The second feature film by Hafsia Herzi, “Bonne Mère”, focuses on a woman from her parents’ generation. This is Nora, the matriarch—since her husband has long been missing—of a family living in a housing project in the northern districts of Marseille. Nora, in her early sixties, works as a cleaner at the airport, specifically on planes in transit, and volunteers as a home help for an elderly woman to whom she seems very close. She is a generous character to whom all her loved ones turn when they need something. A “good mother”, a “mother courage”.
Her eldest son is in prison, her daughter-in-law lives under her roof with their son, her daughter, Sabah (Sabrina Benhamed), is unemployed and has a young child without a father, while her youngest son acts spoiled and pampered. Children are wonderful, but motherhood drains your vitality, your calcium, to the point where you need to see a dentist to replace worn-out teeth—which is very expensive for Nora. Children are wonderful, but they never stop relying on Nora, leaving her the household chores to complete, using her as an arbiter in everyday conflicts. She is a woman “in service of” others, with her personal life taking a backseat, her desires buried.
Nevertheless, Bonne Mère, presented at Cannes in the Un Certain Regard section, is far from a film of misery, even though it employs naturalistic touches. Despite the wave of melancholy emanating from her, Nora is a radiant woman. The woman who plays her contributes significantly to this, with her bright smile and open, harmonious face.
A non-professional actress, Halima Benhamed was discovered by Hafsia Herzi, who persuaded her, despite her initial reluctance, to accept the role—a filmmaker’s intuition! Halima Benhamed remarkably conveys that although family sometimes burdens her, the love manifested within it sustains her. Likewise, the scenes where she cares for the elderly woman (Denise Guillo) are particularly touching.
More broadly, the director does not seek to hide the plight of these neglected populations. Prison, drugs, dubious proposals made to Sabah for easy money… It’s all there. But Hafsia Herzi also turns her camera and microphones towards the lights she can capture, the life pulsating in these neighborhoods (from which she comes), the beauties they hold. Her dialogues have the liveliness of everyday life, the energy that leads forward.
Bonne Mère is a superb tribute to women who hold together not walls, but numerous lives, sensitive and solid pillars, who thankfully, as is the case for Nora, are sometimes told they are loved.
