Mehdi Barsaoui’s Aïcha rethinks the family model in the Arab world

With his debut family thriller A Son (2019), which also began its international journey from Venice and featured the acclaimed actor Sami Bouajila in the lead role — winning the Best Actor award in the Orizzonti section — Mehdi Barsaoui has established himself as a prominent director.

His talent lies in blending psychological and socio-political depth with intriguing plot twists and the dynamics of genre cinema, thus creating films that not only keep viewers hooked but also offer relevant insights into the local realities from which his stories emerge.

Changing identity and starting from scratch are central narrative lines in Aïcha. However, beneath the catchy premise, the film delves into themes of complex family ties, mutual dependence, and state-level corruption.

The main character, Aya, played by Fatma Sfar — who brings a combination of powerful presence and performative discretion to her role — is a woman in her late twenties living with her parents in southern Tunisia.

Feeling trapped in a life with no future, burdened by her parents' expectation that she will help pay off the family debts, and entangled with a married lover, she unexpectedly gets a second chance.

One day, the minivan she takes to commute between her hometown and the hotel where she works crashes, and all passengers are declared dead. However, she is the only unnoticed survivor of the accident, which gives her the unique opportunity to start anew.

Aya escapes to Tunis, assuming a new identity as Amira, but her fresh start is quickly threatened when she becomes the key witness to a police blunder. Aïcha, which, in literal Arabic, means alive, is still to be born.

The film was based on a true story, so when asked about what drew him to the destiny of a woman who changed her identity, Mehdi Barsaoui explained that it was her courage that captivated him.

"I don't know if it's courage or madness or just a moment of madness, but it was really interesting," he reflects.

What intrigued him most was the profound question the woman posed to herself: "What if I test the love of my parents?"

He continues, "How can you test the love of someone? We hear this a lot, like, 'If you love me, you have to prove it.' The courage of this woman really impressed me, especially considering our Arab culture, where parents are like gods."

To fake her own death and attend her own funeral — it looked like something monumental in his eyes. "I wanted to explore that starting point, that courage," he shares.

However, rather than making a documentary about the real person, he decides to distance himself from the true story and create his own character.

"I didn't want to make a documentary trying to understand why this woman did what she did. Simply retelling the past wasn't interesting to me."

The inspiration for his film came unexpectedly. "In November 2019, while I was promoting my first feature, I heard about the prototype’s story and was intrigued, but I didn't know it would become my second feature film," he says.

Then, a significant personal event turned his attention toward the story in a new way: "When I found out my wife was pregnant with a daughter, everything clicked. I started imagining, what if one day my daughter did something like that to her parents?"

This question became the foundation for his entire creative process.

His exploration became deeply personal, particularly when considering his future role as a parent. "I began thinking about my responsibilities as a parent, how my relationship with my daughter might unfold," he admits.

"The film came from a personal place and was also shaped by the context of the pandemic, which made things very complicated. I was really afraid of the idea, 'What if one day my daughter did the same thing this woman did?' That fear and those questions were what drove me to start writing."

Interestingly, the film is not told from the perspective of a parent, which might seem surprising given its roots.

"I didn't want to judge my characters," Barsaoui clarifies. "I wanted to understand them, including the parents. It's not the fault of just one person; it's more complicated than that. In our culture, parents have sort of a divine status.

"The mother, for example, says, 'I sacrificed myself,' which reflects generations of expectations and cultural norms. The father is supposed to be strong, taking responsibility for everything, and when he fails, everything around him collapses."

This dynamic of family failure is a crucial aspect of his film. "In our society, especially in Arab countries, there's a strong emphasis on family unity," he explains.

"If one person fails, the entire family feels the weight of that failure. There isn't as much emphasis on individual responsibility. Parents are seen as models, and when that model collapses, everything falls apart around them."

This complex family structure is particularly evident in the film's depiction of the relationship between the daughter and her parents.

When asked why the daughter reconciles with the father but not the mother, he replies, "I wanted to portray a different side of the Arab family dynamic. Usually, the father is seen as strong, while the mother is depicted as emotionally fragile. I didn't want to fall into that cliché."

In his film, the father is almost mute, speaking very little because he feels he has failed and sees his failure everywhere. "His wife started working, his smart daughter is now working in a hotel — his failure is visible in all aspects of his life."

He felt it was essential to depict the father's weakness because it is rare in their culture. "I wanted to allow him to step down from dominance," Barsaoui notes, "but his defeat is also a gift to his daughter because, in a way, it enables her to be free and to break away."

This moment marks the beginning of the daughter's journey toward freedom. "Her real journey begins when she has to face reality and assume her choices," the director explains.

"She thinks that changing her identity and escaping to a new place is freedom, but the real journey starts when she confronts her past and takes responsibility for her decisions."

While exploring personal freedom, second chances, and responsibility, Aïcha also carries a political message as it exposes police corruption.

Barsaoui considers that the events of 2011 were a pivotal moment in Tunisia's history, awakening political consciousness among the youth and reclaiming the republic.

Though the road to full democracy remains long, and abuses continue, he believes it is crucial to denounce these issues.

“It is in the name of a very hard-won freedom of expression that we must continue the fight, denouncing while we still can, for our successful democratic transition so that we can pass on to our children the hope of a better future and a better society,” he states.

Although there is no confirmed premiere date for Tunisia, Mehdi Barsaoui is eager to see how the film will be received in his native land.

"I'm really optimistic but also curious," he shared. "I can't wait to share it with the local audience and see their reactions."

Mariana Hristova is a freelance film critic, cultural journalist, and programmer. She contributes to national and international outlets and has curated programs for Filmoteca De Catalunya, Arxiu Xcèntric, goEast Wiesbaden, etc. Her professional interests include cinema from the European peripheries and archival and amateur films