Under the Fig Trees

Developed alongside her cast of non-professional actors, Erige Sehiri builds an intimate fiction debut set in the Tunisian countryside.

Set over the course of a summer’s working day in a fig orchard in rural Tunisia, Erige Sehiri’s pastoral fiction debut follows a group of seasonal labourers in a paradise they have made but do not own. As with Carla Simon’s Alcarràs, the story at the centre of Under the Fig Trees is set on the supply end of the global consumption chain, and focuses on a microcosm of small yet significant moments of beauty and trepidation exchanged amongst an ensemble of fruit harvesters.

For the youngsters, a long day of work at the orchard entails climbing trees and locating ripe figs, whilst the older women sit under the shade, carefully packing the produce into crates. Figs are a tough crop to harvest, and the process is a delicate and tricky one, for the branch of a fig tree is more fragile than one would assume. To reach the fruit, the branches must be tugged gently to ensure that they don’t snap.

The French-Tunisian filmmaker brings a gentle, free-flowing naturalism to a tale about summer flirtations, chance encounters, petty crime and budding womanhood, trading the airy openness of wide shots for the confinement of hand-held medium shots and tight close-ups of her ensemble cast of non-professional actors. Organic chemistry buoys their unguarded interactions, and the shade under the densely planted, sun-dappled trees provides a ripe backdrop for casual flirting to take place away from the strict confines and prying eyes of the youth’s villages. Courtship rituals play out as two ex-lovers who had been separated for years tentatively reconnect amidst the trees. Another woman tries to connect with her paramour as they plan their next meeting to take place at a supermarket yoghurt aisle.

When we first meet Fidé, arguably the most head-strong, progressive woman of the bunch, she is in the passenger seat of the vehicle that transports the workers to the orchard. The fact that she has a seat in the truck, as opposed to standing in the cargo bed with the rest of the workers, is a subject of gossip alone. Fidé knows that the boss’ attentions are not motivated by professionalism. She’s well aware that he plucks the girls as if they were his fruit, and when matters like sexual harassment are brought to the fore, Sehiri’s suggestive, rather than explicit approach, is as sharp a denouncement of patriarchal violence as any.

Though the young women make up the majority of the workforce, their dynamic and rapport with the men and few elderly women add an intriguing texture to the film’s delineation of a contemporary Tunisian portrait. While the young bicker, gossip, fight, and discuss relationships and aspirations, the interactions between the older women are either limited to their ailments, or simply marked by silence.

There’s no revelling in reductive “tradition vs modernity” fodder to explore how these young Tunisian women are navigating their burgeoning sexualities against such complex socio-cultural anxieties. Sehiri’s intimate focus, especially in the film’s closing sequence, allows the film to bloom into a warm and tender embrace of the underlying sisterhood and camaraderie between a coterie of young women that refuse to be seen as a monolith.

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Published 16 May 2023

Tags: Erige Sehiri Under the Fig Trees