Every story emerges from fascination for place: This is the key argument of French-Canadian director Antoine Bourges in his new movie Concrete Valley which was presented in the Forum section at the 73rd Berlin Film Festival. In Concrete Valley, “the place” is Thorncliffe Park, a residential neighbourhood of Toronto, known for its modernist architecture and its mainly non-Canadian-born population. Thorncliffe Park is the background for a reflection on the sense of loss that comes with every new beginning.
Rashid (Hussam Douhna), his wife Fahra (Amani Ibrahim), and their son Ammar (Abdullah Nadaf) have been living in Canada for five years. After leaving Syria, the two adults are frustrated. Despite their efforts to find their place in the new society, fulfilling their own expectations is a struggle. Rashid, a doctor in his country, can’t yet practice his profession in Canada. He attends English classes for migrants while refusing jobs he doesn’t consider up to his standards. Armed with a healing power that he’s not able to legally use, he gives medical opinions to neighbors and friends. This shows his deep solidarity for those who do not have easy access to medical treatments. Fahra, who used to be an actress, now works in a store while attempting to play an active role in the community. She volunteers in the trash-recollection group led by Saba (Aliya Kanani), a charismatic woman with whom she establishes a close and empowering connection.
When the two main characters are seen out of the context of their home, they represent themselves as individuals, rather than two parts of a couple. At home, the camera discreetly observes their intimacy, while they’re slowly splitting apart. Seeking to perpetuate his leadership role, Rashid fails to support his wife. Especially when she tells him about the daily misunderstandings with her colleagues, he is absent. On her side, Fahra projects herself onto an idea of social commitment. She is more prone to accept compromises in the name of a better future. Rashid and Fahra are stuck in this limbo, this space of transition between their previous lives and an uncertain future. On the other hand, their son Ammar is often portrayed while playing with other kids. He is already rooted in the new country and represents the otherness of possible integration.
Taking on from his own personal on-field research, Bourges spent a long time preparing for the movie. He started hanging around Thorncliffe Park regularly, before starting to outline the story in collaboration with Aleppo-born co-writer Teyama Alkamli. Despite the language barrier, the casting process drew from a community of Syrian refugees who arrived in Canada after the war of 2016. The participation of mostly non-professional actors, speaking in their own mother tongue, creates a hybrid atmosphere between fiction and docudrama. To avoid becoming an intruder, the camera is subtle and delicate. It suggests details at the edge or even out of the frame. If some elements are not explicitly shown, the sounds evoke a different layer of interaction between the scene and the surroundings. This way it brings in the pervasive presence of diverse human environments all around. Swinging from the apartments’ interior spaces to the neighborhood’s concrete valley, the spatial continuity is broken by a few interludes in a forest nearby. This natural setting represents an ambiguous territory where the characters can experience themselves outside of the constraints of society. There, the depth of the drama is revealed and an unsolved issue between what they feel and what they want to be becomes tangible.