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The streets of Paris are immortalised in cinema as the city of lights and amour. But the French capital gets a gritty makeover in Yann Demange’s new short film, Dammi. The French-Algerian filmmaker flips the script on Parisian clichés and the city takes on a different hue—one of searching and struggle, mirroring the emotional convolution of its protagonist Mounir. The film, a delicate 16-minute exploration of identity and reconciliation, has already made waves at the Toronto International Film Festival and has now approached its international streaming release on MUBI. It stars the ever-versatile Riz Ahmed, who embodies Mounir with a grace that is just as tender as it’s tempestuous.
Demange handpicked Ahmed for this deeply personal project. Growing up in foster care and grappling with his Algerian-Muslim roots, Demange poured his own vulnerabilities into Dammi. The film is as much about him as it is about the character of Mounir, a man adrift in Paris, estranged from his father but finding solace in Hafiza (Dune: Part Two’s Souhelia Yacoub), a French Algerian woman with Persian heritage.
A still from ‘Dammi’
| Photo Credit:
MUBI
“Yann made himself incredibly vulnerable by telling such a personal story,” the Brit-Pak actor, rapper and activist says, reflecting on the film’s rawness. “In the film, I play Yann, and Yann’s father is played by his actual father. They’ve not been in touch for a long time, so making this film was one of the first times they spent so much time together.”
Ahmed’s portrayal of Mounir is not an impersonation of Demange but a channelling of the director’s essence. “I didn’t think about impersonating Yann. I know the soul of this piece is from Yann’s soul. I know him well, so I just tried to find the truth moment to moment with the other actors,” Ahmed explains. This truth-seeking approach results in scenes that are incredibly poignant and just as powerful, particularly those between Ahmed and Yacoub, both exhibiting some mesmerising chemistry as they wade through the streets of Paris.
A cornucopia of metaphors
Dammi is replete with visual metaphors, none more striking than the recurring motif of drowning, symbolising Mounir’s struggle for self-discovery. Despite its brief runtime, the film offers layers of interpretation, holding up a mirror to our own identities and relationships.
Ahmed’s voiceover in the film strikes a poetic chord, reminiscent of his work in The Long Goodbye. Ahmed’s 2020 concept album daringly recasts the UK’s relationship with British Asians as a toxic love affair gone sour post Brexit and far-right resurgence.
Both projects dig deep into the idea of belonging and estrangement, resonating deeply in today’s age of identity politics. Ahmed’s subsequent eponymous short film which earned him his first Academy Award, draws parallels between these works, emphasising their shared exploration of personal and political landscapes. “These themes resonate with many people today,” Ahmed notes. “We live in an age of identity politics, and Yann addresses this in a personal and vulnerable way. Themes of belonging, identity, and living in no man’s land are things I think about a lot. Many people can connect with those feelings.”
Exploring bolder choices
The actor’s career has been a journey through a plethora of colourful characters and genres, from his breakout role in Nightcrawler to his Emmy-winning performance in The Night Of, and more recently, his acclaimed turn in Sound of Metal. Each role seems to push him out of his comfort zone, a conscious choice that speaks to his artistic ethos. “There’s less of a unifying logic to my choices other than what allows me to explore and pushes me out of my comfort zone. If something makes me feel unsure or a bit scared, that’s what attracts me,” he says.
Working on Dammi offered Ahmed a unique sense of freedom, a testament to Demange’s directorial style. “Working with trusted collaborators means you don’t have the tension of responsibility hanging over you. Trust helps you feel free, not judged or assessed, just supported,” Ahmed reflects. “Yann’s openness and willingness to explore, even with such a personal story, set a remarkable tone. He cast his own father and didn’t seize up with fear or try to control everything. He created an environment of openness and exploration, which encouraged all of us to explore as well.”
