It’s hard to think of an Irish film-maker who can compete with Frank Berry for gritty tensions and authenticity. Working in the social-realist tradition of Ken Loach, the Dublin director has, to date, meticulously researched his community-rooted milieu to produce such powerful works as I Used to Live Here (2014) and Michael Inside (2017).
Aisha is crafted from experiences within this country’s direct provision system and doubles as a damning indictment of the private contractors who profit from the misfortunes of others. Black Panther’s Letitia Wright plays the title character, a Nigerian refugee who fled to Ireland following the murder of her father and brother.
The trauma she has survived is compounded by the small aggressions she faces on a daily basis. The list is endless. She misses her bus and is late for work after a security guard demands identification. The hostel where she lives is reluctant to heat up the halal food she has purchased herself.
She finally finds some companionship with Conor (Josh O’Connor), a security guard, who surreptitiously allows her access to the microwave. Their blossoming friendship, however, is threatened by her transfer, a displacement that means she can no longer commute to work.
Hidden by One Society restaurant review: Delightful Dublin neighbourhood spot with tasty food and keen prices
Paul Howard: I said I’d never love another dog as much as I loved Humphrey. I was wrong
Gladiator II review: Don’t blame Paul Mescal but there’s no good reason for this jumbled sequel to exist
We had sex maybe once a month. The constant rejection was soul-crushing, it felt like my ex didn’t even like me
With the exception of chats with Conor, most of her interactions are wretched. Her defence of a roommate is deemed insubordinate and is duly punished. Even passing pleasantries – “Your English is good,” says one well-meaning client at the hair salon – are discomforting.
Far from being a white saviour narrative – an unwarranted accusation levelled at the film’s trailer – Aisha is a portrait of unassailable dignity in the face of cruel happenstance. Conor, poignantly played by the Emmy-winning O’Connor, has his own sad backstory to share.
Wright, who was so impressive as activist Altheia Jones-LeCointe in Steve McQueen’s Small Axe, does more with her eyes than most actors can convey with all guns blazing. Cinematographer Tom Comerford’s framing makes a coastal bus stop look like the loneliest place in the world. And Berry’s script – as with his star – is quietly seething.
