adam Bessa as Ali, a young man who barely makes a living selling contraband petrol on street corners, spending his nights in an abandoned building site.

Saving cash to move to Europe, he’s forced to abandon his plans when his father dies and his young sisters back home need a guardian. And with the gaining of the patriarch’s responsibilities also comes the passing on of his various debts. All of Ali’s attempts at progression, both legitimate and increasingly criminal, are impeded at every turn. Virtually no person of higher social status seems unwilling to rob a man at his lowest; be it of the minimal coins in his pocket or the last traces of his hope.

Writer-director Lotfy Nathan’s both electrifying and truly sad fiction feature debut is quite clearly never leading to a happy resolution. But the rightful rage of its commentary is articulated with such clarity and specificity that it circumvents any accusations of ‘misery porn’.

Published 3 May 2023

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