Capharnaum, a masterful cinematic work
I was reluctant at first, despite my good friend's urging, to actually spend the money to go and see the movie everyone has been raving about. I had the healthy skepticism of a Lebanese who was stung once too often by the promise of artistic greatness only to be seriously disappointment. Not so this time. I finally found my way to the theatre one afternoon and went in to watch Capharnaum in an almost empty theatre, which is rare for this movie that has seen packed theaters across the country. I like the 12:30 show, I feel other humans distract from the cinema experience as they shift one's focus from the big screen to their big heads.
There has been a lot said about this movie, I shall add very little that is new, suffice to say I thought it was masterful as a pure work of cinema that utilizes the full power of this incredibly impactful visual medium. Unlike many other local and Arab works that use dare I say 'too much' dialogue to communicate the bulk of the story, this film relies heavily on imagery and powerful tense moments most of which are centered on the face of Zain, the 12-year-old chief protagonist of the film. Incredible situations, great tragic circumstances, feelings of powerlessness, sadness, loneliness, tiredness and tenderness, anger and fear, are incredibly reflected in the most human way possible, in the face, in the eyes, in the long extended uncomfortable looks shot by the star of this movie at the audience from a 30-foot tall screen.
I could say its a story as old as time, our own version of Les Mis, and yet it is more that that, much more, it is not a 300-year-old text, but a very modern one, incredibly real, I would say almost a documentary in its conception and execution. This poor boy's circumstances are not magnified for dramatic effect, these neighborhoods of misery, are real, the adult exploiters of the weak and young are real, all too real. We see them every day although we do not see. These uncomfortable zones of misery are skillfully hidden, concealed from the patrician classes lest such things disturb their sleep too much. We see hundreds like Zain begging or hawking wares on street corners and at traffic lights, many more live in overcrowded rundown hovels unseen, unheard. this is a story that has more relevance than all the meaningless drivel and made up arguments of the political class. This is more than a work of art that offers the middle classes a comfortable seat in darkness from which to achieve catharsis, maybe shed a tear then go off and have a lavish dinner. This is a call to action, but I fear it is a call that shall go unheeded, one wasted on a country renowned for self obsession to the point of narcism, and xenophobic to its core.
The gulf that divides what we blithely refer to as 'society' is so great it is hard to imagine any species in the wild, in nature, behaving towards its various parts the way we so-called humans do. In Lebanon, that gulf is an ocean, today more so than ten or twenty years ago. When I first arrived off the plane from Dubai in 2005, I had many naive romantic notions about this country. My first employer once took me aside and told me in no uncertain terms "you are among the elite of this country, the top 10%." I believe it was his ham fisted way of stroking my ego and rebuffing any talk of a salary rise! However, ever since that discussion I have wondered "if I, who earns so little that I need to borrow to pay my bills, were among the top 10 percent, who were the bottom 10 percent? and what lives do they lead, what misery and wretchedness is their daily diet?" This movie gave me that answer and more, it battered my foolish idiot notions about society and fairness, it was like multiple buckets of ice cold water cast over my head. I am drenched, I am humbled, I am ashamed I am so powerless to make any difference what so ever.
This is not a classic happy ending story, it is probably one for which an ending is yet to be written, it is a story that repeats itself every day, on many street corners and in the alleys of Lebanon's many slums, it is one that does not stop when the lights in the theatre turn off, it is one that renews with every sunrise and dies a thousand deaths with every melancholic sunset. It is raw, unwashed, rude and disheveled, it is a wild story of a wild land, that which the poorest and most desperate call home.
There has been a lot said about this movie, I shall add very little that is new, suffice to say I thought it was masterful as a pure work of cinema that utilizes the full power of this incredibly impactful visual medium. Unlike many other local and Arab works that use dare I say 'too much' dialogue to communicate the bulk of the story, this film relies heavily on imagery and powerful tense moments most of which are centered on the face of Zain, the 12-year-old chief protagonist of the film. Incredible situations, great tragic circumstances, feelings of powerlessness, sadness, loneliness, tiredness and tenderness, anger and fear, are incredibly reflected in the most human way possible, in the face, in the eyes, in the long extended uncomfortable looks shot by the star of this movie at the audience from a 30-foot tall screen.
I could say its a story as old as time, our own version of Les Mis, and yet it is more that that, much more, it is not a 300-year-old text, but a very modern one, incredibly real, I would say almost a documentary in its conception and execution. This poor boy's circumstances are not magnified for dramatic effect, these neighborhoods of misery, are real, the adult exploiters of the weak and young are real, all too real. We see them every day although we do not see. These uncomfortable zones of misery are skillfully hidden, concealed from the patrician classes lest such things disturb their sleep too much. We see hundreds like Zain begging or hawking wares on street corners and at traffic lights, many more live in overcrowded rundown hovels unseen, unheard. this is a story that has more relevance than all the meaningless drivel and made up arguments of the political class. This is more than a work of art that offers the middle classes a comfortable seat in darkness from which to achieve catharsis, maybe shed a tear then go off and have a lavish dinner. This is a call to action, but I fear it is a call that shall go unheeded, one wasted on a country renowned for self obsession to the point of narcism, and xenophobic to its core.
The gulf that divides what we blithely refer to as 'society' is so great it is hard to imagine any species in the wild, in nature, behaving towards its various parts the way we so-called humans do. In Lebanon, that gulf is an ocean, today more so than ten or twenty years ago. When I first arrived off the plane from Dubai in 2005, I had many naive romantic notions about this country. My first employer once took me aside and told me in no uncertain terms "you are among the elite of this country, the top 10%." I believe it was his ham fisted way of stroking my ego and rebuffing any talk of a salary rise! However, ever since that discussion I have wondered "if I, who earns so little that I need to borrow to pay my bills, were among the top 10 percent, who were the bottom 10 percent? and what lives do they lead, what misery and wretchedness is their daily diet?" This movie gave me that answer and more, it battered my foolish idiot notions about society and fairness, it was like multiple buckets of ice cold water cast over my head. I am drenched, I am humbled, I am ashamed I am so powerless to make any difference what so ever.
This is not a classic happy ending story, it is probably one for which an ending is yet to be written, it is a story that repeats itself every day, on many street corners and in the alleys of Lebanon's many slums, it is one that does not stop when the lights in the theatre turn off, it is one that renews with every sunrise and dies a thousand deaths with every melancholic sunset. It is raw, unwashed, rude and disheveled, it is a wild story of a wild land, that which the poorest and most desperate call home.
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