Purbeck Film Festival: Red Path (Cert 15)

Red Path confronts viewers with the kind of shocking political violence many would rather ignore.

Based on a true story, Tunisian theatre and film director Lotfi Achour’s relentlessly grim drama follows a young Tunisian shepherd named Nizar who is beheaded by the mujahideen when he and his younger cousin Achraf (Ali Helali) go in search of a water source on occupied land. Achraf is spared by the terrorists and carries his cousin’s head home in a duffel bag, along with a baby goat whose mother has been slaughtered by the boys’ attackers. Before Nizar can be buried, however, his mother insists his body be reunited with his head. Retrieving the young man’s body proves no easy task, with local officials slow to intervene and with the risk of further violence. But instead of focusing on the many dangerous practicalities of this journey, Achour’s film works to understand Achraf’s grief.

Achraf’s child’s understanding of his cousin’s death troubles the bleak narrative in intriguing ways. At one point, he sets Nizar’s dogs loose, so the dead boy won’t be lonely. It’s a heartbreaking gesture, but one that pays off later in the search for the body. In moments like these, where the child’s sensibilities, hopes and fantasies create the lens through which we see terrorist violence and its effects, Achour’s film gains its unique identity, straddling the line between psychological character study and politically charged drama.

Achour’s young performers are impressively versatile. Set within a stark and fiercely minimal film, their unflinching range of big emotions – shedding tears, exuding joy – gives the film an emotional wallop. At times, Red Path strays from naturalism into poetic fantasy. Achraf sees the spectre of his murdered cousin alive again, the boys talk, and Achraf experiences the sensuous memory of their discovery of the water source in the mountains before the ghastly events that followed. Achour uses subjective camera, lens distortion, and intense sound design to bring us into Achraf’s young mind.

But one of the film’s most daring moments is also its most subtle, when Achour acknowledges his camera. As Achraf climbs a tree to hang the bag containing his cousin’s head from a branch, a drop of blood falls on to the lens below, clouding the image. With this precise choice, Achour dramatises the distorting effect of violence and tragedy on young lives and the world around them. The film’s vision is changed by this blood, the world transformed by Nizar’s violent death.

Sight and Sound Review, BFI.