Zain Duraie’s Sink sinks the stereotypes — mental health in Arab cinema

Zain Duraie’s Sink, which had its European premiere at the London Film Festival, is an incredibly mature and well-observed exploration of a young man’s deteriorating mental health and the creeping chaos that threatens to engulf his family.

This is Duraie’s first feature, following award-winning shorts, including Give Up The Ghost; a gripping drama about a couple struggling with infertility. She is back on the festival circuit with a film that once again delves into the intimacy of familial relationships with remarkable nuance. One of Screen Daily’s Arab Stars of 2024, she started her career assisting Palestinian director Annemarie Jacir, whose Palestine 36 is currently out on release.

Zain Duraie’s Sink: An ode to motherhood

The film follows Nadia (Clara Khoury, The Voice of Hind Rajab) as she struggles to accept her son’s worsening undiagnosed mental illness. When 17-year-old Basil (Mohammad Nizar, Selahy) is suspended from school, Nadia is determined to support him. However, she soon finds herself overwhelmed and floundering, trying to both protect her son and keep some semblance of normalcy in their lives. The title in Arabic – “gharaq” – means drowning, in reference to Nadia’s struggle to cope. The story is based on someone Duraie knows and, unsurprisingly, her portrayals of the mother and son are nuanced and empathetic, without shying away from the hardship of the situation. Speaking with The Canary, she explains:

The film is about love and acceptance, I wanted to leave the audience with a feeling of tenderness and warmth. I don’t offer simple solutions or try to please the crowd. I want to show how this mum sees the reality of the situation. And the reality is very difficult. We don’t know how this boy’s life will pan out. The mum will probably not go back to work. I wanted to show her trying to live her life as best as she can. Overall, the film is an ode to motherhood.

Duraie worked with renowned Tunisian cinematographer Farouk Laâridh, who was also DOP on Kaouther Ben Hania’s arresting Four Daughters. Together, they use imagery and symbolism – such as water – to convey a quiet sense of impending doom, as Nadia and Basil’s relationship becomes more strained.

So many Arab films have so much blabber. I wanted to make a film like Celine Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, which tells a complex story with barely any dialogue. I wanted to try and make the Aftersun [film by Charlotte Wells] of the Middle East. I was also inspired by the films of Xavier Dolan.

Few films address the impact of schizophrenia on sufferers and their families. Duraie was keen to address the harmful stigma that exists around this issue, in Jordan and internationally. Recently, authorities and clinical experts have made efforts to address mental health challenges in the country. But factors linked to the wider, unstable geopolitical context — including a high refugee population living in a state of transience and precarity — exacerbate these challenges.

Not Jordanian enough

However, the bigger struggle Duraie faced was telling a story that didn’t pander to international funders’ problematic expectations of the region.

Europe was against this film, they didn’t want it. It wasn’t Jordanian enough, it didn’t fit the stereotype they expect. “Where is the Muslim culture? Why is the mum drinking in a bar?” I told my producer I want to make this film even more now. I want to show the West.

Since the 1990s, European states – chiefly France and Germany – have heavily invested in cinema co-productions with West Asia (and the wider Global South). They have undeniably proved instrumental in the making and distribution of some fantastic, eye-opening films, such as those of the Palestine Film Lab. Yet, this dynamic can leave filmmakers at the mercy of colonialist attitudes or particular agendas peddled by certain funders.

Speaking at a conference on funding, Amal Ramsis, founder of the Women Filmmakers Caravan, which supports films made by Arab women, said that, although co-productions were financially necessary, “co-producers focus on European cinemagoers. Not ours.” And so, many institutions expect films that pander to crude stereotypes and complete misconceptions.

‘Don’t make the film that the funders want

Duraie shares anecdotes from screenings in Canada of audiences claiming they didn’t know women could drive in Jordan or that people there spoke English. In the end, her producer Alaa Alasad was able to secure funding, primarily from regional institutions like the Arab Fund for Arts and Culture and the Doha Film Institute.

He said to me ‘You know what, Zain? Make the film that you want to make. Don’t make the film that the funders want, just so we can get money. We’ll manage without them’. My producer managed to get all the money from the region on his own, and he’s a first-time producer. Nobody really knew him as a main producer, and he just pulled it off.

So far, Duraie’s film has been met with wide acclaim amongst the international audiences that have seen it. It has resonated with so many people who have either suffered from similar mental health conditions or who have had to support family members going through something similar. By crafting such an intimate tale, Duraie has allowed it to resonate universally. In the words of Berlinale World Cinema Fund’s Vincenzo Bugno regarding successful film projects: ‘the more it’s local, the more it will be international’.

The film is at the tail-end of its festival run. To keep an eye on its general release dates, you can follow the official Instagram page.

Featured image via IMDb