L'Homme qui a vendu sa peau

The opening scene shows a framed item being hung in a stark white exhibition space. We're then greeted to the sound of purring cat as a man stirs awake. This is, for the most part, the nearest we get to a happy scene: 'The man who sold his skin' is an excellent film, but it's not a particularly pleasant story being told.

There is an unyielding tension pervading the feature that comes from the mere knowledge of the premise, let alone seeing the narrative play out. Passing moments of levity, and the quality of the film-making craft on display, help to offset that feeling, and an accompanying melancholy, but don't truly make this easier to watch.

Yet make no mistake, 'The man who sold his skin' is a fine film, very well made. Writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania's camerawork is exquisite, with many eye-catching shots as worthy of appreciation as any piece of art in a museum. There are several instances where lens flare, or the refraction of light through glass, is used to partly obscure a shot with an artistic touch that I think often gets lost in many pictures employing the same tricks. Then, too, the music of composer Amine Bouhafa catches our attention to, perfectly complementing the scenes we see.

And the cast is outstanding. The only actor here I distinctly recognize is Monica Bellucci, whose presence is surprising but welcome, as she brings an entrancing, understated intensity to her role. I could swear I've seen Koen De Bouw in other features, though a glance at his credits suggests otherwise. Still, there's a purposefulness, and cunning, in his countenance that we can't tear our eyes away from. Above all, though, I would love to learn more about Dea Liane, and star Yahya Mahayni, whose lack of renown belies great skill. It's a joy to see them at play, and I'd love to watch more of their features.

Engrossing as Ben Hania's screenplay is, the narrative is a thinly veiled vehicle for stark themes of human rights, racism, exploitation, dehumanization, and the tricks we fool ourselves into believing in pursuit of a better life. There are some especially ugly and cringe-worthy moments on display as these notions are laid as bare as the skin on protagonist Sam Ali's back. Once more - it's undeniably captivating, but viewers looking for an uplifting flick may wish to look elsewhere.

Still, when all is said and done, the ending is a little bit shocking, yet also deeply rewarding. It's a fine capstone to a film that has explored some very murky territory, and further credit to the writing.

There's no question in my mind that 'The man who sold his skin' is well deserving of every accolade to come its way. It can be a difficult movie to watch at times, but it's so well made that it's a journey very much worth taking, and finding to watch wherever you can.

"The Man Who Sold His Skin" is a visually stunning and thought-provoking film that delves into the themes of identity, personal sacrifice, and the commodification of human life. Through its exploration of the contemporary art world, it raises thought-provoking questions about the boundaries between art and exploitation. With exceptional performances, particularly from Yahya Mahayni as the protagonist, and exquisite cinematography that captures the juxtaposition of beauty and brutality, this film leaves a lasting impact on viewers. It is a captivating and memorable cinematic experience that skillfully combines social commentary, romance, and dark humor to create a unique and thought-provoking narrative. As the story unfolds, the film prompts reflection on the power dynamics at play in society and the sacrifices individuals make for personal freedom. "The Man Who Sold His Skin" is a true standout in its ability to engage, provoke, and resonate long after the credits roll.

I hadn't realised that was by a Tunisian director. She did a good job to get Syrians to play nearly all of the principal parts. It really irritates me when the accents don't match the supposed country when I watch an Arabic-language film and I always wonder why so many films make do with impersonations. I used to live in Syria, so it is even worse when the actors are playing (and failing) the various Syrian accents.

I was also pleased to see that there was very little propaganda against His Excellency Bashar al-Assad, the elected President of Syria. He was referred to as a dictator at one point; I wish the translation on the subtitles had said "Autarch" which might have been better. However, despite the freedoms experienced by Syrians before the attack on her, the results of the scene in the train during the marriage proposal and its subsequent sequels are wearily familiar as were the family connections used as a solution.

Life as a refugee was shown unflinchingly. I have had experience of some of the tricks and strategies used by migrants to stay alive - I live in a different Arab country now and see sub-Saharan immigrants at exhibitions where food will be served so they can get a meal for free just as Sam and his friends do in the film.

