The Damned Don't Cry

The setting for British-Moroccan director Fyzal Boulifa’s latest feature may be radically different from the kitchen sink spaces of his debut drama Lynn + Lucy but it carries with it further contemplation of class structures and the way that people’s closest relationships can often prove to be the most toxic.

Also, as with his first film - which saw him street cast Roxanne Scrimshaw in one of the title roles - he has looked to non-professionals this time around. The charismatic Aïcha Tebbae proves to be a real discovery in the role of Fatima-Zahra, a mother who has a complex relationship with her teenage son Selim (Abdellah El Hajjouji). The pair carry their lives around with them in a collection of large bags, moving just another part of their established routine and one triggered, at the start of the film, by an attempt by her to get money for the rent ending in violence.

There’s a resilience to Fatima-Zahra, which Boulifa suggests is born out of a life where self-worth may be the only thing you have in the face of an uncaring community. “People love to talk about me,” she tells Selim. “It’s the story of my life.” Her assertion is in contrast to the impoverished reality, which sees the pair of them travelling to her father’s house in a bid to regroup. The reunion is lukewarm and worsens after Selim hears an unwelcome piece of news about their past. This leads to the first real crack in the relationship between them.

Up till this point, the pair present as a unit, but from here on in the film opens out into dual study - showing how Selim attempts to spread his wings as Fatima-Zahra also adopts a fresh persona as they arrive in Tangier. She gains the attractions of a bus driver Moustapha (Moustapha Mokafih), a married Muslim with a focus on faith. Selim meanwhile finds himself falling in with middle-class Frenchman Sebastian (Antoine Reinartz), whose motives are not entirely altruistic.

As with Boulifa’s first film, much here is built not upon what a specific character does but on another character’s reaction to that. Much of what Selim does, for example, is motivated not specifically by his own desire to do something but his need to produce a reaction from his mother or, as relationships and dependencies shift, Sebastian. Equally, Fatima-Zahra is seen to try to sculpt her own image in reaction to what she believes Moustapha wants. Even when things seem to be going well for the pair, the score from Nadah El Shazly - which often offers an almost horror film discordance - strikes a sobering note.

There’s humanity here and tragedy too, but even if Boulifa suggests that people like Fatima-Zahra and Selim can never truly gain the upper hand, he makes sure that we notice their struggle.