A film by Leyla Bouzid
With: Eya Bouteraa, Hiam Abbass, Marion Barbeau, Feriel Chamari
Back in Tunisia for her uncle’s funeral, Lilia reunites with a family that knows nothing about her life in Paris, particularly her romantic life. Determined to uncover the mystery behind her uncle’s sudden death, Lilia finds herself confronted with family secrets.
Our rate : ★★
It is difficult not to draw parallels between Hafsia Herzi‘s The Little Sister, which caused a sensation at Cannes, and Leyla Bouzid’s À voix basse, given the themes explored in both films. Leyla Bouzid, a Franco-Tunisian filmmaker, openly asks a question that is more important and universal than ever at a time when conservative thinking is gaining ground: is it still normal, in this day and age, in countries such as Tunisia, for homosexuality to be criminalized, considered a vice, or a psychological illness? À voix basse follows in the footsteps of its main character, Lilia, and introduces us to a family whose secrets are gradually revealed, prompting Lilia to assert herself and express her feelings and innermost thoughts.
Leyla Bouzid approaches her subject indirectly, delicately, without seeking to offend. She prefers nuance to heated protests and flashy demonstrations—she does not seek to judge, provoke, or enter into conflict with those who may not share her observations, but rather to encourage reflection and spread a message to those who are willing to hear it. She entrusts her voice to her lead actress, Eya Bouteraa, who sincerely and introspectively portrays Lilia, who is initially happy to be reunited with her family but who, by force of circumstance, finds herself affected by the repercussions of a seminal event. She becomes combative, eager to break a silence that has become oppressive, as it is too evocative of what is happening in society, of which she herself feels she is a victim. Multiple issues arise: no longer hiding, no longer accepting, expressing herself, asserting herself, questioning without fear or shame of being judged, without causing a family upheaval that she does not seek, without judging or accusing too harshly herself. She seeks to remain respectful of an older generation educated differently, to spare her loving grandmother, who is grieving the death of her son but so closed-minded on the issue of homosexuality that the whole family has preferred to keep her homosexuality a secret. Like Herzi’s approach in The Little Sister, which highlights the need for emancipation without seeking to offend or pit people against each other, Leyla Bouzid also embraces a spirit of reconciliation, of taking others into account, their opinions and their feelings.
The patient approach of In a Whisper rejects radicalism, but it does not shy away from showing varying states of mind, oscillating between anger, micro-renunciations, and the will to move forward, nor does it ignore the psychological consequences of the struggle or the repercussions on Lilia’s emotional life on a daily basis. Leyla Bouzid treats her subject seriously, but also, unfortunately, in a way that is relatively too linear, not to say academic. In a Whisper feels somewhat confined by a subject that takes precedence over form, which lacks singularity or depth. Where Herzi managed to follow in Kechiche’s footsteps, allowing truths to emerge in the midst of seemingly innocuous scenes, Bouzid is much closer to a Téchiné in poor form, didactic and diligent, who never leaves his audience without narrative reference points, guiding them constantly, to the detriment of the political power of the message. But then, as Wenders said, cinema shouldn’t be political, so…