by Cláudio Alves
...And then there were 91...
As we predicted back when Nigeria's Oscar submission was disqualified from the Best International Feature race, the same fate has befallen Austria's Joy. Despite some German dialogue, most of the film is in English, due to the fact it tells the story of Nigerian immigrants living in Europe. After all, Nigeria's official language is English. Once again, such news makes us ask ourselves if this is a fair predicament. One thing's for sure – it's ridiculous that the Academy doesn't vet the country's submissions before announcing the list of eligible films. It'd certainly avoid a great deal of scandal.
Even if it's amply justifiable, such disqualification is unfortunate, even a bit sad, because Joy's an achingly poignant triumph. The sort which deserves to be celebrated by the Academy, but seldomly is…
Sudabeh Mortezai, an Austrian-Iranian filmmaker, directs her camera at the overlooked and marginalized of Austria's society, never demonizing anyone or falling into the trap of moralistic binaries. Her characters and their dilemmas are complex and abrasive as well as sympathetic and human, their stories an intersection of disparate, but ever similar, kinds of systematic oppression. Through them, Mortezai shows us a tapestry of abuse and injustice, a reckoning with contemporary sex work's difficult political dimensions and a portrayal of the way in which those that are victimized often victimize others on their search for survival.
The aesthetic of the exercise owes much to a long tradition of European social realism, but the faint stink of exploitation that so often mars these films never makes an appearance. Part of it is a testament to Mortezai's humanist approach, her intelligent script, and modestly sophisticated lensing. Another big component of such success is the cast's deft interpretation of the lacerating story. As a recent immigrant turned reluctant prostitute, Mariam Sanusi may be a bit wooden, but her awkwardness works with the character. Angela Ekeleme Pius is a spectacle of motherly authority turned into poison as a ruthless Madame. As for Anwulika Alphonsus, the film's protagonist, she's a prism of contradicting emotions and quiet shifts of motivation, all threaded together in a brilliantly coherent characterization.
Even if Joy's out of the Oscar race, I'd urge any cinephile to search it out. It's rare to see such an intelligent drama about sex workers, about displaced communities, the limits of sisterhood and the perilous experience of African immigrants in Europe.
Joy’s currently available on Netflix. Don't miss it.