Aïcha (2024) Film Review: Powerful Statement

Set in Tunisia after the revolution, Aïcha is a story of second chances and self-growth in the face of tragedy and despair.

Much like the news story, the movie raises questions about the gender-based discrimination in the country and the underlying issues that women face daily in one of the most modern and free countries in the Arab world.

Aïcha follows Aya (Fatma Sfar), a woman in her late twenties who lives with her parents in southern Tunisia. Working in a hotel and in a relationship that doesn’t make her happy, she feels trapped in a life she doesn’t want with very few prospects. But everything changes when, one day, the minivan she uses daily for her commute to her workplace crashes, leaving Aya as the sole survivor. This tragedy quickly turns into a new opportunity for Aya when she realises that no one knows she has survived. Determined to start a new life, she flees to Tunis with a new identity. However, her second chance at life might soon come to an end when she is involved as a witness to a police blunder investigated by chief police officer Farés (Nidhal Saadi).

From the very beginning, it is immediately clear that Aïcha is grounded in realism. The first shot introduces us to the context of the film with white intertitles over a black background, telling us that this story is “freely based on true events which occurred in Tunisia after the revolution.” The film keeps following this documentary-like style for its entire runtime, as it only includes diegetic music and mostly on-location shooting. This level of realism only makes the story feel even more tragic and dramatic in its most heartbreaking moment: it truly feels like we are watching a real-life story unfold in front of our eyes.

By shining a light on Aya’s life, the film poignantly analyses the condition of women and the matter of police corruption in Tunisia, both issues that many people in the audience may not be aware of. Thanks to a very impressive performance by Fatma Sfar, we cannot help but be on her side throughout the film and root for her until the very last shot. However, it is also heartbreaking to realise that the only way Aya can get a new life is by literally dying, at least according to everyone else around her. This is particularly interesting as the very title of the film, Aïcha, means alive in Arabic: Aya can only and truly be alive when she is dead in any way that actually matters.

One of the most fascinating scenes of the film is towards the end, when Aya confronts her parents about her upbringing and the expectations placed upon her. While this is a very emotional scene, it does fall a little flat as Aïcha had barely focused on Aya’s parents until then. The tight focus on the protagonist allows us to thoroughly understand and sympathise with her, but I do wish the other characters, especially her parents, were also explored rather than remaining largely two-dimensional. In the same way, I also wish the movie had shown us more of Aya’s past and background before the car crash as this would have added more depth to the new life she so desperately desires.

Overall, Aïcha is a beautiful film that deals with very important themes. Despite the very different issues it explores  – the internal problems within the police force may initially seem to have very little to do with the discrimination women face in the country – the film manages to explore all of them thoroughly, opening a window into what life looks like in Tunisia which many people in the audience may not be aware of before watching this film.

Aïcha had its World Premiere at the Venice Film Festival on September 5, 2024. Read our review of Iddu (Sicilian Letters)!