An interview with Satin Rouge director Raja Amari.

By Jeremiah Kipp

Hiam Abbass as Lilia (center) and Monia Hichri as Folla (right)

When speaking about his romantic melodrama Imitation of Life, filmmaker Douglas Sirk said, “You [shouldn’t] believe the happy end, and you're not supposed to.” His subversive response to the “tearjerker” employed a lavishly photographed, highly stylized cinematic approach for stories of victimization, repression and social injustice. The irony should be apparent: His heroines must choose between family and individual freedom, and their conflict often resolves itself with a note of ambivalence. The traditional family structure is viewed as a trap and freedom comes with a price.

Arabic writer-director Raja Amari’s voluptuous Satin Rouge taps into a rich, contradictory web of Sirkian undertones. On the surface, it’s a tale of female empowerment within the confines of Tunisian life: still-beautiful widow Lilia (Hiam Abbass), a seamstress, spends her mundane afternoons cleaning house and watching corny soap operas, but at night she is lured into the seductive world of belly dancing at a cabaret nightclub. These free-spirited nightlife environs inspire her in primal ways she can’t begin to understand or articulate. Call it an unexpected glow of happiness in an otherwise arid life.

The obvious message lies in her covert rebellion against a male-dominated society whose unspoken rules don’t allow opportunity for mothers, widows and women. Lilia creates a fascinating double-life for herself, yet she preserves her domestic image for snooping relatives, neighbors, and her rebellious teenage daughter Salma (Hend El Fahem). Indulging in nights of fantasy at the cabaret, Lilia hypocritically attempts to keep Salma under lock and key at home. Little do mother and daughter know they’re both having secret affairs with the same intense young man (Maher Kamoun) — a drummer at the nightclub and a permanent fixture at Salma’s after school dance class.

What seems to be building toward the predictable romantic triangle grows increasingly complicated as Lilia morphs from a demure, passive wallflower into a risqué dancer manipulating the male pleasure-seekers within her audience, and in her life. Satin Rouge has Lilia seize control of things, a testament to the independence of womanhood, only to use that power as a way of dominating others. The final image of her victorious dance at her daughter’s wedding celebration plays out like a disturbing mixed metaphor. She transforms herself into something powerful, tempting and heartless.

Born in 1971, Raja Amari trained for several years at the Academic Dance Institute in Tunis before starting her film studies in Paris. She also pursued courses in Art History and Romantic Languages at the University of Tunis. This diverse education might help to explain the different levels of Satin Rouge, which blend an academic approach to social problems with the sexually charged, freewheeling atmosphere of a dance film. Sirk’s melodramas may have affected her choices for Satin Rouge, but she cites Golden Age Egyptian musicals from the ’40s and ’50s as primary inspirations.

Amari received acclaim for Satin Rouge during its premiere at the Berlinale’s International Forum. She also won the New Director’s Showcase Award at the Seattle International Film Festival. With Zeitgeist Films handling the film’s nationwide distribution, Satin Rouge opens in New York on August 23, 2002 and in Los Angeles on August 30.

Not to be confused with Baz Luhrmann’s frenetic Moulin Rouge, Amari might question that film’s idealized tagline — “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.” When it comes to love, passion and duty, Satin Rouge is a bracing reminder that nothing’s ever that simple.

Hiam Abbass as Lilia

Filmmaker: What was your background in film prior to making your feature debut, Satin Rouge?

Raja Amari: I developed an interest in cinema from an early age, and eventually became a film critic for a movie magazine in Tunisia. I wanted to learn a more practical approach to making films, though, and decided to study screenwriting at La Fémis [The National Film School of France]. After that, I became a filmmaker and directed a short film called April. That was followed by another short called One Evening in July, which was part of a series called “Mama Africa”. This series was intended to let African filmmakers from different backgrounds express themselves.

Filmmaker: For Satin Rouge, how did you decide upon the subject matter of belly dancing? 

