Contemplations on Belonging

We live in the era of movement. People and ideas constantly move, transforming themselves and their surroundings to a level that goes beyond the nation-state. The national is not irrelevant, at least while borders define people’s lives, but there are new perspectives to be found. Art positions itself in the center of the new cultural configurations, acting as a broker of cultural differences, but more importantly as a tool for expression and representation.

In the last decade there has been a creative explosion in film production among the different diasporic communities of Europe. Alongside, the flourishing of what we would call migrant cinema is an exciting phenomenon. I use the term migrant here as an umbrella term, to describe filmmakers who were not born and raised in the host-country. Migrant cinema used to be limited, mainly due to lack of opportunities and a demand for integration which left no space for artistic expression. However, the current cultural landscape can allow a movement to the “center” for communities that have been long in the “margins”, a dynamic process similar to what the British art historian and writer, Kobena Mercer, described.

In Europe, Arab-speaking filmmakers are in the center of this transformation and the reason is not to be found only in mass displacement and numbers. The binary of victimization and vilification of Arabs, together with institutional inequalities, created a need of self-representation and agency. Starting or continuing a filmmaking career can be seen as an act of resistance and cultural activism, even when the filmmaking is deeply personal and intimate. It is an acknowledgement of the existence beyond national identities and labels, a celebration of one’s artistic value.

Sweden has a role to play in this cultural transformation. It is home to one of the biggest Arab communities in Europe, with promising Arab producers, and an important Arab film festival in Malmö. Attesting to this, I chose to present some examples of short films by Arab-speaking filmmakers who not only continue pursuing filmmaking careers, but they get recognition both inside and outside Sweden.

Short films offer easier access to the national film industries, since they function as an introduction for the filmmaker and their style. The two short autobiographical documentaries on my list truly reflect the essence of an “accented cinema”, as cultural theorist Hamid Naficy described the migrant cinema. The “accent” is what differentiates migrant cinema: the particular aesthetic and topics that emanate through personal experiences of exile, mobility and displacement. The filmmakers here tell their stories for their own sake. They contemplate on belonging and capture the in-between state of existence, a state familiar to migrants, exiles, and refugees. But only because it is important to them.

Vittne (Ahmad Al Shehabi, 2023) is Al Shehabi’s debut film: a testimony of displacement and a love letter to his family created by personal visual material. It is also an attempt for the narrator to process change and find his place between homeland, the sea, and a new country. In 12 minutes, an account of forced migration comes to life. It is far from what one would see in the media. It is just human: sometimes silly, sometimes serious, sometimes frustrating.  A debut as it should be: fresh and quite moving, without flirting with the melodramatic. By the end, we are the ones standing witnesses, and this alone is a privilege.

I Have Seen Nothing, I Have Seen All (2019) is the second film of Yaser Kassab’s autobiographic documentary trilogy and it grapples the most with the unsettling feelings that accompany the reality of life in a new country. In all the films the narration comes through long-distance family calls. However, nowhere is the filmmaker so absent as in this film. Between the footage from Syria, the voice of his father, and the window view of the Swedish nature changing with the seasons, the filmmaker is neither here, nor there. He is in the in-between, a purgatory inhabited by many. The minimalist and symbolic cinematic approach of Kassab with its long silences challenge the understanding of time. By his third film (Chasing the Dazzling Light, 2023), he admits that “It needs long time to accept…”. The 19 minutes of I Have Seen Nothing, I Have Seen All enclose exactly all this long time. The time to accept, to find your place, and decide what life can be when home is an abstract concept.

Allting är bra nu (Basem Nabhan, 2023) is fiction but it paints a quite realistic image of the struggle to belong and its mental impact. Somewhere between imagination and reality, an internal struggle and a transformation takes place. A job interview is meant to be stressful, but what if you’re an Arab in Sweden? You are in a non-ending race, mostly with yourself, your anxiety, your language skills, your fear of rejection. The subtle portrayal of racism and othering is masterfully exhibited by the filmmaker, never turning into an accusation. After all, this is home now, and all is supposed to be fine. But is it? Nabhan is showing that there is no other way than through. Not only for the personal sense of catharsis, but also for a society to acknowledge its own shortcomings and faults.

But are the products of cross-cultural encounters damned to be difficult and frustrating? The Priest and the Flowers (Fady Gamal Atallah, 2021) attempts a re-imagining of human connection as a base for belonging. People need each other to survive. Beyond national borders and religion, and far from victims and saviors, people share common experiences. This is what makes them human. A mother who lost her child and a child who lost his family. They are not so different. A funeral and a country, as a meeting point. Not so different either. In a world in total disarray where loneliness prevails, collective care is the most important tool to overcome our trauma and survive. There is truly something metaphysical in seeing humans and love as a substitute to God and national identities. This is what makes films like this one truly important.

Art-house cinema can be a powerful tool for cultural education and intercultural dialogue. But beyond that, migrant cinema can be an enrichment to national film industries, and cinema in general. It is not a threat. It is an opportunity. And Arab-speaking filmmakers are not just representatives of any kind. They are artists with visions and a deep love for cinema. Now is really the best time for national film industries, like the Swedish one, to encourage their voices and celebrate them, allowing for more opportunities and inclusion. It will bring not only creative growth and recognition, but it can be the key for the survival of smaller film industries in challenging times.

(published in September 2024)