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„Eine ganze Welt öffnet sich diesem Erstaunen, dieser Bewunderung, Erkenntnis, Liebe und wird vom Blick aufgesogen.“ (Jean Epstein)

The Creation of Things – Alyam, Alyam by Ahmed El Maânouni

In the words of the film­ma­ker and his­to­ri­an Ahmed Bouana­ni, it’s impos­si­ble to sum­ma­ri­ze Ahmed El Maânouni’s Alyam, Alyam. It’s a film about how things are done. 

The sub­mis­si­on to indi­vi­du­al aspi­ra­ti­ons, the pos­ses­si­on of one’s life, and the idea of extra­c­ting ones­elf from shared exis­tence are all ali­en to the Moroc­can fami­ly shown in Alyam, Alyam. The film was made in the spi­rit of brin­ging up a natio­nal audi­ence, of crea­ting images that deco­lo­ni­ze per­cep­ti­on, from which Moroc­can view­ers can learn to look at them­sel­ves and, con­se­quent­ly, as Bouana­ni wri­tes, to judge the socie­ty in which they live. The form of Alyam, Alyam and Bouanani’s pro­cla­ma­ti­on delinea­te a func­tion­al expl­ana­ti­on of cine­ma, which iden­ti­fies its mea­ning in the faci­li­ta­ti­on of a com­mon, popu­lar self-reco­gni­ti­on, and that neces­si­ta­tes atten­ti­on to one’s own social rela­ti­onships in order to estab­lish a rela­ti­onship with the film its­elf. It’s edu­ca­tio­nal art, but it doesn’t teach soli­di­fied pre­con­cep­ti­ons. Rather, the les­sons fall into place in the moment the view­er appro­pria­tes them. 

This pro­cess was hin­de­red by the lack of dis­tri­bu­ti­on. El Maânouni’s had no access to the cine­ma space, and his les­sons didn’t take shape for years. The les­sons enga­ged with mat­ters of urgen­cy – Alyam, Alyam stages the repre­sen­ta­ti­ve gene­ra­tio­nal con­flict bet­ween a young peasant, Abdel­wa­hed, who sees emi­gra­ti­on as the only solu­ti­on, and his fami­ly, who expect him to take respon­si­bi­li­ty for them after his father’s death. Abdel­wa­hed refers to neces­si­ty; for him, emi­gra­ti­on is not a desi­re, and the appeal of Wes­tern life isn’t gra­ti­fi­ca­ti­on, but the mini­mum con­di­ti­ons to main­tain life: less dust, less wind, less coughs, less xero­der­mia, less wounds on the palm. For his mother and grand­fa­ther, the fami­ly is one, it is inse­pa­ra­ble; it’s one with its land and ani­mals as well, which are not to be capi­ta­li­sed on for the advance­ment of indi­vi­du­al plans. Abdelwahed’s inten­ti­on doesn’t so much strike the fami­ly on account of its spe­ci­fi­ci­ties. A more seve­re dis­tur­ban­ce is roo­ted in his very con­side­ra­ti­on of inde­pen­dence, his ima­gi­na­ti­on of new rou­tes that replace the self-evi­dent, inte­gral con­ti­nui­ty of inhe­ri­tance, name­ly the inhe­ri­tance of land, respon­si­bi­li­ty, and pro­vi­dence. Abdelwahed’s fami­ly under­stands reli­gi­on in the most self-dis­sol­ving man­ner, in light of which a soli­ta­ry effort to impro­ve the con­di­ti­ons of life on the earth­ly world is irrele­vant. They’re only here for a while to take care of God’s land, the pro­s­pect they look for­ward to is elsewhere.

El Maâ­nouni obser­ves a tem­po­ral­ly and geo­gra­phi­cal­ly distinc­ti­ve phe­no­me­non, but empha­si­zes the uni­ver­sal pain of this ces­sa­ti­on. The motif of an ending cul­tu­re in Alyam, Alyam doesn’t mere­ly signi­fy the know­ledge about agri­cul­tu­re and the pre-indus­tria­li­zed living space, but also the way peo­p­le think of themselves.

A par­ti­cu­lar com­po­si­ti­on depic­ting a deba­te bet­ween Abdel­wa­hed, his mother, and his grand­fa­ther reoc­curs in the film. It’s a deep-focus medi­um shot, recor­ded in celes­ti­al cla­ri­ty; the mother and the grand­fa­ther find shel­ter in the shadow of the house while Abdel­wa­hed sits under the sun. It’s exem­pla­ry to the images show­ing con­ver­sa­ti­ons. The film con­sists of num­e­rous long talks but they are never sepa­ra­ted from other acti­vi­ties or redu­ced to the dra­ma­tur­gi­cal use of ver­ba­li­zing a situa­ti­on. The con­ver­sa­ti­ons most­ly take place during work like the spind­ling of wool, the forming of dough, the picking of pota­toes. They are never about work, which is done with pris­ti­ne rou­ti­ne, but if work requi­res grea­ter focus the tal­king pau­ses. This ele­ment of dis­trac­tion marks out the vita­li­ty of the­se sce­nes. The “actors” in Alyam, Alyam per­form con­ver­sa­ti­ons in a living envi­ron­ment: while they’re in a dia­lo­gue, events take place, make noi­ses, and lea­ve traces behind. The peo­p­le in the sce­ne rare­ly look at each other; they con­tem­p­la­te, they are par­ti­al­ly invol­ved in the dia­lo­gue, par­ti­al­ly in some­thing else, work, fid­ge­ting, the tumult in the back­drop or a slee­ping rela­ti­ve in the same room. The long takes of Alyam, Alyam regis­ter the inci­dents that make a con­ver­sa­ti­on imper­fect and dynamic.

El Maânouni’s form of deco­lo­niza­ti­on is not that of agi­ta­ti­on but of obser­va­ti­on and distance. Alyam, Alyam is an occa­si­on to expe­ri­ence dura­ti­on and the envi­ron­ment of crea­ti­on, that of an argu­ment and that of bread.