Amari: A lot of musicals were made during the beginning years of Arab cinema, and I had always wanted to make a film about dance. But I mainly wanted to do something about desire — a force that, once unleashed, upsets Lilia’s settled life. It leads her to places she had no idea she could go, and brings her face to face with herself. It’s the unexpected itinerary and evolution of a woman. I also wanted to deal with the contrast that exists in a society like Tunisia between what you are, what you desire to be, and the frustration such a difference begets.

Filmmaker: The emotional through-line of Satin Rouge grows more complicated as the movie progresses. From whose perspective is your story told?

Amari: The most important point of view was Lilia’s, and that was something I wanted to respect as much as possible. The entire film revolves around her character. She is in a state of discovery of herself and the world that surrounds her. For the opening shot [that pans across a room as Lilia is cleaning, during which she hears music outside and starts to dance], I wanted a continuous movement in a long, wide shot that portrays her daily routine without any fantasies.

Filmmaker:Would you consider Satin Rouge to be a political film? It deals with a woman struggling against the traditional conservative values inherent in Tunisian life.

Amari: Every film is political, whether you like it or not. However, I did not want to openly tackle the struggles of a woman who — as a Tunisian woman — is opposed to an oppressive society. Lilia does not have to deal with that kind of fight, since she keeps her double life hidden. She attempts to preserve her status as a woman who has a [defined] place in society, in contrast to the other dancers she meets.

I’m convinced that change will not come about through frontal attacks, and the complex situation she finds herself in is more interesting to me. The fact that Satin Rouge exists is already, in itself, a victory over the conservative standards that prevail in Tunisia. The film triggered real controversy upon its release, and controversy is a good thing.

Filmmaker: The cabaret environment of Satin Rouge feels remarkably detailed. Did you have any first-hand knowledge of those places?

Amari: Before making the movie, and even until a certain stage in the writing process, I did not know the world of cabaret. It is a milieu that is not necessarily accessible to women. In the process of going out on location, I discovered another side of Tunis that I had never known: the night world. In a way, it is a freer and more blossoming world. I did change the cabaret a little, since it had to be adapted to Lilia’s character and her way of seeing things. But much of my inspiration came from what I saw and observed. In fact, for the smaller roles I cast people who were actually working or involved in cabaret.

Filmmaker: What was your casting process like, combining professional and non-professional actors?

Amari: Hiam Abbass is a Palestinian actress who lives in Paris, and I had already noticed her in other films. I very quickly wanted to cast her in the main role of Satin Rouge. She was extremely adamant in defending the part of this Arab woman — and it’s not an easy part for an Arab actress. Finding all of the other actors and actresses stemmed from choosing Hiam in the first place, meaning that I had them rehearse with her to see how the chemistry was working. Some of the people in the cabaret were non-professional, particularly the customers. Hend El Fahem, who played the role of Lilia’s daughter Salma, was a first time actress.

Filmmaker: What determined the presentation of your dance scenes, and how did you envision the male audience in relationship to the women dancers?

Amari: The dance is filmed according to Lilia’s emotions and the way she evolves throughout the movie. At first she’s shy, then she is set free little by little, and finally she finds herself more and more in control of her life. At the same time, I did not want to set her in conflict with the men in the audience. Those men, by watching her dance, help her to grow. Everybody is here because of the love of dance, even if this is a world controlled by the rules of men.

Filmmaker: Did you attempt to resist the potential melodrama of having a mother and daughter both involved with the same person? You don’t wrap up your plot in the typical way we’re used to from other movies.

Amari: With such a topic, it would have been very easy to fall into melodrama. The triangular relationship between mother, daughter and lover is emotionally loaded, which is why I chose not to have the situation explode.

At the climax of the film, Lilia approves her daughter’s marriage to [her lover], Chokri, and we don’t know how this story will end. Is Lilia going to sacrifice herself for her daughter, or is it perhaps a clever way to keep Chokri by her side? We aren’t sure what is happening behind this cover-up of a happy ending. What we do know is that Lilia is triumphant in masterminding the situation … and she has no remorse.

Jeremiah Kipp is a freelance journalist based in NYC.