‘This song is for all unhappy women;’ that is how the singer Papicha announces a heartbreaking song during her performance in the Algerian nightclub Le gorge rouge. Before Papicha returned to the stage after years of absence, a lot has happened in Viva Laldjérie. Fundamentalist terrorism in Algeria made Papicha stop working as a dancer. Her husband died (he died ‘of disgust’, according to Papicha) and she had to flee her house. She now lives in a lodging house with her 27-year-old daughter Goucem. Papicha leads a withdrawn and frightened life there, and Goucem takes care of her mother. By day the girl works in a photo studio, by night she leads a wild life. She has had a relationship with a married doctor for three years and occasionally he gives her money to pay the rent. Goucem can let off steam with the neighbour, the prostitute Fifi, who works out of her house. At least when she has time, because Fifi is successful in what she does. The way in which the three women balance between conformism and individual freedom is typical for the schizophrenic society in which they live. Nadir Moknèche shows in an impressive way how much the Western and Arab worlds have become intertwined in Algiers, the photogenic ‘white city’. That is also expressed in the title: Laldjérie is a conjunction of the French (l’Algérie) and the Arabic (El Djazair) words for Algeria. (LC)
