Worth: $14.00
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Cast:
Elia Suleiman
Intro:
...a kind of everyman lens through which we can have an affectionate view of the world attuned to both its absurdity and its poetry.
This is a film about looking, about looking afresh and perhaps about waiting. Given that it is made by a Palestinian, the idea of waiting (when will that country finally be a country again in the eyes of the world?) is perhaps the subtext of the whole thing. But the freedom here is the freedom not to be directly political in one sense. We should also add that it bills itself as a ‘comedy’ and even reflects – via very occasional bouts of dialogue – that this is an ironic term in the context of Palestine’s ongoing struggles.
The centre of the film (though he wouldn’t call himself its hero) is the director himself Elia Suleiman. He starts off in Palestine and then decides to hop on a plane and see what is happening in various cities. He spends time in Paris, and in New York before finally flying home.
There is no getting around the fact that the film, with minimal dialogue and no actual plot or drama, is more or less a series of sight gags and quirky situations. Some of these are fleeting – for example Suleiman sees a series of tanks incongruously rolling through the deserted dawn streets of Paris. Others are little skits touched with surrealism, such as when some latter-day Keystone Cops chase a female white-winged ‘angel’ through Central Park. The spirit of Buster Keaton and Chaplin and the great era of silent films also informs the work.
Some scenes, perhaps slightly reminiscent of Wes Anderson, make gentle comedy from the unlikely appearance of unintended symmetry. At other times, Suleiman is there mostly as a witness. He is a mildly engaging figure with his simple gestures and his benign blank stare. He is constantly surprised by the world, but he never seems to judge it.
Part Mr Bean and Part Monsieur Hulot (both references no doubt intentional) his is a kind of everyman lens through which we can have an affectionate view of the world attuned to both its absurdity and its poetry. The film does demand patience and a willingness to enter the director’s world view. The charm has to do all the work. As implied, given that there is really nothing else ‘going on’ except this slow-burn quirkiness, it is fair to say that you have to be in the mood to really enjoy it.
