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Two young girls from refugee camps in Bethlehem and Beirut share their dreams |
Mai Masri, Palestine/U.S., 2001, 56 min.
In Frontiers of Dreams and Fears, as with other Palestinian-oriented films that debuted at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival in New York City in June, nationality and religion are important. But in the end, the most important issue is the land. For Mona and Manar and their young friends living in the Shatila and Dheisha refugee camps of Lebanon and Israel, their Muslim identity is established; they don’t dwell on it. And they don’t resent Israelis for their Jewishness.
It all comes down to that ubiquitous land of Palestine. The girls bleed for their homeland and won’t rest until they win their villages, their land, and their freedom are won back.
Perhaps more than any other of the Middle-Eastern themed movies that premiered at the HRW Film Festival, Frontiers of Fields and Dreams – focusing on the children of the Shatila and Dheisha refugee camps in Lebanon and Israel – captures the hearts and tears of the audience in a way more intense, more powerful then even imaginable.
The movie packs a powerhouse of unavoidable passions. For Palestinian director Mai Masri, this is the third in a series of films on the children of Palestinian refugee camps.
Children are usually an easy subject for weepy films; but Masri’s documentary is so thoughtful that it doesn’t feel false. While the movie breaks little new ground in terms of content, it unapologetically pulls at the heartstrings.
Shot at the beginning of the Al Aqsa Intifada and during the liberation of South Lebanon, the film focuses on Mona, from Beirut’s Shatila camp, and Manar, from Bethlehem’s Dheisha camp. The girls, both involved in their own youth centers, meet via email and begin to exchange letters.
Their letters and conversations with the camera speak of a maturity thrust upon them. Mona’s existence in the squalor of the Shatila camp, with its dirty alleyways and tiny apartments all in the span of one cramped square mile, is conducive to an attitude of dejection and despair. Yet she maintains the feelings of any other teenager.
Manar’s life in Dheisha is almost comfortable by comparison - but still the life of a refugee. Born when her father was in prison, she plays on the streets with friends and spends much of her time at Ibdaa, the local youth center where she and her friends equally pepper all their conversations with Palestinian pride as well as teenage emotions.
But yearning for their homeland is at the crux of their being. They speak of Palestine with the passions and longings of the first-generation refugees originally ousted from their villages. It’s admirable, yet depressing to see the level of their maturity and commitment. One moment they are giggling and jubilant as they read each other’s letters and the next moment they tailspin into a downward spiral of tears and utter sadness.
Yet how else could it be? As children, they are lighthearted, but their surroundings and the constant presence of the Israeli army on the border coupled with flare-ups in their camps heap troubles on their shoulders. “Their moods change very quickly,” Masri said following the film. “The film took that route because that’s the way they are.”
This being Masri’s third film, with some of the same children featured as in her previous documentaries, there’s a feeling of real ease. The children speak so freely to the audience and among their friends that the camera seems a nonentity. Masri’s deft handling of an emotional reunion scene is especially skillful camerawork. She achieves angles and close-ups that bring the viewer to a level of near painful closeness.
Mona and Manar’s relationship climaxes in an extraordinary meeting when the Israeli/Lebanese border is opened for a week. They exchanged jewelry and dirt from their villages through the fence, stretching the barbed wire to exchange kisses. Other refugees hold signs with their names, hoping to find long-lost relatives across the border. When families do meet, they excitedly shouted their names and tore at the wire to touch each other. One mother passes her swaddled baby across to a relative for a long-awaited cuddle.
All the while Israeli soldiers use their guns to pry people from the fence, shouting for them to pull back. The entire scene bespeaks of years of frustration and longing to a draining extent. Yet Masri says it drains her not to shoot such scenes and make such films. “Making these films is like therapy. These kids, they’re so full of life. I’m becoming addicted to these kids.”
Frontiers of Dreams and Fears pulls every emotional string available. Perhaps the only drawbacks for Muslims is the lack of religious exploration and scenes of improper teenage flirtations. Time and time again with the HRW films on the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, it seems that nationality and land matters more than religion. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up for discussion. |