A still from ‘Dammi’
| Photo Credit:
MUBI
Ahmed’s recent projects seem ripe with the selfsame spirit of exploration as he ventured into animated outings like the triple-Oscar nominee, Flee (2021), as well as Animated Feature nominee, Nimona (2023). He sees animation as a frontier for socio-political storytelling, pushing boundaries and challenging perspectives. “Some of the best stories have something to say about the world and challenge us to see things differently,” he observes. “ I don’t separate cinema into political and apolitical storytelling. All storytelling is political because it’s a way of looking at the world. Even stories we don’t consider political are making decisions about what they don’t say. The role of the artist is to challenge us, expand us and stretch our hearts and minds to see the world a bit differently.”
In its short yet exceedingly impactful narrative, Dammi fully encapsulates this idea. It is a film about finding oneself in the midst of chaos, about the longing for connection and the journey towards reconciliation and a touching reminder that sometimes, the shortest stories can leave the longest-lasting impressions. As Ahmed puts it, “It’s rare to make something so personal and beautiful with collaborators you love and trust, especially in a city like Paris.”
In conversation with Yann Demange
Can you walk us through the conception of this short? I was thinking about your roots, but I’d like to hear the real story behind it.
I never initially intended to make a very personal film. I was approached to create a film set in Paris, with the city as a centrepiece. I was hesitant at first, but after being encouraged to find something related to Paris, I began to reflect on what the city meant to me.
I was born there but left abruptly as a child; I frequently visited not my French family, but my Algerian family, especially during Ramadan and Eid. For me, Paris was always linked to Algeria. It wasn’t until I made ‘71 and experienced modest success that I saw another side of Paris through festivals and film events. This evoked feelings, memories, and identity issues I thought I had moved past. This film explores what Paris means to me now and my need for more connection, family, and perhaps a father.
Following your experience with feature films for you, how liberating, creatively speaking, is shooting a short film?
It is liberating. I wanted to escape the constraints of conventional filmmaking and the challenges of getting a film made while preserving its essence. As people become more risk-averse and algorithms dictate decisions, there’s more control and fear. This short film offered me a chance to experiment—a break from the usual pressures. It was scary without a conventional story to hold onto. Unlike my previous works, this film felt closer to poetry. My co-writer, Roza Atab, and I sought a different visual grammar. Short films should stand on their own, not mimic features. I wanted the freedom to experiment and learn, like when I started. Now, I aim to work more in Paris and French cinema, while continuing with studio projects. This short film helped me explore that path.
Riz repeats the line “I’ll never find a different ending to the past” throughout the film. Within that context, how did the final scene come to be?
I aimed for that final image because I have a sense of hope. I wanted the characters to transcend their barriers and connect. I envisioned them soaking wet, facing each other with vulnerability. Once I had that image, the rest started to fall into place.
The film portrays Paris in a unique way, almost like a limbo. Was it interesting to depict characters in Paris differently from the typical romantic or dream destination portrayal?
Yes, the American gaze on Paris often involves existential conversations at iconic locations like Pont Neuf or Notre Dame. But when I think of Paris, I think of my experiences in areas like Barbès, Pigalle, and Porte de Clignancourt, where I spent time with my Algerian family. These areas are often portrayed as rough, but I have a lot of love and nostalgia for them. There’s a beauty in these parts of Paris that is rarely highlighted, and that’s what I wanted to capture in the film.
Algerian Independence Day is right around the corner on July 5. Does Gillo Pontecorvo’s ‘The Battle of Algiers’ influence your filmmaking style and storytelling? Are there any contemporary Algerian filmmakers who inspire you?
Contemporary filmmaker Karim Aïnouz, a Brazilian-Algerian, is incredible and inspiring. Everyone should watch his work. ‘The Battle of Algiers’ has had a huge influence on me. In fact, my aunt is in the film—she plants the bomb in the milk bar and hides behind the hidden wall in the house. I saw that film long before I ever thought about being in film, and it has cast a shadow over my entire life. While ‘The Battle of Algiers’ wasn’t a direct reference for this short film, it’s so embedded in my psyche that it bubbles below the surface. I can’t think of Paris without thinking of Algiers, and I can’t think of Algiers without that film being part of the fabric of my experience.
A still from ‘Dammi’
| Photo Credit:
MUBI
Dammi is currently streaming on MUBI
