Director: Shariff Nasr (Netherlands). Year of Release: 2022
A penthouse building with a great view down at the city beneath. Karim is in his luxurious bed with his Ghanaian boyfriend Kofi. Although we are in the Netherlands, they speak to each other in English. As you might guess, they are wearing a limited amount of clothing. Karim is all shaved head and muscles. The doorbell rings, and Kofi makes for the door, saying it’s probably the postman. Karim tries to hold him back, but it’s too late.
To learn the significance of this scene, which is replayed towards the end, you’ll have to see the film. Or maybe you’re quicker at catching what’s happening than I. Either way, we’re now going to join Karim on a visit to his parents in a much less salubrious part of town. It’s the sort of estate where all the kids are playing football outside and neighbours are chatting as they hang out their washing. Many have “migrant background”, although no single country of origin prevails.
Karim’s mother is all Mrs. Doyle, offering him food he doesn’t want and cups of tea. His father says little. As is presumably usual, the discussion soon moves to when Karim is going to settle down with a good wife. How long has he been seeing Eline? Karim has been trying to see if he could just survive in a heterosexual relationship with Eline, but it just isn’t working. His parents originally saw her as an adequate first go at best, but she is now looking increasingly attractive to them.
This time, Karim does not give his usual evasive answer and tells his parents that he’s never going to marry – not to a woman at least. There is a moment of silence while Karim’s parents register exactly what he has just told them. His mother orders him to leave her house immediately. Karim decides to barricade himself in the cupboard under the stairs. He refuses to leave until they agree to at least discuss his sexuality with him like adults.
Karim is soon joined by his 10-year old self who used to hide there when his football had landed somewhere that it shouldn’t. Karim tries to communicate with his parents outside his hiding playes, but his shouted pleas just cause them to turn the tv up louder. As he finds the switches to control their access to television, water and electricity, they continue to refuse to talk to him and act as if he isn’t there.
The house is visited by neighbours and Karim’s macho and homophobic younger brother Redouan, who has not found the financial success of his brother and remained in the Dutch banlieux. The repeated visits are of particular horror for his parents, who are fearful of their reputation in the community. Karim’s mother Fatima assures them that all the stories that they have heard of her son returning are untrue. While all this is happening, Karim stays, quite literally, in the closet.
Meanwhile, the film presumably follows Karim’s thoughts as we follow a younger and more hirsute him trawling the local gay bars for action. He recalls a relationship with another Dutch-Moroccan, Soufian. This required an intervention from the Imam and did not end up well at all. As all this is happening, the much younger Fatima occupies the background of scenes holding baby Redouan, looking on as Karim’s life develops.
And the end of tonight’s showing, there was a round of applause. For me it was – well, it was ok. Firstly, I hope I don’t have to explain why the story of a Dutch-Moroccan man coming to terms with his sexuality is intrinsically more interesting than a group of poshoes in a country house agonising about problems which no-one else has the money to consider. And yet an interesting premise does not automatically lead to a gripping film, and I found I could largely take it or leave it.
I had been worried that the film would betray Orientalist beliefs that Moroccan and Arab families are particularly homophobic (just where was it that Joe Orton go to pick up young boys when homosexuality was illegal in 1950s and 1960s Britain?) In fact, while there is a respect and understanding for the specificities of Karim’s family, it is also clear that their prejudice comes more from fear than hatred which can also be found in many other communities.
Director Shariff Nasr, a gay man from a MENA family has said: “Whenever I visit my family in the Middle East, I am overloaded with love. One day I suddenly asked myself: ‘Would all these caring people still love me the same if I developed romantic feelings for other men?’ I believe they would.” Houb shows an according recognition of the difficulty that Nasr’s parents’ generation feels about dealing with sexuality without portraying them as irredeemable bigots.
At one stage, Karim’s mother tells him that “The truth is not always the solution”. As far as she is concerned, this is the easiest escape from her dilemma. The film acknowledges her reaction without once conceding that it is the correct response. Karim’s search for truth always takes place against the background that many of his family would find it much more preferable to stay in the dark.
For all these reasons, Houb is an interesting watch, in particular for those who are directly affected. At the same time, I once more had the feeling that this is a film which had not been made for me. Which is perfectly fine, but it makes me feel a bit of a fraud for even commenting. Didn’t fully work for me? Well, that’s no surprize as that was never its intention. In which case, I think that the fact that I found it fine is higher praise than it sounds.
CinePhil 