Critic and journalist Bilal Marmid on Nabil Ayouch’s latest film, “Everybody Loves Touda,” where he recreates the story of the Moroccan art of Aita through the journey of a Cheikha.
“In a field like cinema, being creative is not enough; in our time, it’s essential to know how to make a film and, more importantly, how to sell it. It’s tough to accept that you’re a diligent artist if only those close to you watch your film, with applause coming only from your mother, wife, and a few friends. Nabil Ayouch makes films and sells them in the best markets, for those who shape global cinema to watch them. This noteworthy detail sets the stage for discussing his new work, “Everybody Loves Touda.”
The film, which premiered at the Debussy Theater, opens with a scene where a villager crowd surrounds Touda, played by Nisrin Erradi, who aspires to earn the title of “Cheikha” in Aitamusic with merit. This introduction immerses Touda into the world of Aita, ending with her fleeing the ceremony, pursued through the forest by men who view a Cheikha as a body meant to fulfill their desires after every celebration. Touda gets raped, mends her wounds, and returns home to her special-needs son who awaits her return every night, or rather, in the early hours of each morning. He is her motivation to continue her journey and fight to earn their daily bread.
Nisrin Erradi, proves once again that she is one of our finest actresses, especially since Toudarepresents the film, and the film represents Touda.
Ayouch places Aita music at the forefront of the film, but not in a flattering light. It’s a backdrop against which Touda battles her surroundings: the perils of nightlife, an undervalued art form, and the physical and psychological toll it takes on her. Despite this, Touda remains determined, driven by her desire to prove herself artistically and ensure the education of her son Yassine, in schools that often lack resources for children with special needs.
Nisrin Erradi, accompanied by notable names including Jalila Talemsi, Abdalhak Belmjahed, and Amine Ennaji, opens the film, which revolves around her miserable daily life. The film culminates in a sequence shot, lasting several minutes, where she is seen taking an elevator to an upper floor, performing at an event in Casablanca, and then leaving with tears mixed with a smile. All her dreams of becoming a prominent artist in this genre have been buried by many experiences. While Aita music is celebrated in our media, the situation of Aita artists is pitiful, and Touda exemplifies this.
In the film, despite the presence of music, singing, and dancing, the viewer scarcely finds a rhythm until the final part. The camera frequently zooms in on faces because expressions say a lot—fake smiles and fleeting joy soon give way to imposing sorrow. This duality is present in both parts of the film: the first part, dedicated to depicting a segment of Touda’s daily life, and the second part, where the protagonist embarks on a journey to prove herself in Casablanca.
Touda faces opposition in her relationship with her brother, who disapproves of her situation, and conflict with club-goers, club owners, and colleagues, whose initial competitive relationships turn into enmity, forcing her to seek new places to showcase her talent.
Touda seeks to learn, master the art of Aita, and gain recognition; she wants to deserve the title of “Cheikha” in a genre that began with the struggling cries of resistance cutting through mountains, fighting the occupier, and has become the mere cries of pain housed in cabarets and, at best, some private parties and weddings.
Touda’s life is a tragedy, although many claim to love her fleetingly. In this film, Nabil Ayouchshifts from shedding light on various actors in his previous works to entrusting the lead role to Nisrin Erradi, who once again demonstrates her ability to diversify her performance within the same scene and in every scene of the film.
Did the director succeed in conveying genuine emotions to the audience? It’s hard to say, and it’s not necessary for all viewers to agree. What’s important to me is that he explored Aitamusic, drawing conclusions that he conveyed through a film that will be widely viewed once it reaches theaters. As I said in the first lines, in cinema, it’s not enough to be creative; you need to know how to make and sell a film.
Nabil Ayouch returned to the Cannes Film Festival, presenting the world premiere in the “Cannes Première” category. Now, Touda’s journey through international festivals begins, to be seen by cinema lovers worldwide. Some will applaud, others will critique, some will welcome it, and others will attack it, reducing the film to two scenes viewed as either audacious or bold.
For me, one crucial point is that Nabil Ayouch knows how to work in cinema, he makes films in his unique style, presents them, and promotes them. Congratulations to him and Nisrin Erradi for her outstanding performance, and best of luck to all Moroccan directors striving to make films that reach beyond our borders. We need our cinema to travel and hear its echo back, not just make films for Moroccans. Nabil Ayouch invites us to love Touda, and I personally love Aitamusic and am pleased with Touda and Nisrin Erradi’s portrayal of her. As for the other details, they require a longer discussion. “
Translatd by Wissal Mellal
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