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 Posted by Aron on November 10 2005 (Thursday) : 10:00 PMWhen a friend recently invited me to see the film, Paradise Now, I decided not to go. The reality of the conflict is depressing enough, who wants to see yet another depressing film about it, especially about suicide bombers? But then I read the review below and I've totally changed my mind. Just when despair seems the only option, you read about someone like Hany Abu-Assad, and your faith in humanity and the human spirit is restored. As an added bonus, Shimon Peres lost and a socialist now leads the Labor party. Among all the depressing news there are glimmers of light.... Make films, not war By Goel Pinto Israeli viewers know they're in trouble the moment the two heroes of the film "Paradise Now" make their way to an attack in Israel, with bombs fastened to their bodies, and are almost caught by an Israel Defense Forces jeep patrol. At this moment, spectators are seized by panic, and nearly cry out, for fear they'll be caught. This is moment they understand that the film, which deals with the things central to our lives here, is nothing more than a film. At the beginning of Hany Abu-Assad's film, which is being screened at the Tel Aviv Cinematheque today, the two heroes, Said and Khaled, played by Kais Nashef and Ali Suliman, are seen working in a garage in Nablus. Their lives seem ordinary: work, shy glances at a pretty young woman who speaks Arabic with a French accent, and smoking a nargileh accompanied by a glass of cold tea in front of the ugly houses of the city. But at nightfall they are given the opportunity they have been waiting for: to embark on a suicide attack in Israel. In an interview, which took place at the Tel Aviv Cinematheque, Abu-Assad is even more strongly opinionated than in the film. In the film, he doesn't preach to either side; he comes out neither in favor of one, nor against the other. In the interview, on the other hand, he agrees that were he not a filmmaker, he probably would be a suicide bomber. He has a good recollection of the exact moment at which he understood the suicide bombers: "I was at the Qalandiya checkpoint," he says, "and an Israeli soldier decided to stand me up against the wall with several other people. We stood there, under the burning sun, for three hours. A sense of humiliation overwhelmed me, and I felt I was losing my humanity. For the hours I was standing there, I was afraid to do anything, for fear that if I just moved my head, the soldier would kill me. I felt like a coward, I began to hate myself for not doing anything. For a month after the incident I was impotent. I felt I was no longer a man. At that same moment, I understood the suicide bombers: The moment you kill yourself, together with the enemy, you kill your impotence and make them impotent. I'm only glad I have the talent to express my impotence in a different manner." Abu-Assad emphasizes his goal was to make a thriller, and not a film with a message, and he is glad most of the audience sees it that way. "People go to a movie because of the subject, but they stay and enjoy themselves because it's only a movie," he says. "Even I was surprised at the reactions, but I understood I had succeeded. The film provides an opening for a discussion of the subject, that's why nobody leaves with a sense of anger, as though the director had told him how and what to think. Both in the writing and in the filming, I found it very difficult to find the balance, so that my personal opinion would not influence the plot and the message." Abu-Assad says that even when he screened the film in the United States, in front of a Jewish audience "even more pro-Israel than the Israelis," as he puts it, he was surprised at the reactions, and at their openness to dialogue. Most of the Palestinian spectators also demonstrated openness, he says, although some criticized the fact that the occupation and its injustices are not reflected in the film. "We are familiar with the occupation, it's not necessary to make a film about it," he says. "That's why I chose something that in my opinion serves as an opening for dialogue, between Israelis and Palestinians and among ourselves." Abu-Assad, a native of Nazareth who defines himself as a Palestinian, directed his first short film, "Paper House," in 1992, about a youth who builds a paper house after the IDF destroys his home. He directed his first feature film, "The 14th Chick," in Holland, where he lives. Since then he has directed "Nazareth 2000," "Ford Transit" and "Rana's Wedding." The script for "Paradise Now" - whose name recalls "Peace Now" as well as "Apocalypse Now" - was Abu-Assad's entry ticket to the prestigious writing workshop of the Sundance Festival, where he spent two weeks about two years ago with the best teachers, and worked on his script. "That was paradise, because it's the only place in the world where you're allowed to make a mistake," he says. Filming was hell On the other hand, he says, "the filming was hell." Hearing the stories about the production of the film, which ended at the beginning of the year, one can understand why Abu-Assad wants only to sleep. "The entire process was too dangerous," he says. "I'm dying to sleep and I can't because of the pressure, but also because of the sense of collective humiliation. I wouldn't do it again today. I prefer sleeping to making a good film." I have interviewed Abu-Assad in the past, and this time he looked different, exhausted. He shivers when he recalls the filming. I think one can say that Abu-Assad, a Palestinian from a wealthy family, who lives in Europe, discovered the ugly occupation. "I knew there was an occupation," he says, "but that's different, because I never spent such a long time in the territories. I would always come and go, spend a few days there, and go back. I had seen Israeli tanks before, but I hadn't seen them in the middle of the street. That's such a shock, because it's a very ugly and frightening thing. It's like one of the actors said to me: `Before we spent a long time in Nablus, the occupation was an item on television, and if you didn't want to see it, you could switch channels or turn off the TV. Now it's impossible to switch channels. It's in your head all the time.' "When you spend six months in Nablus, you're under threat all the time," adds Abu-Assad. "You're afraid the Israeli army will drop a bomb, which will kill innocent people. You also have to protect yourself from the anger of the Palestinian population. I understand their anger: They want to see their heroes as superheroes, and not as people with doubts and weaknesses." This desire caused a number of Palestinians to enter the hotel where the film crew was staying, armed with rifles and to kidnap the production manager, demanding the