Maryam Touzani's latest feature film, Calle Málaga, which is Morocco's official entry for the 2026 Oscars, captivated audiences at the Marrakech International Film Festival. This poignant narrative, set against the vibrant backdrop of Tangier, explores themes of belonging and memory through the story of a Spanish woman clinging to her cherished home, blending humor and emotion in a tribute to the director's roots and personal loss. Selected to represent Morocco at the 2026 Oscars, Maryam Touzani's latest feature film was screened on Sunday evening at the Marrakech International Film Festival (November 28–December 6, 2025). Winner of the Audience Award in the Spotlight section at the 82nd Venice Film Festival, the film follows Maria Angeles (Carmen Maura), a 79-year-old Spanish woman living alone in Tangier, whose quiet life is disrupted when her daughter Clara (Marta Etura) arrives from Madrid with plans to sell the house. Determined to keep her home and recover her belongings, sometimes by buying them back one by one, Maria Angeles refuses to imagine spending her final years anywhere else. Her neighborhood routines, her deep community ties, and her familiar landmarks, the Tangier church, the cemetery where her husband is buried, are far more meaningful to her than family obligations. Clara, a young divorced mother facing financial pressure, sees no other solution than selling the quirky house. She urges her mother to move into a retirement home if she wishes to stay in Tangier, or to follow her to Madrid to be closer to her grandchildren. This clash sets off a series of poignant and often humorous events that question belonging, memory, family bonds, and love in old age, crafted in a delicate, balanced tone that makes the film especially affecting. Through Maria Angeles, the viewer journeys into a Tangier medina rich in scents and sounds: spice shops, old cafés, grocery stalls, and the mix of Real Madrid and FC Barcelona fans coexisting with good-natured fervor. For the protagonist, leaving this world is unthinkable. Clara's Madrid represents the unknown, and above all, uprooting. In this interview, director Maryam Touzani explains to Yabiladi how the film is a tribute to the city of her birth, Tangier, the city of her Spanish grandmother who married a Moroccan. It is also an intimate work shaped by the loss of her mother three years ago, an absence transformed into creative energy in Calle Málaga. Your films often reveal your attachment to meaningful places. «The Blue Caftan» was shot in the medina of Casablanca. For «Calle Málaga», you chose the medina of Tangier. What do these places evoke for you? My choice naturally fell on Tangier, given the deeply painful context in which I wrote this film. Losing my mother was an incredibly difficult moment. With her passing, I felt as if half of me had disappeared, we had such a strong bond, and her death was so unexpected. This film became a way to transform that pain. Tangier is my mother, and Tangier is my home. I couldn't imagine returning there without her. Writing and filming were my only ways of going back and continuing to move forward, just as she always encouraged me to do. Every corner of Tangier holds a memory of her. She grew up on Calle Málaga. I began my cinematic journey after my father's death, and now I've made this film after my mother's. To return to my city without her, I had to fill that absence with joyful memories and give meaning to them after the loss of loved ones. It was also important for me to show Tangier as a special place, its kindness, coexistence, the living-together spirit, inclusion, and the respect among everyone. I grew up in that environment, and I wanted to share it with others. In a way, this film is a love letter to Tangier, a city where this spirit remains deeply alive, and where many Spaniards, like my grandmother, still feel deeply rooted. They cannot imagine living, or dying, anywhere else, even when their children live abroad. Often, films depict a desire to leave Morocco. This one speaks of those who are determined to stay. You often focus on old objects and personal belongings. Are the objects in «Calle Málaga» family heirlooms or recreations? Yes, the record player in the film belongs to my parents. For the shoot, several models were suggested, but I chose the family one because I grew up with it and listened to music on it. Likewise, the kitchen mortar belonged to my great-grandmother, passed down to my grandmother, then to my mother, and finally to me. These objects have real symbolic and emotional weight. I insisted on including them because the film is also about transmission, our identities are made up of places, encounters, and cherished objects that shape who we are. Maria Angeles Muñoz's house is a reflection of herself, all her objects are there for a reason. They carry memories and have a soul. I searched for them because they help tell her story. The walls of her home have seen so much; they would have plenty to say if they could speak. Ph. FIFM This is also why I spend so much time scouting real locations rather than shooting in studios. I need to feel things physically. As we grow older, I think we become more aware of this idea of belonging. Your films feel as if they were written like novels. Is writing itself a way for you to turn grief into creative force? Writing has always been vital for me. I started out as a journalist, and expressing myself through words has always been essential. That continued even after cinema became my path, through short films, documentary, and fiction. My greatest inspiration has always been literature. I'm passionate about books. What moves me about this universe is the relationship that forms between the reader and the character, or the viewer and the protagonist, the ability to step into someone's inner world, their thoughts and questions. That's the inspiration behind my writing and directing. Grief has always run through my films. It began with When They Sleep, continued with Adam and The Blue Caftan. In Calle Málaga, grief is present through the memory of those who leave and how we preserve that memory. My grandmother is buried in the Tangier cemetery you see in the film, alongside the objects and places linked to family history. Loss, death, and memory continue to shape my films because cinema has always been a way for me to heal and make sense of life. All of this feeds my writing.
