Sharqiya

Sharqiya's power comes from several inversions. Kamel is a Bedouin. He lives with his sister-in-law and his brother in an unauthorised village set up in the desert of southern Israel. It's barely a village, just several sheet-metal shacks furnished with knick knack, found objects, and salvaged material. These huts are invaluable things that the authorities are about to level, however, and that the inhabitants will have to build again, as though nothing had occurred, waiting for the next destruction. This is the first inversion that aims to show exile, expropriation, and the blind labour of diggers, not in Palestine but in Israel. Then comes the second inversion, the man is required to keep watch over the others. Kamel is a guard. He, whose life is utter misery, is in charge of the bus station security. The third inversion is the most striking. Kamel has an idea. He doesn't voice it, but the audience follows precisely its course with his gestures and his looks. His idea is to plant a bomb in a station. To give himself like the one who found it, to act as a hero in front of the camera. To take advantage of the held-out microphones in order to arouse national interest on his fate. And therefore to prevent his dwelling from being levelled. The plan is good. It has got to work. It turns out that it won’t work all the way though. Kamel will have his fifteen minutes of fame, but that will not impact the decision of the authorities. So, everything remains to be done, to be done again. How better to suggest the disarray of Israel than by superimposing on the same face the three figures of the expropriated, the terrorist and the policeman? How better to denounce absurdity and impotence? Here, Ami Livne deals with Israel only. And yet, he’s arguably dealing with Palestine too. Sharqiya is a calm and composed film, which makes it all the more appalling, like a western of today’s despair.