Lingui, The Sacred Bonds is a powerful abortion drama reminiscent of films like the recent American indie Never, Rarely, Sometimes, Always,as well as the 2007 Palme d’Or winner 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. But with its Chad setting and a third act ‘twist’, Lingui packs a very emotive (and from my standpoint, unfamiliar) punch as both a study of religious patriarchal restriction and a provocative feminist rallying cry in a location far removed from the majority of what is represented on Western screens.
Achouackh Abakar Souleymane is Amina, a poor single mother who maintains a quiet life selling homeware made of scrap metal, albeit mostly unsuccessfully. A recent convert to Islam, Amina’s core devotion alongside her religion is to her daughter, 15-year-old Maria, who appears to be leading a slightly less conservative lifestyle, enjoying parties, friends and alcohol as any teenager is bound to do. When Maria reveals that she is pregnant and wants an abortion, an initially devastated Amina quickly takes it upon herself to seek out help for her daughter in a situation that those around her consider, at best, a social taboo better left unacknowledged, or at worst, a grave and irredeemable sin. Amina’s dedication to help Maria, echoing the film’s title, is the sacred bond of family, a principle that defines Amina’s world-view and attitude to life, something which is only affirmed further when this bond is extended outwards to include other members of her estranged family and strangers who aim to help this desparate mother and her daughter.
The initial set up probably reads as if Lingui will amount to a sombre exercise in art house ‘gritty realism’ akin to 4 Months, but writer/director Mahamat-Saleh Haroun and cinematographer Mathieu Giombini refuse to indulge in a more predictable or exploitative visual take on the material. Lingui’s imagery is instead vibrant – faces, dancing, landscapes, intimacy – capturing humanity at both its highs and lows, rather than doubling down upon the misery and suffering that this film could have been rendered through in other directorial hands. Its glossy 2.35:1 widescreen image offers a bright and almost heroic quality to proceedings, bolstered by its captivating lead performances. It feels human rather than caricatural, and insightful in a way that only a Chadian filmmaker can accomplish, rather than an outsider’s imagined perspective. If there’s one weak link, so to speak, Lingui’s aforementioned ‘twist’ is perhaps too slightly too contrived, but the impact of this key narrative reveal asks us to reinterpret all we have seen before, a sobering and unfortunately very authentic moment which demonstrates the clear need for a film like this to give a voice to women who have been mistreated and abused in such a manner – and more significantly, to allow such abuse to be overcome.
Notes from the Multiplex 