Finally there is distinguished presence of Iraqi films in a film festival. In the BBC Arabic Festival 2019, more than five productions (short features and documentaries) by Iraqi filmmakers entertained us today in the BBC festival, shedding light on a country in trauma, artists searching for platforms, and films articulate beauty amid ruins.
As an Iraqi, I was not only proud to see these films telling the story of where I came from, but I was also relieved to see Iraqi artists and filmmakers given enough space and receiving recognition for their works.
I could be wrong, but since leaving Iraq, I felt that Iraq had been excluded or its artists were not given the opportunity to participate in festivals addressing the Arab and Middle East art and cinema. It may not be intentional or that Iraqi artists did not promote films as Arab peers, but what I am certain of is that Iraqi literature, art and cinema does not often receive exposure equal to what other Arab countries, which went through relatively similar traumatic experiences.
But today I was happy. Short feature films about life in Baghdad, ISIS and the sex slavery business, documentaries about Yazidi fighter and artist who tried to create art in the aftermath of 2003, showed me today that Iraqi artists were reaching out and what they made was worth watching and is relevant to the overall picture of chaos and disorder in the region.
As happy and proud as I was with the participation of many Iraqi filmmaker, I found myself moved by Katia Jarjoura’s Only Silence, short film about a Syrian refugee in France. The film has simple storyline: a Syrian girl, Neda, was in the process of claiming asylum in France, while the rest of her family, her mother and young brother, were still in Syria. Neda couldn’t enjoy life, though she tried to find her place in Paris, because she was worried about her mother and brother. The last two scenes in this 30-mins drama were powerful and resonate, maybe, with the story of many refugees who had to leave their home countries on their own, leaving parts of themselves back to the dangers of war. Neda was skyping with her family when the family house was attacked by masked men, who took the mother and the brother away, while Neda was watching. The scene ended with one of the masked men staring at the screen and Neda was frozen in front of the laptop. The screen went dark, then Neda was shown, sitting in the immigration office, broken. A voice told her that her case was accepted, ‘welcome to France’ it said, but Neda was not giving a reaction. She couldn’t even show that she cared anymore. What mattered to her had been gone, taken by war and ruin. The country, the family and the man she loved, all were lost.
In the Q & A following, a man noted the melancholic atmosphere of the films about refugees, rejecting what he deemed as lacking hope and ‘depressing’. In another film festival a lady had made the same criticism about and Iraqi film addressing the issue of exile and being refugee in a melancholic way. Before the directors came to answer the comment, most of the audience had released sounds of resentment towards such comment and approved Jarjoura’s response that where we came from was depressing and sad; that our countries had been lost to wars and we might not recover that even we lived in Paris.
As an Iraqi, I was not only proud to see these films telling the story of where I came from, but I was also relieved to see Iraqi artists and filmmakers given enough space and receiving recognition for their works.
I could be wrong, but since leaving Iraq, I felt that Iraq had been excluded or its artists were not given the opportunity to participate in festivals addressing the Arab and Middle East art and cinema. It may not be intentional or that Iraqi artists did not promote films as Arab peers, but what I am certain of is that Iraqi literature, art and cinema does not often receive exposure equal to what other Arab countries, which went through relatively similar traumatic experiences.
But today I was happy. Short feature films about life in Baghdad, ISIS and the sex slavery business, documentaries about Yazidi fighter and artist who tried to create art in the aftermath of 2003, showed me today that Iraqi artists were reaching out and what they made was worth watching and is relevant to the overall picture of chaos and disorder in the region.
As happy and proud as I was with the participation of many Iraqi filmmaker, I found myself moved by Katia Jarjoura’s Only Silence, short film about a Syrian refugee in France. The film has simple storyline: a Syrian girl, Neda, was in the process of claiming asylum in France, while the rest of her family, her mother and young brother, were still in Syria. Neda couldn’t enjoy life, though she tried to find her place in Paris, because she was worried about her mother and brother. The last two scenes in this 30-mins drama were powerful and resonate, maybe, with the story of many refugees who had to leave their home countries on their own, leaving parts of themselves back to the dangers of war. Neda was skyping with her family when the family house was attacked by masked men, who took the mother and the brother away, while Neda was watching. The scene ended with one of the masked men staring at the screen and Neda was frozen in front of the laptop. The screen went dark, then Neda was shown, sitting in the immigration office, broken. A voice told her that her case was accepted, ‘welcome to France’ it said, but Neda was not giving a reaction. She couldn’t even show that she cared anymore. What mattered to her had been gone, taken by war and ruin. The country, the family and the man she loved, all were lost.
In the Q & A following, a man noted the melancholic atmosphere of the films about refugees, rejecting what he deemed as lacking hope and ‘depressing’. In another film festival a lady had made the same criticism about and Iraqi film addressing the issue of exile and being refugee in a melancholic way. Before the directors came to answer the comment, most of the audience had released sounds of resentment towards such comment and approved Jarjoura’s response that where we came from was depressing and sad; that our countries had been lost to wars and we might not recover that even we lived in Paris.
No comments:
Post a Comment