At a film festival, there’s always one that didn’t appear on the cinephile radar, but which, due to its unexpected impact, immediately becomes one of those works that you want to talk to everyone about. Unveiled as a world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), Before the flames go out, by Mehdi Fikri, constitutes such a case. This story of a family from the suburbs of Strasbourg in search of justice after one of their sons had died at the hands of police officers, also sticks in a disturbing way to current events in France where, after the riots that occurred in the Following the death of young Nahel Merzouk, many arrests are taking place these days. However, if the filmmaker could not have predicted that his fiction would come close to reality to this extent, the thing unfortunately does not surprise him too much.
Indeed, as the film reminds us by means of archive videos during the end credits, demonstrations provoked by similar cases, there have been others in France. And it turns out that Mehdi Fikri knows something about it.
“When I was a journalist at Humanitya left-wing newspaper, police and judicial affairs, and everything that affected working-class neighborhoods, that was my domain,” explains the man who converted to cinema in 2019.
“My parents were political activists,” he continues. And even though I joke that they missed all the fights of their generation, their commitment helped me build myself. The question of political transmission has fascinated me for a long time. My first short films were already about that [voir Descente, sélectionné à Venise en 2021]. The desire for a political initiation story is very old for me. »
In this first feature film, we follow Malika (Camélia Jordana), the eldest of the clan. By her own admission, not at all politicized before the events, Malika became the one who led the charge against the authorities. Which maintain an opacity around the exact nature of the events leading to the death of Karim, the younger brother.
“I was inspired to write when I saw the film 120 beats per minute, which relates a real political struggle, but with fictional characters. From the outset, it was impossible for me to try to address the issue of police violence in its entirety, because it is a struggle that has no end. I chose instead to focus on the arc of a family, through one of the sisters. »
Lumet’s influence
Mehdi Fikri was also driven by a desire to show politics in a positive light: “In cinema, politics almost always rhymes with corruption, sadness or working-class melancholy,” he summarizes.
In Before the flames go out, the more Malika learns about political (and media) workings, the more her horizon broadens. But this does not happen without problems.
Because within the family, there are differences of opinion. Some want to create a popular movement, while others prefer to bury Karim quickly. Everyone has their reasons, which are nonetheless valid. Nothing is simple. Moreover, even the secondary characters, like this activist who comes to provide his not at all disinterested support to the family, have depth.
Obviously, Malika dominates in complexity and contradictions. We will learn that the truth is known and justice is done for her brother, has a doubly personal dimension for her. In fact, it was Malika’s initiative that Karim, for having gotten himself into trouble for the umpteenth time, was rejected by his family shortly before the tragedy.
It is therefore partly to redeem herself that Malika goes ahead and persists, risking business and relationships.
“For filmmaker Sidney Lumet, one of the fundamental questions for the protagonists is: “What price am I willing to pay in order to be able to look at myself in a mirror?” “. I am thinking, among other things, of The Verdict [Le verdict ; 1982]. It is the coherence of an injustice and an intimacy. For me, bringing together the political and the intimate was fundamental. »
To return to Karim and his troubled past, the fact that he was “known to police circles” contributes to this refusal of any Manichaeism in the film.
“There, I’m going to quote James Baldwin, and then I’ll stop with the name-droppingpromise,” says Mehdi Fikri, laughing.
“Baldwin says: ‘You have to be hard on your own people.’ No one is a saint in this story. But even if the little brother was a delinquent, that doesn’t mean he deserved to die. »
For the record, this is one of the reasons which pushed Mehdi Fikri to resort to fiction: he considered it imperative not to be influenced, or to feel obliged towards the members of a real family who had suffered. .
Carried by the subject
Although fictional, the film nonetheless gives off an impression of complete authenticity. Shot with a nervous camera, on the lookout, always quick to capture the emotional content of the moment – dismay, muted frustration, fleeting joy – the film convinces at every turn.
“It was a shoot that took place very quickly: we didn’t have much time, and very little money. The subject of the film appealed to us all. There was a physical investment, from the whole team. »
It must be noted that the performers, especially Camélia Jordana, are absolutely truthful.
“I was often overwhelmed by the actresses and actors during filming. As someone who comes from a writing background, I admit I wasn’t prepared for this. »
Speaking of writing, Mehdi Fikri explains that, despite a hyper-documented script, he remained open to everything on set. Some memorable passages depend on this approach.
“There is this moment when the professional activist [Samir Guesmi] delivers this monologue to Malika. We improvised this sequence during filming, but from a real source. I had in my archives, since 2015, an extract from a TV interview with an activist. I was so fan of what Samir brought to the film, that I wanted to give him more. So I adapted that for his character, during a break, and we filmed right after. »
The scene where the little sister (Sonia Faidi) smokes joints while crying in the arms of two friends was created in situ also.
“These two girls lived in the city where we were filming. After two weeks, they came to me saying: “Mehdi, please put us in your film! » They looked too much, you see, so I said: “OK”. I love this moment in the film. Cinema is also the art of knowing how to adapt, of knowing how to recognize something good when it presents itself. »
Telling solidarity
When asked if, from the start, the main character was Malika, rather than a brother, father or mother, the director agrees.
“Men die and women fight […] We start with a heroine who is in disagreement with her family regarding the course of action, and who is in silence, and we end with a heroine who has managed to unite her family around her and to speak up. »
Mehdi Fikri, feminist filmmaker?
“It’s not up to me to be a feminist: I don’t have to take ownership of this fight. However, building a female character was something that was close to my heart. In France, people of color in fiction and the media have several functions. One of these functions is to provide a space where people can still enjoy virilism, the wild side, grrr…: that’s also what suburban cinema in France is like,” laments the director.
“Conversely, to have a wife, who owns a business that works well, who has a teenage daughter, a husband, in short, who is a daronne, as we say back home, that appealed to me enormously. . You know, there are lots of clichés about Arabs in France, including the one that says it’s a war between the sexes; that men hate women and that women only think about running away from their families… I wanted to tell the story of solidarity,” concludes Mehdi Fikri.
The film Before the flames go out is released in France on November 15, but does not yet have a distributor in Quebec. François Lévesque is in Toronto thanks to the support of Telefilm Canada.