The original title of the 2009
film, The String, is
Le Fil, which actually translates as thread rather than string. These
two English words have different connotations and this bears on the film’s
leitmotif. Whereas a person can string another person along, a thread has a
connotation of linking people emotionally. The thread that ultimately succeeds
in the film is that of caring, which is antipodal to hurting, emotionally
speaking. In this sense, the film is like The Holiday (2006),
another romantic drama in which the good guys (and gals) wind up on top. In terms
of the theme of caring and not hurting other people, that The String centers
on two gay men who fall in love whereas The Holiday is about two
heterosexual couples matters little, though the resistance to homosexuality in The
String is an additional hurdle. I contend that like The Holiday, The
String can provide audiences with how falling in love can proceed naturally
without exploding because one person hurts the other. In other words, the ethical
wins out in both films in regard to emotionally intimate romantic
relationships, and in this respect the medium of film has value in terms of
ethics.
In The String, Malik
returns to Tunisia from France to live in his mother’s house because his dad is
dying. Malik has been unwilling to tell his mother Sara that he is gay, and
she is unaware of his sexual prowess with local guys, including one of his
cousins (who gets “turned on” not only having sex with a cousin, but also paying
anonymous guys for sex). It is no accident that Malik and his cousin sniff a “substance”
as they are kissing in a bathroom, for there is no emotional connection between
the two men that would bring the sex to a higher intensity naturally. Meanwhile,
Malik is gradually falling for his mother’s houseboy, Bilal, who, crucially, is
falling for Malik. “One-sided love” simply does not work; it is too unstable an
element not to explode at some point. Once Malik and Bilal mutually realize
that they are falling for each other—perhaps the most beautiful thing of which
two human beings are capable—and neither is afraid of the emotional intimacy,
two things happen.
Explicitly, Sara discovers her
son and her servant intertwined on Malik’s bed the next morning while the two
are still asleep. It is not as if Malik has drawn an invisible line down the
middle of his bed as a way of rudely informing Bilal that bodily touching is
off-limits while Malik is asleep. Sara, a Catholic, immediately goes to her cancer-stricken
husband Abdelaziz, who is a Muslim, to inform him that their son is gay. Interestingly,
he defends his son’s sexuality, pushing back on Sara’s disapproval. This is ironic
because Abdelaziz’s family did not approve of Abdelaziz marrying a Catholic
woman. Both from that experience and her husband’s opinion on Malik being gay,
Sara relents and accepts her son’s homosexuality, and the fact that her son is in
love with one of her servants.
The second thing that happens
once Malik and Bilal have consummated their deep romantic (not just sexual
attraction) affection for each other is very subtle but very, very important.
Malik stops “sleeping around.” It is not that Bilal has insisted on monogamy;
rather, Malik no longer is motivated to have sex with other men. I suspect that this is due to the natural
willowing of focus that happens when someone falls in love with another person.
It could also be that physiological sex alone pales experientially relative to
sex with a beloved. There is one scene in which Malik is running his fingers
down the backside of Bilal’s naked body in bed. Relative to the intimacy—even love—shown
in that scene, anal (or virginal) sex can seem superficial and even contrived.
This is not to say that people who fall in love should necessarily be monogamous;
rather, the implication is that even an “open” relationship of (a reasonable
amount of) separate physical sex with others pales in comparison to the depth
of emotional intimacy that can manifest sexually for two people who are in
love. It could be that were a sequel to have been made of Malik and Bilal years
later, their love would be solid enough even though the sex has become stale
that they would be fine with either or both of them having non-emotional,
physical sex with others from time to time, assuming that neither would impose
this on (or hide this from) the other. Separate sex with romantic connection
or feelings for another person is another story, however, and the emotional
hurt that either Malik or Bilal would feel is so engrained in (normal) human
nature that such an imposition would be unethical, even before marriage.
Malik and Bilal do not marry,
as it is presumably illegal in the Muslim country. Because Malik has promised before
falling for Bilal to enter into a contractual marriage with his cousin
and friend, Syrine, in order that her baby, when born, would legally have a
father even though Malik is not the biological father, and her unmarried
pregnancy would not be discovered in that conservative society, Malik and Bilal
have difficulty deciding whether Malik should follow through with the marriage.
Bilal is against it for obvious reasons, but Malik wants to help Syrine. It is
not as though Malik would be living with Syrine, so with the help of Sara
helping her son and Bilal on this emotionally difficult matter, Bilal agrees
and even stands as Malik’s best man. After the civil (i.e., non-religious) wedding
ceremony, Sara has Malik, Bilal, Syrine, and her bridesmaid repeat, “The
marriage is only for the good of the child.” Everyone is on the same page, and no
one his hurt emotionally. Even though the expanded arrangement is
unconventional, it is arguably ethical precisely because everyone’s feelings
are taken into account. Malik’s benevolence to Syrine (and her baby in standing
in as his father) and the love of Malik and Bilal for each other (for they are
living together as a couple) are compatible.
In both Augustine and Leibniz,
justice is love as universal benevolence. That the benevolence is universal, we
are all due benevolence from others, which means that none of us deserve to be
hurt emotionally. This is why it is significant, albeit subtle, that Malik puts
Bilal first, rather than imposing emotional hurt on Bilal by dismissing his hurt
feelings regarding Malik technically marrying Syrine. The marriage goes forward
because Bilal’s misgivings have been adequately addressed not only by Malik,
but also by Sara, who has essentially adopted Bilal. As she says at one point, he
is now a guest, not a servant. This is why I believe it can be concluded that,
hypothetically, were Bilal to object to Malik continuing to have anonymous sex
after he and Bilal have bonded (which Malik does not do in the film), Malik
would stop having sex with others so Bilal would not be hurt emotionally. By
implication, were Bilal fine emotionally with Malik having non-emotional,
physical sex sometimes with other men, Malik’s doing so would not be unethical
or detrimental to his relationship with Bilal.
Hence my conclusion that the ethical, good guys (and gals) come out on top in the film. Caring is the thread that runs throughout the story. Sara has come around on Malik being gay and she even helps her son and Bilal on whether Malik should help Syrine by marrying her and helping her raise her baby, whose father is another man. Abdelaziz, having overruled his parents’ objections to him marrying Sara, a Christian, pushes back against Sara’s prejudice against gays and even urges Malik to tell him the truth regarding his cancer. Last but not least, Bilal and Malik have such a bond of connection, affection, and even love that neither treats the other’s emotions as an externality that can or should be disregarded or indifferently run over. The film thus presents a moving picture of family and romantic relationships as they should be, ethically speaking, even if they are not conventional.
