In her third film, “In a Whisper,” Tunisian writer-director Leyla Bouzid charts an emotional mystery for her characters. Ostensibly the film is about a family gathering for the funeral of a prodigal son, while the protagonist, his niece, tries to uncover how he died. However, the film is less a whodunnit than it is an excavation of the past, finding truth in complex familial relationships. It plays like a hazy memory piece where ghosts visit from the past — and the more those in the present talk about them, the clearer the memories become, and perhaps a path forward can emerge.
Now settled in Paris, Lilia (Eya Bouteraa) flies in to her Tunisian hometown of Sousse, accompanied by her girlfriend Alice (Marion Barbeau). But while Alice checks into a hotel in the city, Lilia returns to the family home, under the matriarchal rule of her grandmother Néfissa (Salma Baccar). Tending to the older woman are her middle-aged daughters Heyat (Feriel Chamari) and Wahida (Hiam Abbas), Lilia’s mother.
Néfissa’s younger son Daly (Karim Rmadi) has been found naked and dead in the streets of the city. The family is trying to save face by burying him quickly, and preventing any investigation into his possible murder. The film takes a little too much time to reveal that Daly was gay — the reason for the shame felt by his family, and for the tension between them. Following this revelation, the audience becomes privy to the secrets and lies these people tell themselves: how they acknowledge what they know about each other, without ever talking about it.
The first part of the film is marked by Bouzid’s documentation of the rituals of death. The body is cleaned and prepared in the Muslim tradition, as the family takes one last look before the burial, while hired men recite the Koran. After the burial, the house is opened for mourners to visit and pay their respects. What’s left unsaid governs every moment, as the family seeks to keep the truth from outsiders.
Besides the deceased, who appears more as a spectre in pictures, letters and memories, the men in this story take a back seat, with three generations of women at the center of the narrative. Straight men, in particular, are only talked about, kept in the background, or appearing as authority figures trying to uphold absurd laws and traditions.
It’s left to the women to lay bare their feelings and how they affect each other. Néfissa refuses to talk about Daly, while Hayet and Wahida squabble over who supported him more: the former, by taking care of him and his daily needs, or the latter, by encouraging him to come out and live openly. It’s left to Lilia to find the truth about how he died. That journey takes her to the city’s queer underground, and to friends and lovers of Daly who knew him like she never did. In the process, she’s forced her to confront her own lies and shame about Alice.
Bouzid crafts her characters with a dash of melodrama. Néfissa cries loudly and with anguish about her son, but refuses to acknowledge his truth. Wahida finds herself not willing to accept her daughter’s homosexuality, even when she accepted her brother’s. Conversations between them are more about shame than love, as together, they do their best to avoid a public scandal.
In contrast, Lilia and Alice’s loving but strained relationship is depicted with more tenderness, albeit with the same push-pull of not acknowledging what they want from each other. These are believable people, giving the actors complicated feelings to play with. Only when Bouzid deals with the repercussions of homophobic Tunisian laws does the melodrama tip into ham-handedness.
Bouteraa plays Lilia with restrained mannerisms, but an avalanche of emotion in her face. As the conflicted Wahida, Abbas takes the film’s stoic center, shading the character in such a way that her dilemma becomes the audience’s main focus. With all this drama unspooling, meanwhile, Bouzid finds time for lovely, quiet scenes showing how life goes on. The queers sing an Um Kulthum song in rhythmic unison. Lilia, her mother and her aunt try to free a bird that has made its way into the house. Néfissa relaxes with all generations of her sprawling family.
By the end, the question of how Daly died is much less important than that of how he lived. His family might never know all the details, but Bouzid gives the audience tangible knowledge of his passions and misgivings, accomplishing that by observing the five female characters in his orbit. So is the mystery of all their lives fully revealed.