How to Shatter a Glass Ceiling, One Note at a Time
She was a migrant and a misfit, but her musical passion was undeniable. “Divertimento” tells Zahia Ziouani’s inspiring story, with an added superpower — it’s all true.
You could say it’s a calling. Or just “in their blood”. However you put it, it’s très certainement that music sinks its symphonic talons into some of us and simply won’t let go. That’s definitely true of one of the few female conductors of worldwide renown, Zahia Ziouani (see? Even her name sounds melodic).
Now 46, the real Zahia and her twin sister, symphony cellist Fettouma, have toured the globe with their group Divertimento. It’s among the world’s great symphonic ensembles. But Divertimento is no glorified concert movie. French director Marie-Castille Mention-Schaar rewinds to the mid-90s to show us the metaphoric mountain the Ziouani sisters doggedly climbed in their teens — and the passion that drove them to reach the peak.
From the first note, it’s clear that Zahia (Oulaya Amamra) and Fettouma (Lina El Arabi) are consummate performers. At just 17, they’ve been accepted into Lycée Racine, a prestigious Parisian school with an enviable reputation in shaping musical prodigies. Zahia laps it up. She lives & breathes orchestral music, devouring her favourite scores by torchlight under her bedsheets. Her fantasies aren’t misplaced: Zahia has the potential to be world class.
Mention-Schaar shows this inner spark with small moments that bring us inside Zahia’s musical mind. She smiles watching her Mum whisk milk, the quick rhythmic pattern laying the beat for something more magical. Later, standing under a traffic bridge, Zahia’s melodic ear creates an opus from the repeating, bass-like thumps as cars hit the seams overhead. For Zahia, life’s “noises” create symphonies around her every day.
Yes, she’s young, but Zahia’s mature beyond her years. She dreams of conducting her own orchestra, saying “Music is my life. I only feel alive when I’m conducting.” But she’s keenly aware of three enormous obstacles in her way of that dream. She’s from an Algerian working class family. She lives in the “banlieues” (concrete housing projects) of outer suburban Paris. And — perhaps the biggest block in others’ eyes — she’s a woman.
How does Divertimento tackle gender, class, and race?
The Ziouanis live in Stains, a suburb 30 minutes north of Paris by car. But it might as well be a world away. Mention-Schaar organically inserts touches that give a strong sense of the sisters’ place in the world: a neighbour’s noise complaint when they rehearse in their parents’ cramped apartment; Fettouma’s joke that she feels “like a bag lady” with her old cello at their fancy new academy.
To say they’re ostracised might be a touch strong, but Zahia and her sister are immediately “othered” by their (clearly wealthy) peers. How much of this stems from their ethnicity versus their social status? We won’t go into France’s complex history with Algeria here (check out The Battle of Algiers or Far from Men to get a better idea), but when a cocky student hoots “Do you need a translator to tell us how to play?!”, it’s clearly stemming from racial prejudice.
Interestingly, this is the only example of overt racism in the film — every other difference the kids use as ammo is based on class. Before one of Zahia’s first rehearsals as orchestra conductor, the more entitled boys slyly protest by swapping her baton for a breadstick — ramming home that they don’t respect her, AND leaving a reminder of her perceived lower status. Bread is the “food for the masses”, after all.
It’s not just students reinforcing this gulf. When the same boys refuse to show for another, critical rehearsal, Zahia invites her peers from Stains — the “players from the suburbs” — to take their place for the day. But the head of school is incensed when he discovers non-Racine players in the orchestra. It’s obvious he should be disciplining the boys who skipped out — but as the sons of business & political leaders whose fees pay his salary, why would he?
Zahia’s no wallflower. She can brush off the digs at her economic disparity. What cuts to her core is the ingrained resistance she meets because of her gender. When guest maestro Celibidache (Niels Arestrup) visits, Zahia’s childhood hero waves off her conducting ambition, stating simply “it’s not a woman’s job.” That’s echoed by the head of school, who transfers the conducting role from Zahia to another (male) student. “You did well,” he tells Zahia as she protests, “but Lambert wants to conduct… and he’ll make a career out of it.”
Of course, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. How can women build conducting careers if they’re never allowed to conduct? Infuriatingly, the dean adds “You know how many female conductors there are? You know they’re not good.” It perfectly encapsulates how opportunities are denied to women and girls on the basis of misguided theories, rusted on over generations. In this classical world, gender lines may as well be chasms.
What does Divertimento have to say about the support of family?
For anyone less fortunate, crossing that chasm may be impossible. But director Marie-Castille Mention-Schaar keenly demonstrates how the support of Zahia and Fettouma’s parents, and the values they instil in their daughters, are vital to their success story. She shows this from the very first shot, where a young Zahia curls up on her father’s lap as they watch a famous maestro — Celibidache — conduct the Bolero on TV.
