BREAD & ROSES - Mark Reviews Movies

Bread & Roses, Apple Original Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 21, 2024

When the Taliban returned to Kabul, there was little opposition remaining. A scene early in Bread & Roses shows them walking into the city in a great mass of white robes. Some of them must be armed in that shot, but if there are any rifles among the group, the sheer size of the crowd, marching as if in a victory parade, is so overwhelming that the details are fuzzy—not simply because the footage was captured on a cellphone.

This happens the day after a woman named Zhara, a dentist in the city, celebrated her engagement to a man she loves. There's footage of the fiancé proudly announcing his intentions to marry her to the men gathered, as well as the party itself—full of music and dancing and joy. Before that, other shots of Kabul before the Taliban's arrival play out, showing a bustling city of tourist outings and children enjoying themselves at a playground and life going on as one would expect of a place filled with so many people, so many things to do, and so much history within it.

There is, notably, no mention of the war that had been raging for two decades within the country or of the growing Taliban insurgency taking over other places in Afghanistan. Did no one know what was coming, after a disastrous deal between the United States and the Taliban that excluded the government that made such a life possible in the city? Did people assume there would be Afghan government forces remaining or, maybe, that the U.S. military's withdrawal from the country would have had some contingency in place for something that had seemed unthinkable following the removal of the Taliban from power?

That it was unthinkable, perhaps, is the reason the Taliban's sudden return and capture of Kabul does seem such a surprise to Zhara and the other women featured in Sahra Mani's documentary. They had lives made possible by the Taliban's initial defeat and the rise of a more liberal-minded government, and those lives were good. Women were educated, could take whatever jobs they wanted and were qualified to do, and, despite whatever social and familial expectations might have existed, possessed the freedom to do those things.

The changes to their lives, as portrayed by way of on-the-ground journalism and private diaries with cellphones, aren't instantaneous. Zhara continues her work as a dentist, still prepares to marry the man she loves, and starts allowing meetings of women's rights activists to take place in her office. People are worried about what's coming, because some of them have seen this before or at least have heard about the restrictions of life under the Taliban, but surely, the systems, policies, and political philosophies that had become part of Afghanistan would or, at least, could hold.

There's little understanding of a clear timeline in Mani's film, except that we know Zhara's engagement party happens on the eve of the Taliban's return, gunfire can be heard in the night before their arrival, and, then, they're simply there, prepared to take back power. It comes slowly but inexorably in our perception of the events, and that must be what it felt like for these women.

One day, Zhara is doing her work as she would any other day, taking patients and helping to train other women dentists. Then, the new Taliban government begins closing down the schools for girls and women, also denying them entrance into any other learning institution. The jobs for women come next, and soon enough, Zhara doesn't know if her office will remain open or if she will be allowed to work.

One day, Sharifa has her own job within the government, but with that gone, she has nothing else to do. She would like to join the women activists, protesting the dissolution of freedom in the country, but her family worries what could happen to her or, especially on the father's mind, how they would be perceived.

One day, Taranom leads those protests, but then, Taliban soldiers begin cracking down on them with violence, using threats, high-pressure water hoses, tear gas, and pepper spray. She has to flee the country, because women are being imprisoned or disappearing, and soon finds herself at a safehouse in Pakistan, where she can only watch and hear about all of the work—and the rise in those arrests and disappearances and even killings—happening in her absence.

The energy, resilience, and courage of these women is encouraging and beyond admirable. They organize knowing that people are watching and listening for such activity, and they head to the streets fully aware that any one or all of them could be hurt, detained, or even killed. There seems to be something in the air as cellphone footage of meetings, protests, and gatherings of several activist groups keeps coming forward.

Then, something shifts. It's imperceptible, as in there's not a single moment or event that occurs to change everything for these women. They simply become tired of constantly fighting against the Taliban, their families, and shifts in the economy and governmental policy. The air becomes heavy, as there are fewer people on the streets, fewer businesses staying open on the block where Zhara's dental office is located, and fewer reasons to continue meeting and protesting.

Bread & Roses, then, isn't just an account of rebellion against tyranny. It becomes deeper and more dispiriting than that, as we witness resignation to authoritarianism is akin to hundreds of little cuts—irritating but tolerable at first but inevitably too much to bear and sometimes fatal.

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