Walud

Bluesky

In a remote part of Syria, war and law seem distant. The sound of fighting is carried in on the wind, along with the call to prayer but middle-aged Amuna (Salha Nasraoui) is sufficiently far from the thick of it that she can rebel, at least a little bit, against her ISIS fighter husband Aziz (Saleh Bensaleh) by opting for a traditional headscarf and dress rather than the full covering of a burqa. What to do, though, when he brings home a new wife (Vera Fay)? The title, which is derived from the Arabic word “to give birth” and which is often used to refer to fertility, indicates at least some of the reason for the incomer – after all, in the toxic masculine world of ISIS, whose fault could it be but a woman’s?

This may be a short film but co-writers and co-directors Daood Alabdulaa and Louise Zenker take their time to build the world where Amuna and Aziz live. Tunisia’s scrappy countryside doubles for Syria, which given that the pair are living in isolation, is not too difficult a sell. We spend some time with Amuna before her husband’s arrival, allowing us time to tune in to her rhythm. This isn’t just a story that reflects upon the Syrian situation under ISIS, with its plot developments showing the web of connections that exist between what happens there and western Europe.

The filmmakers ensure the relationship between the husband and wife remains complex, the weight of all that has passed between them before the rise of ISIS leaving the power dynamic much less cut and dried than that between Aziz and his new wife. Nasrauoi is a skilled performer, who is on the rise, with recent appearances in the likes of Red Path and Who Do I Belong To?. She conveys the determination of Amuna but her body language also allows the inner turmoil her character feels to smoulder and flicker beneath. The sound design from Andrew Mottl is on point and blends well with the sparse but evocative scoring from Arezou Rezaei. Henri Nunn also shows cinematographic skill, whether he is moving with Amuna as she carries a pail of milk or inventively capturing the more static moments within the family home.

Walud feels like a full and complete narrative but it's also easy to imagine a scaled up storyline set within this world.

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