Hood Witch

Bluesky

Most of us like to think of ourselves as rational, reasonable people, but how that manifests depends on your starting point. As some historians readily point out, the Enlightenment was not an event but a process, and it’s still not complete. Even in moder, urban society, superstition runs deep. That’s not all bad for Nour (Golshifteh Farahani), who is building a business around an app to help connect people with Marabou healers, when she’s not smuggling exotic animals for a living. Indeed, neighbours in her Paris suburb are quick to turn to her when they have problems, to draw on her own mystical knowledge. She takes a fee, but she also tells them when she thinks they should be going to a hospital or calling an ambulance.

Using her meagre income to support herself and teenage some Amine (Amine Zariouhi), Nour has enough on her plate. She also has to deal with aggressive ex-husband Dylan (Jérémy Ferrari), who disapproves of her activities and is trying to use them to turn the boy against her. He too is under pressure from men in the community who decry Nour as a witch and say that Amine needs to be ritually purified in order to save his soul. But it’s when an attempted intervention with a seriously ill young man results in tragedy that Nour’s life collapses around her, as she is attacked by a mob, accused of sorcery and forced to flee.

The action here is split into chapters by the insertion of clips of people sharing their thoughts about the situation on social media, most of them passionately for or against her, very few suggesting that there’s not enough information or asking people to calm down. It’s all too believable. Whilst the film has played at horror festivals, it doesn’t locate that horror in the supernatural, but rather in people’s willingness to believe awful things – supernatural or not – about a woman whom most of them have never met. Then there is horror at those who simply walk on by, ignoring her cries for help, during the film’s most distressing scene.

The story is simple despite the complex heritage of ideas on which it is built. It’s the acting that carries it, and naturally Farahani, one of the finest talents of her generation, does not disappoint. Newcomer Zariouhi is also impressive as the increasingly confused boy who wants to be a good Muslim and do what’s right but doesn’t know which of his parents he should listen to. To a degree, he is standing in for writer/director Saïd Belktibia, whose own mother practised a similar craft; it is to her that the film is dedicated.

With the intensity of the mother-son bond at its core, this is a high stakes thriller which, though it doesn’t always get the pacing right, builds momentum effectively over time. Despite the specificity of its plot, it’s a film that anybody who has been cast as a dangerous outsider will relate to, and Belktibia does a good job of capturing the claustrophobia of urban spaces where women in particular can feel hopelessly strapped by violence. Nour does not have special powers as many of those around her believe, but her determination to protect her son compels her to act nonetheless, and her combination of endurance and drive makes her an appealing heroine.

If you’ve experienced domestic abuse yourself, you might find this one hard going. Otherwise, it’s well worth checking out.