They may not be wealthy, but the Ziouanis are well educated. Their father values zealous study, commitment and tenacity. It’s clearly trickled down: Fettouma practices for hours a day, while Zahia spent her whole summer memorising every note of her favourite scores. It’s not a dictatorship, either. Their parents’ clear belief in their daughters is matched by the girls’ own drive; each symbiotically feeds the other.
Mention-Schaar includes key scenes acknowledging that those who have systems of support — like family — to soften their obstacles are fortunate by definition. Rich kids steal your crappy baton? Here’s a replacement we’ve saved for, gifted in its own special case. Neighbours complaining about late-night noise? We’ve built you a tiny rehearsal room, covered in egg cartons. (Chef’s kiss re: the girls’ joyous reaction to this — it’s one of the film’s best scenes.)
A similar running theme through Divertimento is that success at the extreme end of any field involves sacrifices from yourself AND from those closest to you. We see it when Paris is plunged into the 1995 labour strikes. Rather than risk missing any precious rehearsal time, Zahia’s father drives her and Fettouma to school at 3am, bleary-eyed, to avoid the traffic jams that ensued. “You’re either early or you’re late, that’s it”, he announces.
Perhaps the peak example, though, is when Zahia shares that she never learned Arabic as a child, because her parents only spoke to them in French. A paediatrician had (bizarrely) told them that two languages can confuse children. It’s a small yet fascinating insight into their sacrifice as parents. They made a choice to “dial out” a vital part of their own culture, to give their children a greater opportunity in life — and a stronger chance of success.
How does Divertimento explore self-belief?
This theme really lands in Divertimento’s second act, as Zahia falls under the stern but expert tutelage of Celibidache. Yes, the same maestro who dismissed her on his first visit. He recognises glimpses of something special, but reminds his new protégé “your music is not alive yet”. Kids would call it negging, but Celibidache isn’t just being dismissive. In that oddly obtuse way that cinematic mentors seem to share, he’s urging her to dig deeper.
Zahia’s conducting rehearsals are often superb, but these girls aren’t superhuman — they’re 17. They’re still subject to self-doubt and still susceptible to the pressure of competition. That’s only intensified by their mentors: after Fettouma’s cello tutor instructs her to double her daily rehearsal to 3 hours, she wins a performance medal. But he refuses it on her behalf — saying “I know she can play better.” Cue her tears of frustration, and we’re right there with her.
Divertimento hints at the cracks that can appear when you’re aiming for the highest level. Zahia notices her sister flirting with a boy, and reminds her she can’t fall in love now. “When can I then?” Fettouma fires back. “After senior year? After my diploma? After, after, after.” Mention-Schaar then immediately compares the stakes of a mere first crush against a lifelong relationship, when Celibidache admits that he left home as a teen — and literally never saw his father again. “It was music or nothing.”
The film also acknowledges a certain separation, almost a segregation, between artistic prodigies and us regular folk (this was a major theme of Bradley Cooper’s Maestro). Music might be a calling, but it can be a lonely one. What happens when your “self-drive” isn’t enough? Or you’re simply exhausted? At one point, Zahia admits to her flagging self-belief: “All I do is fight! Against the others. Against my fears. I’m not ready. Maybe I’ll never be.”
Needless to say, Zahia does pick up her baton again. At its swelling finale, Divertimento gives actress Oulaya Amamra a bravura scene, capped by a final look straight to camera as she exhales with relief and pride. It tells us all the effort was worth it. But more importantly, locking eyes with Amamra removes the divide between us and the performer. We’re reminded that Zahia Ziouani is real and alive — and we’ve just witnessed a true origin story.
So what’s the takeaway from Divertimento?
Love seeing conductors do their thing on the big screen? Us too, and we’ve enjoyed an embarrassment of riches lately — the intense pressure of a music academy in Whiplash. The downfall of a (fictional) maestra in TÁR. And the fractured family life of a true icon in Maestro. With Divertimento, we get a taste of all three: the origin story of a real life wunderkind who fought class and gender stereotypes to reach her own acclaim.
Classical music lovers will, obviously, be in raptures (side note: the orchestral music in the film was all performed and recorded for real on the film set, a process that Mention-Schaar described as being “essential”). You know those food films they say you “eat with your eyes”? Here’s a movie you can close those peepers for and heartily consume with your ears.
But the crescendo you’ll leave the theatre on — the final baton-swoosh? It’s the facts that appear as the credits roll, bringing us up to speed on the Ziouani sisters’ achievements today. While some are awe-inspiring (Divertimento, the orchestra, have now performed over 1,000 concerts worldwide), others are a reflection of how far we have left to go: only 6 percent of conductors in the world today are women. Yes, SIX.
Perhaps Divertimento, the film, can provide that inspo to the next Zahia Ziouani in waiting (and crucially, inspire the world’s artistic directors to look outside of the same, male boxes when they program their next orchestral season). There’s countless Zahias out there, reading music by torchlight under their sheets. And they’re just itching to pick up their batons and level the score.
Originally published at https://good.film.
