‘Yalla Parkour’ Review: The Fearless Parkour Athletes of Gaza Defy Gravity and the Territory’s Destruction

As a lifelong cinephile who has seen my fair share of documentaries and films about the Middle East, I found “Yalla Parkour” to be a compelling and thought-provoking piece. Areeb Zuaiter’s debut film is a unique blend of personal storytelling and political commentary, which makes it both engaging and challenging.

In “Yalla Parkour,” two contrasting perspectives on Gaza, one romanticized and another harshly realistic, collide somewhat imperfectly. This film, a debut feature by Areeb Zuaiter, a director born in Nablus and based in Washington D.C., won DOC NYC’s international prize. Over the course of ten years, this documentary was produced before the events of October 7, 2023. However, the director mentions the devastation of 2024 in a brief prologue and closing credits.

Zuaiter constructs an editing style that intertwines Ahmed Matar’s Gaza parkour story within a narrative about his mother, her memories, and her identity. This method could resonate with certain viewers, but for this critic, it tends to overshadow the gripping struggles faced by the young Gazan.

In 2013, Zuaiter becomes captivated by thrilling online videos of a daring group of Khan Yunis boys performing parkour stunts on what appears to be a sandy rooftop, with an ominous cloud from an explosion looming in the distance. Using internet messaging, she develops a long-distance relationship with Matar, the teenage cameraman in this group, who is an up-and-coming parkour athlete. As Matar continues to share their incredible, energetic videos filmed amidst devastated landscapes, Zuaiter finds inspiration and resilience in their activities.

As a fan, I yearn to witness the sea that stirs up my nostalgic memories depicted in Zuaiter’s voiceover narration, but Matar’s videos primarily showcase boys transforming devastated and deserted structures into their playgrounds. From the picturesque remnants of Barquq Castle to a mall reduced to rubble, an unfinished Rafah airport, and a local cemetery, they execute daring, gravity-defying feats that in another country might have them as champion high divers or acclaimed gymnasts. However, in what Zuaiter calls the “open-air prison” of Gaza, their athletic prowess feels like a taste of freedom. Matar harbors dreams that his videos will spark an opportunity for competition beyond Gaza’s borders and pave the way for genuine liberation.

Not all members of the parkour team possess Matar’s good fortune and agility. We witness a teammate called Jinji attempting to scale the intricate surface of a tall building, yet he falls from such a height before reaching the summit. Subsequently, we see Jinji being admitted to the hospital with over 50 fractures. His situation was so severe that it necessitated medical attention in Israel; however, obtaining the necessary permits to depart Gaza took longer than a week.

As Jinji’s case proves — and Zuaiter shows — life in Gaza requires the patience of a saint. When Matar takes on the labyrinthine and expensive task of applying for a visa, he is rejected four times. After he finally receives one, it expires before he can get a permit to leave through Rafah crossing. Zuaiter asks: Why does he want to go? “There’s no future in Gaza,” comes the reply.

The film’s editing becomes less smooth near the one-hour mark, as it transitions from 2016 to 2023. It turns out that Matar managed to leave Gaza and has resided in Malmö, Sweden for seven years now. At his current age of 24, patience remains crucial for him, as he cannot go back to Gaza until he secures Swedish citizenship. In the meantime, he’s employed at a gym instructing children and frequently contacts his family and friends via video calls. However, the brief details given about Matar’s new life feel somewhat inadequate considering how closely we’ve been tracking him.

Due to not being able to personally go into Gaza, Zuaiter employed multiple cameramen within its borders over time, capturing some of the water scenes she longed for. The lively, raw footage of parkour boys serves as a contrast to the melancholic shots of Zuaiter at her computer, either drawing or looking at family photographs. Similarly, the muted tones of Gaza are juxtaposed with the winter’s snowfall and spring bloom visible from Zuaiter’s window in D.C. Diab Mekari’s beautiful yet understated multi-layered score ties together the diverse segments of the film.

The acknowledgements section reveals that unfortunately, three individuals from the camera team, one sound technician, and one parkour performer from Gaza have passed away since the movie’s completion. The film offers a heartfelt recognition to these individuals by mentioning their names.

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2024-12-07 21:46