All That’s Left of You Isn’t Looking for Just Empathy

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In a unique blend of moral storytelling and family saga, Cherien Dabis’s film All That’s Left of You unfolds. This dual nature is what gives it its unexpected strength, though at times, it may feel slightly disjointed. Spanning 145 minutes, the narrative commences with a vibrant Palestinian teenager, Noor (portrayed by Mohammad Abed Elrahman), who participates in a street protest and impulsively joins in. When gunshots erupt, he ducks into a parked car as a bullet pierces the windshield. The boy is never seen again, and as the audience braces for the worst, Dabis shifts focus to Noor’s mother, Hanan (played by the director herself), who speaks directly to the camera, explaining that to comprehend what befell her son, we must first comprehend what happened to his grandfather. Without providing any background information about who, where, or why she is speaking, this sets the stage for the ensuing storyline.

The story then shifts to 1948, where we delve into the life of a prosperous Palestinian family residing in Jaffa, led by the wise and compassionate father Sharif (portrayed by Adam Bakri). He takes pleasure in cultivating orange groves and instills a love for poetry in his son Salim (Salah Aldeen Mai). However, ominous rumblings of explosions in the distance and unsettling news from other regions hint at the fragility of their tranquil existence, suggesting an impending war that will disrupt their lives. To ensure the safety of his loved ones, Sharif sends them away while Salim remains to negotiate peace and oversee the groves. As time passes, he deteriorates into a frail figure, compelled to perform laborious tasks for the Israelis who’ve seized Jaffa from the British rule. Meanwhile, his family is relocated to a refugee camp.

Throughout the movie, we follow the story of this family from 1978, through 1988, and beyond. Despite the broad scope of the storyline, it predominantly focuses on these particular individuals, giving little indication of a bustling world outside their home. Consequently, the relationships may appear formulaic and predictable, with peripheral characters serving primarily to reinforce certain points. This could be due to budget constraints and production chaos. (Dabis was planning to shoot the film in Palestine when the Israel-Hamas conflict erupted, forcing her to relocate.) However, this confined narrative style also mirrors the insular lives of the characters. As they are engulfed by war and displacement, their sense of isolation intensifies.

The power lies in the grand display of time’s passage: The captivating Sharif transforms into an old, bitter, shattered man (portrayed by Mohammad Bakri, Adam’s skilled father), continuing to yearn for his groves of oranges. Initially vibrant, Salim matures into a father figure himself (Saleh Bakri, Adam’s brother — one of the film’s main attractions is witnessing this Palestinian acting lineage), and in turn experiences oppression and torment at the hands of Israeli soldiers. As a headstrong young child, Noor (initially played by Sanad Alkabarete) later develops a deep-seated resentment towards his own father, perceiving him as weak in the face of aggression. These historical events underscore the unending cycle of humiliation endured by Palestinians. They carry a teaching message: They feel more like individual tales rather than a comprehensive narrative, and at times, the family members seem like characters in a play rather than fully developed individuals.

However, it’s important to note that Dabis’s method appears straightforward at first, but it effectively sets the stage for the story unfolding. As anticipated, the initial half of the movie, portraying a somber trek through the decades, serves as a prelude to Noor’s destiny. (Viewers who wish to avoid potential spoilers may want to exercise caution from this point.) Upon revisiting the opening scenes, we discover that Noor has been shot in the head but miraculously survives, though unconscious. His parents, Salim and Hanan, quickly rush to the hospital; unfortunately, the essential medical technology required for his treatment is only accessible in Israel. The arduous red tape associated with transferring a critically ill Palestinian child to an Israeli hospital for an immediate, lifesaving operation becomes another form of degradation – one that, in the end, is no less brutal or impactful than the physical abuse inflicted on other members of this family by soldiers throughout their lives.

Despite the early scenes that may have seemed predictably frustrating, the movie still holds some unexpected twists. As we delve deeper into Hanan’s backstory regarding Noor and his family history, a heart-wrenching and unforeseen predicament unfolds for this family. Interestingly, the later parts of the film All That’s Left of You transform from history lessons to a subtle, homebound drama, giving us a chance to truly connect with these characters. This shift brings a new dimension to them, making them feel more real and relatable. It’s a late revelation, but it adds depth to the narrative.

There’s a great deal of potential for overly emotional storytelling in this content, and one unexpected plot twist, which has tripped up many skilled artists before, is particularly noteworthy (though I won’t reveal it, but the title provides a clue). This could be the reason why Dabis portrays everything so matter-of-fact, at times appearing stoic. Resorting to excessive sentimentality or deep sorrow might disrupt the film’s nearly perfect structural balance that has been carefully crafted.

Is this scene authentic? Some aspects might initially seem off emotionally, making one question if the characters would truly react this way. However, this could be the intention. The characters’ subdued behavior serves as a reflection of the emotional numbness experienced by those who have been subjected to such extreme, surreal brutality over an extended period. Instead of the dramatic outbursts we might anticipate, this family has learned to keep calm and hide their pain, burying it deep within themselves. Essentially, All That’s Left of You doesn’t aim to evoke empathy. Instead, it subtly portrays the isolation that sometimes comes with survival. By the end, I was left feeling devastated.

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2025-01-26 07:54