filming be stopped immediately and that the crew leave the area. "We phoned the office of Arafat, who was himself in prison in the Muqata at the time, to help us release the production manager," says Abu-Assad. "Fortunately, other factions in the population were opposed to the kidnapping and angry about it. They claimed that people who are fighting for freedom must defend it, even when it comes to those who are making a film they don't like." Keeping the humor In one of the amusing scenes in "Paradise Now," the two young suicide bombers are seen being brought to a secret place where they are supposed to film the videotapes on which they explain the reasons for the suicide. The scene is full of humor, mainly because it dissipates the anger felt by the Israeli spectator when he sees these pictures on television. In the film, the pair, two bunglers, are forced to film the clip over and over again. The scene was filmed in Nablus, at an actual site where terrorists film themselves before embarking on a suicide mission. Abu-Assad was afraid there, too: "The concept was to film a thriller where the real events occur," he says, "but everyone was under pressure, especially me, because we knew there would be people there who would test us. I was afraid the moment they saw the humor in this scene, they would stop us and wouldn't allow us to continue." And in fact, immediately after the filming of the first take, someone shouted to Abu-Assad: "Stop!" Fortunately, the man only wanted to show them how to hold the rifle properly. "Even the people there understood," he says, "that humor is a part of every real thing that happens to us in life." Not only does the humor dissipate the anger, so does the use of two young and very handsome actors. When Abu-Assad sends his heroes to Tel Aviv to carry out the attack, he also dresses them in festive black suits, in which they not only stand out, but look even more handsome. "At first I thought of dressing them in Hasidic garb, including side curls," he says, "but I felt that was too close to the reality. In the end I chose to present them as caricatures, in order to emphasize the humor." The women in the film openly express their opinion against the attacks. "Most of the mothers are opposed to the suicides of their sons," says Abu-Assad, "but they don't dare to deal with it, because that would force them to take action. For example, there was a case when a mother suspected her son was going to carry out an attack in Israel and she called the Israeli army. She gave up her son, who is now in prison, because she preferred that to death and murder." It is the male figures in the lives of the two young men who are missing from the film: The father of one was hanged, because he collaborated with the Israelis, and the voice of the other is not heard. The reason for that is also based on the Palestinian reality. "According to one of the studies on the subject," says Abu-Assad, "many of the suicide bombers, who saw their fathers humiliated by the Israeli army during the first intifada, accuse them of weakness and are angry they didn't do anything. That's why the two heroes simply have no fathers: One is weak and the other was a traitor." Abu-Assad is one of the only Palestinian directors who continued to participate in dialogue with the Israeli side, even during the difficult years of the intifada, and is one of the few who agreed to screen their films in Israel, too. Perhaps that stems from the fact that the sense of foreignness is not alien to him: "I'm a Muslim in Nazareth, which is a Christian city," he says. "I'm a Palestinian in Israel, and come from a wealthy family and live among a poor population, and I'm an Arab in Europe and a foreigner in Holland. But I'm never against people, not from Israel, either. Politics are to blame, not the people. In every place there is good, bad and ugly." Today Abu-Assad believes that his job, like that of other creative Palestinians, artists and intellectuals, is to assume the role that in the past belonged to the Jews. "We lost the war," he says, "and we are willing to accept the defeat, but we refuse to accept the blame. The State of Israel has gone too far. It wants to rewrite history, to claim we are to blame for everything, and to remain with clean hands, and we won't agree to that. We must keep the story alive - just as the Jews did for 2,000 years. All the nations of the ancient world were erased, and only the Jews - the people and the language - remained. Now the Palestinians are in the same situation, now they are a nation that refuses to surrender, no matter how much power is used against it." International scandal About two years ago, Abu-Assad was involved in an international scandal, after Haaretz wrote that his film "Ford Transit" - which won the Spirit of Freedom award for best documentary at the International Film Festival in Jerusalem - is not a documentary at all. The story made waves at every documentary film festival, and gave rise to a profound discussion of the limits of what is permissible in the genre. At one of the discussions that took place at the International Film Festival in Amsterdam about two years ago, Abu-Assad was harshly criticized. In about a month he will return there as a winner. Every year the directors of the festival invite an important documentary filmmaker and ask him to choose 10 documentary films that influenced him. The invitation is considered a great honor. This time Abu-Assad was chosen, and the films he has chosen will be shown to the festival audience. "About two years ago I was the `bad guy.' I'm interested to know how it will be now, how they will receive me," says Abu-Assad. "I hated that period, after the story was publicized. I have enough nightmares in life, I didn't need that. Although it turned out in my favor, and people are still talking about the film and it made me known, I hated being in the middle of a debate. That's why I'm so happy that `Paradise Now' is being so well received in the world, and is not causing an uproar." Abu-Assad's words are an understatement. The film had its world premiere at the Berlin Festival, where it won three prizes, and was afterwards sold to about 50 countries. "I still don't understand how the film was sold both to the United States and to Iran," he says. < | >
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"Entre los individuos, como entre las naciones, el respeto al derecho ajeno es la paz -- Among individuals, as among nations, respect for the rights of others is peace" -Benito Juárez
"It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it." -Eleanor Roosevelt "Let them call me a rebel and welcome. I feel no concern from it. But should I suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul" -Thomas Paine | |
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