Visually Speaking

A clutch of Palestinian films masterfully use the visual motifs of the West Bank barriers and Israeli checkpoints to capture the cruelties of war

- Tanul Thakur

THE 2013 Palestinian drama Omar opens to its eponymous hero (Adam Bakri), a baker, standing beside a gigantic wall, his T-shirt fluttering in the wind. He waits for a series of cars to pass by. Because what he’s about to attempt demands secrecy and guile: scaling the West Bank barrier. As he grasps a long rope with all his might, planting one foot after the other, holding, slipping, struggling, the camera tracks back to show the extent and the essence of the wall—it’s filled with graffiti comprising a flower, a watering can, phone numbers, Arabic scribbles and, of course, the word “Free” beside a Palestinian flag. This is the wall Omar must climb every time to meet his girlfriend, Nadia (Leem Lubany), who lives on the other side of the Israeli-constructed divide. Sometimes, he slips away without notice; sometimes the security guards spot and shoot at him. A person has become a prisoner.

It’s these visual motifs—of the walls and the checkpoints—that mark two more critically acclaimed Palestinian dramas (among many) in the last decade: The Present (2020) and 200 Meters (2020). In the latter, Mustafa (Ali Sulaiman), a construction worker on the other side of the wall, talks to his daughter by switching a light bulb on and off on a terrace. In The Present, a father and a daughter, Yusef (Saleh Bakri) and Yasmine (Maryam Kanj), cross a checkpoint and deflect threatening security guards so that they can buy a wedding anniversary gift.