IFFR 2026 Compétition Big Screen
Critique : The Arab
par Olivia Popp
- Malek Bensmail se lance dans le long-métrage avec un récit parallèle à l'histoire de L'Étranger de Camus qui adopte la perspective du frère de Meursault

Cet article est disponible en anglais.
French author and philosopher Albert Camus received the Nobel Prize for Literature 15 years after the publication of his most famous work, The Stranger. In this existentialist novella, his protagonist, Mersault, kills an unnamed Arab man on the beach, as we read the book narrated from a first-person perspective. Kamel Daoud’s 2013 novel, The Mersault Investigation, was a so-called postcolonial response to this story, from the viewpoint of slain man Moussa’s younger brother Haroun.
With somewhat impeccable timing – after François Ozon’s own adaptation of The Stranger [+lire aussi :
critique
bande-annonce
interview : François Ozon
fiche film] was released last year – Algerian filmmaker Malek Bensmail, who’s best known for his documentary work, has now loosely adapted Daoud’s novel for the screen, making his fiction feature-film debut with The Arab, which has just world-premiered in IFFR’s Big Screen Competition. The movie is dedicated to Algerian actor Ahmed Benaïssa, who passed away in 2022 and who makes his final appearance in the film.
In this retelling, which is set during the Algerian Civil War (1992-2002) with a screenplay by Bensmail and Jacques Fieschi, a now elderly Haroun (Benaïssa) wants someone to know and share his side of the story. He seeks out Kamel (Nabil Asli), a journalist chronicling deadly attacks in the country, telling him that the 23-year-old man murdered in 1942 was real and did have a name: it was his brother, Moussa (Brahim Derris). Kamel isn’t convinced Camus’ story is anything other than a work of fiction, but he continues listening and trying to understand.
By way of different stories, Haroun takes Kamel through his childhood in French-occupied Algeria from the 1940s to the 1960s, also transporting the viewer, firstly to a black-and-white world of memories before Moussa’s death, and then to a more colourful world of Haroun’s young-adult years (with Dali Benssalah playing him at this age). Bensmail marks each time shift with production design-related changes and atmospheric adjustments. The frame then moves from 4:3 to widescreen with the departure of the French colonists in 1962, literally opening up Haroun’s world even as terrible things continue to happen around him, further exacerbated by his controlling mother (Hiam Abbass).
Although The Arab opens at the height of the country’s recent brutal conflict, Bensmail primarily uses Kamel as a frame to explore Haroun’s tale, leaving him behind in character development terms. The filmmaker tries to weave the story into the broader political landscape over the passing decades and flirts with a decolonial spirit, but too much time is spent in the present rather than with younger Haroun. The Arab also displays some formally intriguing choices, but its narrative doesn’t quite reach the level of complexity it sets out to achieve. The film’s real strength, however, lies in the revelation of Haroun’s gradual learning and disillusionment, encouraging us to ask the same things of ourselves.
The Arab was produced by Algeria’s Hikayet Films, France’s Tita B Productions, Switzerland’s Imagofilm Lugano, Saudi Arabia, and Belgium’s Need Productions. Hikayet Films is also handling its world sales.
(Traduit de l'anglais)
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