Mumbai Film Festival: Difret - A call for change and the power of intent

A familiar ache sets in soon after you settle in to watch Ethiopian film-maker Zeresenay Berhane Mehari's debut feature, Difret. You witness a casual occurrence of the grossest of human rights violations, against the most frequent of targets - the female. Yes, Difret is based on a true story. 

The film may be set in a remote village in Ethiopia, where it isn't merely acceptable, but is considered a time-honoured tradition for a man to abduct a woman whom he wishes to marry. Yet, the resonance that this tale has is universal. In this film, a gang of men kidnap and injure a teenaged girl, following which the man who 'desires' her goes on to rape her. Variations of this story pepper our world, and those are only the stories that we hear of; the ones deemed newsworthy. 

Hirut, the young braveheart whose body is violated, doesn't take it lying down, however. She escapes, and when her life is in danger, she retaliates. Her rapist is killed, and local practice decrees that a woman who kills a man must face instant death and be buried with the man she killed. Unsurprisingly, this seems to be taken as law by the villagers.  

Hirut's plight draws in a young woman named Meaza, a lawyer who works at a non-profit organisation that fights for women's rights, and provides legal counsel for those in need. Idealistic and fearless, the film follows Meaza the most. Difret, which means 'courage', is essentially the story of Meaza's battle of justice for Hirut. 

Meaza's struggle may seem like an oft-heard narrative - David taking on a Goliath-esque system that's entrenched deep and rotten to the core. The grotesque reality of this familiar story still strikes hard, though. You begin to question humankind's devolution into the ugly, warring, patriarchal species that we've become today. 

The questions that Difret raises are difficult, and there are no answers. Where and when was it decided that the male of our species had power over the female? What is the origin of the sense of entitlement that most men seem to have, particularly when it seems so counter-intuitive to natural law? Are you supposed to meekly accept reality and succumb to it? Or are you supposed to fight this losing battle, only because there's honour in standing up for what you know to be right?  

These questions have been raised time and again, and so often in the recent past. Difret's victory, then, lies in the fact that it doesn't make you feel like these questions are being asked too many times. Instead, it makes you realize that unless these questions aren't asked unequivocally, louder and more often, the answers to them don't seem to be in the offing any time soon. 

True, there isn't much cinematic craft to appreciate in Difret. Technically, the film is merely functional, quite like the framing and composition. The story itself follows a fairly predictable pattern. There seems to be no attempt at nuance or subtlety. Everything the film-maker feels is right on the surface, with no attempt to provoke the mind. The intent, instead, is to tug straight at the heart. 

The sincerity of this intent shines through, though. Like Meaza's efforts in the story, director Mehari's film is a step in the right direction, particularly for a country like Ethiopia, where it is so much harder to complete and release a film. Difret reminds us that sometimes, to affect change, all one really needs is intent. That's where change begins.