It's at one of these exhibitions that Sam's life changes. He makes a pact that will allow him to follow his love to Europe to fulfil a promise and a dream. He has contracted out his body.

Not everything goes smoothly, of course. There wouldn't have been a film if it had. That the hour and forty four minutes flew past is a testament to the power of the storyline and plot development. The last two twists in the final minutes of the film had me in the depths of despair; I'd seen the first one coming. What else would DAESH had done? There's another development after that which resolves the film completely.

I had had this waiting to be watched for a month or so. Last night was an ideal time to watch; I was relaxed and ready for it. I recommend the film.

Greetings again from the darkness. Lao Tzu wrote, "Being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, while loving someone gives you courage." But to what extreme would you go for true love, and how far is too far? Writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania offers an early scene on a commuter train as Sam Ali and Abeer flirt and tease to the point that he publically, and loudly, proclaims his love for her. Unfortunately for him, his outburst occurs in Syria, where human rights are always in peril. In fact, this love story is burdened with the weight of human rights, individual choices, and the power of art.

Ms. Ben Hania bookends her film with a choreographed art installation coated in a blizzard of white walls and white gloves. It's 2011, when a distant relative in law enforcement assists Sam Ali (Yahya Mahayni) with his (quite creative) escape from Syria to Lebanon - after a painful slap of reality accompanies Sam's goodbye to his beloved Abeer (Dea Liane in her first screen credit). As Sam flees for his life, Abeer is pressured by her family into an arranged marriage.

We then flash forward one year to find Sam working in a Beirut chicken factory. He scrounges for food at the buffet of local art galleries until one day he is spotted by Soraya (a blond Monica Bellucci), the agent for acclaimed artist Jeffrey Godefroy (Koen De Bouw). When Sam and Godefroy meet, the artist tells him that art is "alive" and, more precisely, "I want your back". A Faustian deal is cut. Godefroy turns Sam Ali into a living piece of art by tattooing his back, and Sam gets the travel visa he desperately needs to reunite with Abeer.

With Sam basically a commodity (there are even T-shirts of his back in the gift shop), there are protests to his being exploited - this despite Sam enjoying the nice hotels, room service, and promise of the visa. Of course, as with any commodity, it's only a matter of time before the almighty dollar comes into play, and soon Sam is auctioned off to a collector. Subtle humor has a role throughout much of the film, and Mr. Mahayni is quite believable as a Syrian refugee sacrificing for love. Ms. Ben Hania's film is inspired by "Tim", an original artwork tattoo by Wim Delvoye sold to a collector in 2008. Mr. Delvoye, a controversial Belgian artist, even makes a brief appearance here as an insurance agent. This is a thought-provoking love story, survival tale, and commentary on the bent side of the art world. When is a man truly free? We don't typically think of Tunisia as a hotbed for cinema, but this film deserves attention.

"The Man Who Sold His Skin," Tunisia's first ever International Feature Film nominee at the Academy Awards, reminded me a lot of the movie "Synonyms" from last year. Both are about men who have been exiled from their countries of origin -- in one the man is a Syrian refugee, in the other a young man self exiles himself from the oppressive military culture of Israel. In both films, the men find themselves turned into commodities by their adopted countries, welcomed only as much as they can prove themselves to be useful. I liked both films quite a lot, "Synonyms" probably a bit more, but "The Man Who Sold His Skin" is quite good in its own right.

It's apparently based on a true story, though I always take that claim with a grain of salt. The man at the film's center agrees to have his entire back tattooed with a visa that allows refugees to travel freely through Europe, which turns him into a living work of art on display in museums and galleries. The lack of narrative subtlety is compensated for by a striking visual style. This film looks beautiful, nearly every scene offering the viewer composition just begging to be admired. Indeed, at times it's almost a little too beautiful, too carefully composed, as if the director just couldn't help but make choices that would draw attention to themselves. But it's a sin I can forgive when the results are a movie that looks as good as this one does.

Grade: A.