Honey Cigar review: A compassionate but cautious French drama on women’s desire for freedom

3/5

STORY: Proud of her Algerian ancestry, Selma puts up a brave front amid parental control, peer pressure and her own sensuality in 1993 Paris.

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REVIEW: “I am not unique, I am double,” says 17-year-old Parisian Selma Merabet (played by Zoé Adjani), whose conservative Algerian lineage and her urge to mingle in France’s liberating vibes foreground Kamir Aïnouz’s directorial debut, Honey Cigar. A breathy, hypnotic soundscape and throbbing animation lead you into this female-centred drama that has its heart in the right place, but a poor script and not-so-deep characterisation weaken the impact.

The camera stays close to Selma through the 1-hour-40-minute course. What starts off as an account of overbearing parents trying to control their teenage daughter and constantly worrying about her getting ‘deflowered’, blossoms into a narrative of intrepid adventures of a young woman’s sexual desires, while not giving up on the heritage of her homeland. Residing in a plush neighbourhood in Paris, Selma’s lawyer father (Lyès Salem) and gynaecologist mother (Amira Casar), who is now a homemaker, are only outwardly forward-thinking. Inside closed doors, it’s a typical patriarchal set up, where dinners and get-togethers are hosted to find their daughter a suitable match. Her father keeping a tab on her whereabouts only adds to her mother’s recurrent anxieties. She is torn between her familial responsibilities and her desire to go back to Tizi Ouzou and serve her people.

The plot is set around the time of the Algerian Civil War in the early 1990s, so references to the North African nation’s political upheaval are rife. Paralleling that is Selma’s own battle navigating her sexual awakening, expectations from parents and peer pressure at the business school, where she is trying to blend in with the crowd only to be trivialised as “a frightened virgin”; “she’s full of talk, but never does anything”. Eventually though, she finds comfort in the company of classmate Julien (Louis Peres) in what can be described as a welcome turn in the storyline. The dynamics quickly shifts again to see her trapped in a non-consensual sexual encounter with a prospective match, investment banker Luka (Idir Chender). This particular episode could have been dealt in a better way - not suggesting that it’s obvious for men to make unwanted sexual advances and for women to move on after that.

The movie’s colour palette is mindfully done - juxtaposing the moody, honey-hued interiors of Parisian homes and the undulating blue terrains of Algerian landscape. Food again is an important character - be it glimpses into the making of the quintessential Moroccan honey and almond cigars or Selma eating a pear cactus down a hill slope.

Despite its wimpy moments, the vulnerabilities of ‘headstrong’ women are succinctly handled in the film. Be it Selma who takes a stand for herself even when she is scraping the bottom of the barrel or her mother who gathers the strength to follow her heart in mid-life or her grandmother who refuses to leave Kabylia no matter what. So, is it a poignant feminist script? You’ll have to decide that. Is it a story every woman can relate to, however remotely? Yes.

VERDICT: The contradictions between cultures and choices may put you off at certain junctures, but Honey Cigar is worth watching at least once for Zoé Adjani, who boldly dabbles in the layers of Selma’s character.

*Reema Gowalla is an independent arts and culture journalist, who mostly writes about theatre and independent cinema, and sometimes also dives into culinary heritage.