Patrick Mulcahy on Palestinian generational drama
All That’s Left of You, written, produced and directed by Palestinian American Cherien Dabis, who also appears in the film, is a gripping drama that describes the effect on multiple generations of one Palestinian family of the creation of the State of Israel. The closing presentation at November’s London Palestinian Film Festival, the film covers selected incidents over a seven-decade time span, falling short of more recent events. The intention of the film is to offer a more nuanced and sympathetic portrayal of Palestinians, disconnected from their demonisation post 7 October 2023. Dabis’ film and Annemarie Jacir’s Palestine 36 are among a series of movies that re-state the case for Palestinian sovereignty to be respected and, by implication, call for an end to further Israeli annexation of Palestinian land. They illuminate the past in order to challenge Israel’s ‘national security’ narrative.
The film begins in 1988 with two teenagers being caught up in a seemingly spontaneous protest against occupying Israeli forces. Noor (Muhammad Abed Elrahman) is felled by a bullet. The story moves to 1948 and describes how Noor’s grandfather, Sharif (played as a young man by Adam Bakri) is forced to evacuate his family for their safety after a series of ever closer attacks by Israeli forces. He stays behind to mind the property and the family’s orange groves until his position becomes untenable. We learn of broken promises – Palestinians not being able to retain their property – and of a compromise; a deal made to protect a few Palestinians in Sharif’s neighbourhood.
We next meet Sharif in 1978, the elder patriarch (Mohammad Bakri) living with his son, Salim (Saleh Bakri), daughter-in-law, Hanan (Dabis) and seven-year-old Noor (Sanad Alkabareti). Noor is a boisterous child, energetic, demanding in a boundary-testing way, but likeable. When he persuades his father to combine a trip to the pharmacy with a detour for ice cream, the trip ends with a life-changing encounter with an Israeli patrol as the pair unsuccessfully try to beat a hastily signalled curfew. Salim is humiliated in front of his young son, and Noor detests his father for his apparent cowardice, but what seems to us necessary responses to ensure his own survival. It doesn’t help Salim that Noor idolises his father, who describes his role in resisting Israeli occupation. Sharif and Noor sing a patriotic song, which Salim wishes to silence. The disappointed seven-year-old grows up to become a self-confident teenager, whose political action is instinctive rather than planned.
Salim doesn’t tell any family member what happened during the evening of his humiliation. Dabis chooses not to make him her protagonist. Rather, we are kept in suspense as to whether Noor will receive treatment – his injury requires specialist surgery from an Israeli hospital. A permit is required. There is also the problem of Noor’s missing identity document – he dropped off his bag containing it at his friend’s house in the film’s energetic opening.
The film then takes a heartbreaking and unexpected direction. It doesn’t present Palestinian victimhood per se, rather agency. Moreover, it dwells on a connection made between a hitherto unknown Israeli family and Noor’s parents, who are shown as elderly expatriates returning to land that was once Palestinian in order to gain closure.
The film asks whether a gesture offered by a Palestinian family can make a real difference. The answer in the film’s coda is ambiguous. There are those who watch the film who might think Salim humiliated his son a second time for the choice he and his wife made, though Salim is more resistant to the request than Hanan. We are not told whether Salim and Hanan sought justice for their son’s injury or whether they accepted what happened to him as part of the price of staying put. In the 1978 sequence, Salim’s father is shown suffering from a form of dementia, leaving the family house in search of an orange grove. Living day-to-day in an occupied territory without resorting to violence requires selective perception, choosing not to acknowledge certain injustices.
Emotionally, we relate to Salim and Hanan’s behaviour as parents. The 1988 sequence pulses with urgency. The film is very effective as a family drama to the extent that we never think about the politics of their actions, only their humanity.
In a long-running, unresolved situation in which there is no quid pro quo, can a film like All That’s Left of You make a difference? Fresh voices, different experiences, and a willingness to build bridges – films and the opinions they stir can shatter binary perceptions. There is no “them and us” as the saying goes, just us.