Two years later, Hormann had captured the essence of Dirie’s autobiography. Finding the dramatic arcs was the easy part: Dirie was born an African nomad in 1965 and sold into marriage at 13. But instead of becoming the fourth wife of a 65-year-old man, she journeyed alone through the desert for days, managing to track down her grandmother — a woman she had never met — in Mogadishu. She then traveled alone to London, although she didn’t speak a word of English, and while mopping a McDonald’s floor, she was discovered by fashion photographer Terence Donovan.
She scored fame as a model but left that life behind to focus on advocacy. After divulging that she had endured genital mutilation at age 3, she was appointed U.N. special ambassador for the elimination of that dangerous practice, which is still widespread in parts of Africa.
“It’s a ritual that’s 3,000 years old and still exists, and we had to put it in a kind of framing that allows for humor and drama,” Hormann said. “It’s a project that’s so full of opposites.”
Hormann had already found success in the comedic realm with movies such as “Guys and Balls,” about a gay soccer team, and “Father’s Day,” which follows a man’s quest to determine the real father of his children.
“I enjoyed entertaining people,” Hormann says, adding that she views comedy as a tool of survival.
She has a deft touch when it comes to humor, and the laughs in “Desert Flower” are tinged with an earnest sweetness. Hormann captures Dirie’s friendship with an eccentric aspiring dancer played by Sally Hawkins, while the fish-out-of-water shtick has the Somalian emigre proclaiming “Today is your lucky day” at inopportune moments. Actress Juliet Stevenson adds a dose of playfulness as a pretentious, no-nonsense fashion executive who nearly faints after seeing Dirie attempt to walk in high heels and demands to know if the aspiring model is hiding cellulite under her dress.
Yet, for all the humor, the most memorable scene is the most agonizing. Hormann chose to show the process of genital cutting. “I think I would have been a coward if I hadn’t included it,” she said.
The crew shot the African scenes in Djibouti using nomads for some of the roles, and the woman shown performing the procedure had been a practitioner for 40 years before quitting two years earlier.
The type of female genital mutilation performed on Dirie was especially invasive and entailed the removal of all external genitalia. What remained was sewn together, leaving a hole the size of a match head. Aside from the continual pain that follows the procedure, it’s not uncommon for the practice to lead to death, either immediately (from blood loss), soon after (due to infection), or down the road, as it often complicates childbirth.
The scene takes place in the desert and pans from vultures flying overhead to a tiny girl unleashing goose-bump-inducing wails. These few minutes verge on unwatchable, which is what Hormann was going for.
“I wanted that roller coaster of emotion,” she said. The payoff has been positive feedback at screenings around the globe, as well as an audience award at the San Sebastian International Film Festival. Meanwhile, the anticipated backlash has been almost nil.
“I think Sherry managed to really do a film that’s both sensitive and at the same time truthful,” said Ethiopian model Liya Kebede, who portrays Dirie in the film. “And I think that was really important to all of us going into this project, that we were going to talk about a subject matter that we hope this movie will help eliminate — but that it will not ostracize anyone.”
The ultimate test of that was to screen the film for the African nomads. When the movie ended, a father of six girls stood and said he had never looked at this tradition as an atrocity. According to the director, he vowed not to put his daughters through that pain, and about 20 other men stood to make the same proclamation.
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