By Wafa Thabet Mezghani
Short movie « Rock, Paper, Scissors » directed Chérifa Benouda
At this year’s International Amateur Film Festival of Kelibia, Tunisian director Chérifa Benouda participated in the national competition with her short fiction film Rock, Paper, Scissors, produced at the film school ESAC. The 15-minute work explores time, love, and the absurdities of bureaucracy.
From the very first frame, the film plays with temporality. It begins with the timeless phrase “Once upon a time” and unravels a story that is at once romantic, ironic, and deeply satirical. Benouda uses time not only as a theme but also as a narrative device through fast motion, time compression, repetition, and musical cues, in order to expose the frustrations of everyday encounters with Tunisian administration and, more broadly, the stifling of young people’s dreams.
The opening scene is deceptively idyllic. A couple, framed against the sea and forest like characters in a romanticist tableau bathing in “La Vie en Rose”, seems to inhabit a perfect painting where everything is harmonious. Yet this comfort is immediately disrupted when the young couple heads to a legal institution, where Tunisian administrative hurdles quickly turn their dream into a nightmare. A high-angle shot of the groom’s small head dwarfed by the imposing building emphasizes his vulnerability and the seeming invincibility of the obstacles ahead.
Time becomes the great enemy. Sharp irony arises from the contrast between the swift decision to propose and marry, and the long, irrational administrative procedures that obstruct this union. From the very first encounter with officialdom, time appears as an issue: the groom is brusquely informed that little time remains, only half an hour to bring witnesses and complete all procedures, because the administrator needs to leave. Inside the institution, everyone seems preoccupied: eating, fetching food, or wandering off the work site.
The witnesses, an unlikely trio consisting of a madman, a butcher, and a pregnant woman, are also in a rush, forcing the groom to cling to them desperately, as the mission remains incomplete. On top of it all, you are always missing a document for Tunisian administrations, and whenever you think it’s over, a new demand arises. Benouda uses repetition, accelerated motion, and piano music to highlight this absurdity. A certificate of good conduct is suddenly required, prompting yet another bureaucratic journey and more encounters with apathetic employees who show no respect for work, no appreciation of time. Humor here turns dark. People’s futures hang in the balance: important documents are mixed with spaghetti; phones are hung up to block communication; and the corrupt director, portrayed with bitter irony, is more concerned with stripping the groom of his belongings than signing the paper. A close-up shows him scanning greedily for what else can be taken. We laugh, but it is a bitter laughter, as we realize these irresponsible, corrupt figures steal not only our possessions but also our dreams and our future.
Time is also explored symbolically. The color orange, suspended between the red and green of traffic lights, signaling brevity, in-betweenness and awaiting, dominates the mise-en-scène. In the administrative offices, everything is orange: the walls, the props, the clock (shaped like a frying pan), even the boss’s hair. Time in Tunisian administration is always scarce, limited, and constraining.
Yet time can also end. By the conclusion, divine justice reminds us that time is not an infinite asset. In the final scene, the corrupt director is carried out on a stretcher: his time on earth is over.
Visually and stylistically, Rock, Paper, Scissors is a nod to silent slapstick cinema, particularly Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times. The characters’ hairstyles and costumes, the piano accompaniment, fast motion, and choice of “Mit Out Sound” evoke a parodic world where humor and critique intertwine. Benouda cleverly positions her story as a biting commentary on the present : more than 100 years later, Tunisia is still facing the struggles of Chaplin’s era.
