Films of Resistance: A Night of Shorts

Films of Resistance: A Night of Shorts was held at the Genesis cinema in London. The programme of Palestinian shorts was put together by the newly created Films of Resistance initiative, backed by magazine Culturala. This was Films of Resistance’s first screening and was by all accounts a resounding success, practically selling out the 500 seater screening room. The initiative works as a sort of decentralised collective who share and screen Palestinian films. The screenings’ proceeds go directly to supportive filmmaking efforts on the ground: firstly, by purchasing and sending practical equipment to the Jenin Culture Centre to train the next generation of filmmakers, and secondly by allocating specific funds and support to individual directors who are in various stages of developing their short films, with the help of a board of experienced industry professionals. Anyone in the world can organise their own screening by getting in touch with the Films of Resistance team.

The films shown were:

- An Orange from Jaffa (2023) by Mohammed Almughanni

– One Minute (2015) by Dina Naser

– The Silent Protest (2019) by Mahasen Nasser-Eldin

– Bethlehem 2001 (2020) by Ibrahim Handal

– 120 KM (2021) by Waseem Khair

The normal reactions in An Orange from Jaffa shown by the protagonists to the daily challenges and to the extraordinary and awful circumstances they face really brings home the reality of what living with checkpoints is like for those that are forced to go through them. There’s humour in Mohammed’s frustrated calls to his worried mother, and tension in Farouk’s jeopardy. We’re all at the edge of our seats. We are left on this edge but offered an orange from Jaffa as a moment of sweetness to cleanse our palate for a short moment of joy. We’re reminded that Palestinians, and those living in the impossible circumstances of occupied territories, are held to the same standard as free people: they are forced to try to function as if they are not impeded by huge systematic infrastructure, reinforced with brute force. This depiction is made all the more engaging in the simple setting of the car, while likely an economic and practical decision on behalf of the filmmaker, it allowed us an intimate glimpse into Mohammed and Farouk’s interactions.

Time is often slowed in films, but one minute felt as short as it no doubt feels to all those who have had a message like the one in One Minute. Set during an Israeli-imposed power outage and relentless bombing, based on the 2014 Israeli massacre in the Shujaiya refugee camp, this film is set entirely in the dark with the only glimpses of light coming from the character’s phone. The darkness, withholding the character’s face, accompanied by rolling text messages rich with humour and crisp sound was beautiful. This cinematographic choice was also very effective, and delivered the expected punch. It felt like we were presented with a snapshot of one person’s experience of the massacre, one real person we empathise with, whose anguish is multiplied a hundredfold across all the residents of Shujaiya and the rest of Gaza beyond. The darkness of the screen felt like sensory deprivation that heightened the rest of our senses, and allowed us to engage directly with the characters. Without a clear physical depiction, we are less inclined to ask ‘are they like me?’, or ‘are they like us’, which is human nature, and therefore, less inclined to distance ourselves from their circumstances and their choices.

The Silent Protest makes me think of Soraida: a Palestinian woman. Soraida shows us how she resists, in her actions, reactions, choices, and her simply existing unapologetically. The history depicted here immediately sparked a question Soraida posed: “Is this the time to rally for women’s rights when no one has rights?”. The Silent Protest’s answer is a resounding yes because these issues are intertwined, they feed each other and dismantling one supports the dismantling of another, and gives way to justice. Mahasen takes us through the women’s movement against the British Mandate’s anti-Arab bias in 1929. It shows us how they tried to prevent what they foresaw, which was the beginning something ugly that was snowballing and was going to become a devastating avalanche if not stopped.

If I were to find fault, it would be that I wish it had been more gripping. However, I don’t know that I can ask that of a personal and important re-creation and body of research? I am more inclined to feel grateful for the window the film offers into the actions of the indigenous people of Palestine when they witnessed the the beginnings of occupation, and how they mobilised.

Bethlehem 2001 has an exciting premise that sends many of us tumbling through the depths of our memories to recall our own past in the spirit of Ibrahim’s character. While the context is occupied Palestine, themes around accessing our earlier memories as adults to try and piece together our childhood, make sense of our traumas and reflect on how we saw our parents then versus now, are universal and timeless. Ibrahim’s film is still fresh, slow and really holds your attention as we journey together through memories.

Waseem travels 120 KM on an artistic tour of Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut. “For 70 years these people haven’t seen their country, don’t we owe them 2 years of our lives?”; this is Waseem, a Palestinian living in Occupied Palestine, talking about Palestinians of the 1948 Nakba, living as refugees in Beirut and missing the home that Waseem has come from to bring to them. He refers to the possible 2 years’ imprisonment he faces at the hands of Israel for embarking on this trip. Waseem is refreshingly honest with us, the audience. He is at ease while clearly aching as he sits amongst his kin, sorry that he gets to go home while they can’t. It’s shocking to see Waseem, a Palestinian filmmaker who will in fact be jailed upon returning to Occupied Palestine for making this very documentary, express guilt for being able to go back to his occupied homeland. He’s shaken by the reality of Palestinian lives 120km away, outside of the system of occupation but as perpetual refugees. To Waseem, he is privileged in comparison because he still lives at home, whether occupied or not.

The programme sparks hope in resistance, and does well to show its audiences, whoever and wherever they are, that Palestinian people dare to exist and dare to keep making art.