AISHA (2024) - Mark Reviews Movies

Aisha, Samuel Goldwyn Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | May 9, 2024

Some opening text informs us that the story of Aisha comes from testimonies of current and former migrants to Ireland. Based on the complex and convoluted process on display in the movie, one has to assume those in the latter category are "former" migrants not because they became official Irish residents or citizens.

There are multiple moments in this story when the eponymous character, played by Letitia Wright, could become one of those former migrants. People who should be helping Aisha have it out for her, for reasons that seem petty in the big scheme of things. She's waiting for a hearing to determine if the immigration office will accept her application for refugee status, and that wait has gone on for years. Meanwhile, she has a mother at home, also hoping to leave Nigeria for Ireland, and while Aisha knows both of them stand a better chance if she stays in Europe, the temptation to return to her mother must be strong.

It's not only because her mother needs her. It's also because they are only members of the family still alive. A group of men killed Aisha's father and brother, because the father didn't pay back a "loan" to them, taken so that she could attend university, on time. It's the only thing preventing Aisha from staying in her home country and with her mother, and if such a situation isn't one that constitutes a legitimate fear for one's life, what is?

That's one of several upsetting and unanswerable questions presented by writer/director Frank Berry's drama, which follows Aisha over what might be her final chances to gain international protection status in Ireland. Berry makes the point that, no matter how much obvious danger they are in, the odds are stacked against Aisha and, presumably, others who find themselves in a similar position in Ireland.

Everyone makes this process more difficult and confusing than it needs to be—from the managers of assorted hostels that house migrants seeking asylum, to strangers who harass or look down upon them, to the government itself, which has very specific things it wants to read and hear in order to grant that protection. Anything else or that strays from those parameters is either irrelevant or a reason for deportation.

Berry portrays that system infuriatingly well, as an ongoing and seemingly endless cycle of bureaucratic obstacles and empty figures working against the very role they're meant to serve. In doing so, the movie makes a solid case for examination and/or reform, but it's also frustrating in ways that aren't related to that central message.

Mostly, the narrative itself starts getting in its own way. That's especially true in the inclusion of one character who never quite seems to find his place in this story.

The focus does remain on Aisha, at least. Initially, she lives in a hostel, shares a room with another migrant, works as an assistant at a local salon to save money for her mother's eventual move from Nigeria, and is awaiting, as she has for years, the interview that will determine whether the government allows her to stay. There's a routine to all of this, of course, but Berry seems less interested in that than in the ways little moments, which could become consequential, break up that pattern.

Some are simple, such as customers at the salon asking where Aisha comes from—questions that could be innocent but that carry a tone suggesting a "wrong" answer from her. Her attorney (played by Lorcan Cranitch) is helping her prepare for the hearing, putting a very fine point on the fact that her spoken answers to an immigration representative have to exactly match what she wrote when she first arrived. Any little slip, act of misremembering, or detail that doesn't line up could mean a rejection of her application. Making matters worse, the manager of the hostel (played by Stuart Graham) treats the place like a prison of sorts, and he's not above putting the word "insubordinate" on Aisha's official record if she asks too many questions or doesn't follow the rules exactly to his liking.

The core of the story is sound and solid, as Aisha is moved around, has her already-difficult life repeatedly upended, and must contend with a system that, not only makes this possible, but also intrinsically judges her worth and, in a strangely inhumane way, the apparent worthiness of her experiences. Wright's performance is effective, particularly in how she internalizes Aisha's trauma, which is revealed—without her wanting to say it, by the way—later in the movie, and the frustration of dealing with a system that doesn't seem to care about who she is, what she has undergone, and what the uncertainty is doing to her.

The big issue with Aisha is Conor (Josh O'Connor), a new security guard at the hostel who becomes Aisha's friend. That he respects, listens to, and understands her is obviously the point of his character, but his transparent existence simply for that bare-minimum level of compassion feels out of place, especially since his presence and affection for Aisha raise a potential solution that Berry seems too hesitant to put forth. Perhaps the filmmaker doesn't want Conor to save the protagonist, but that only makes his role in the story into a passive kind of savior. Aisha's story should be and is strong enough to stand on its own.

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