The Dead Don’t Die: Slim Sets Adrift in Tedious Metaphors
For his third feature film, Agora, Tunisian director Ala Eddine Slim continues in the realm of allegory, this time infusing elements which suggest arthouse genre. However, the initial enigmatic intrigue about a small town haunted by the past, serving as a microcosm for the world today, quickly loses steam through repetitive gestures which scuttles the pacing through purposeful (and ultimately, lethargic) ambiguity. While the impetus driving the narrative often feels ripe with promise, a trenchant superficiality also minimizes its possibilities rather than broadening it.
Two dead animals share a correspondence as they wither away in a field, predicting something dark and dangerous is on the horizon. Police inspector Fatih (Neji Kanaweti) suddenly finds himself in a strange situation when the bodies of three villagers who had disappeared sometime in the past have suddenly resurfaced, not quite dead but clearly not alive. Fatih recruits a friend and local doctor (Bilel Slatnia) to assist with identifying what’s wrong, but word of mouth spreads through the village about these ‘revenants,’ and suddenly crops wither. Omar (Majd Mastoura), a member of Chapter 19 (which is part of something called the Champions League) arrives from the capital with several associates, having caught wind of the situation. As they examine the facts from the past, it would seem some kind of retribution is in store. However, a truth once buried seems easier to keep safely hidden in the past.
It’s suggested the entire narrative is happening in the minds of two animals, a black crow and a blue dog (which is the color of the waste water, part of the village’s sickly symptoms), both who initially seem deceased. Subtitles reflect their internal conversation repeatedly returning to impending doom for those who are on their way to the small Tunisian village, where the locals are deemed ‘cowards’ and the visitors ‘merciless.’ Initially, this is alluring, as we descend into an investigation courtesy of local police inspector Fatih, played by the quite striking Neji Kanaweti. The interlopers are led by Omar, with a bald, clean shaven Majd Mastoura (of Mohamed Ben Attia’s Hedi, 2016), who is supposedly from the capital, but as the story progresses, seems to be part of some mysterious cult led by the equally depilated Sonia Zarg Ayouna, a doctor who speaks through a voice box and has mysterious intentions for the villagers directly affected by the revenants. They’re reminiscent of the afflicted murderers in the cult horror film Blue Sunshine (1977), and Slim grants them a curious black lit convocation in the film’s final moments which seems as if it hails from a much more interesting, exotic production.
With the return of the living dead suggesting the village is being subjected to karmic revenge by those who were denied justice, Biblical plagues seem to be happening as fish turn belly up in the sea and crops are destroyed by birds. But we’re mostly told of these happenings rather than shown, with village leaders demanding the chaos be quelled. Only nothing feels very chaotic in the inert presentation, with the public square for which the film’s titled providing the background for two meetings key to the plot, but both of which feel somewhat inconsequential.
It’s a pity the narrative seems to lurch sluggishly along considering a series of evocatively shot images, setting the stage for the dread being conjured by whatever ‘solution’ is being considered for what’s to be done with the living dead. Somewhat reminiscent of Sebastian Hofmann’s 2012 title Halley, in which an undead man must somehow hide his status from the rest of society despite his swift decomposition, Agora clearly has something to say. If only it was articulated enough to sustain interest.
Reviewed on August 14th at the 2024 Locarno Film Festival (77th edition) — Concorso Internazionale section. 102 Mins.
★★/☆☆☆☆☆
