The first Super Troopers was a delightfully silly comedy about Vermont state troopers, with just enough plot to accommodate the barrage of goofy gags, wordplay, and absurdist bits that made the movie so rewatchable. A quarter of a century later, there’s an overwhelming amount of plot and not nearly enough laughs.

Sarita (Hannah Simone, New Girl), the college-professor sister of trooper Thorny (Jay Chandrasekhar, who also directs), comes to town as a visiting lecturer, but on her way in, she’s run off the road. Just before her SUV explodes, she’s rescued by mega-doofus trooper Farva (Kevin Heffernan) and, much to Thorny’s chagrin, it’s love at first sight. Thorny does what he can to torpedo their eventual engagement, but somehow Farva — despite being previously (and currently) portrayed as an obnoxious buffoon — manages to completely charm Thorny’s traditionalist Indian parents (Sakina Jaffrey and Iqbal Theba).

The screenplay by the five-person Broken Lizard collective piles on lots more story, including the training of a new rookie (Andrew Dismukes); marital friction between Foster (Paul Soter) and Ursula (Marisa Coughlin); the arrival of a new Canadian-made electric patrol car; Mac (Steve Lemme) grappling with aging; a pair of former weed dealers (Chace Crawford and Jon Rudnitsky) who now own one of those barn-inclusive wedding venues; the influx of a new drug called Canadian Crystal; the vandalization of out-of-state syrup trucks; and the inability of the troop’s retired captain (Brian Cox) to stop hanging around headquarters.

The Lizards have built a platform for comedy, but most of the humor fails to launch. Even the brilliant Nat Faxon, as the reading-list-assigning new captain, rarely generates laughs, despite his exceptional ability at playing awkward. Chandrasekhar has been directing film and TV for three decades now — everything from indies to big-studio fare like The Dukes of Hazzard — but his point-and-shoot style works only when the writing and the acting do the work of delivering the laughs. Here, the Lizards all seem to be coasting, with occasional reminders of former glory; the “meow” bit gets a brief reprise, and the Canada bits played better in Super Troopers 2, itself an irrelevant sequel, but still better than this one.

Also, it might have helped for the screenplay to provide at least one scene in which intellectual Sarita explains her love for doofus Farva, but Broken Lizard movies have never been known for particularly deep female characters. Women in these movies are there to be one of the boys, to be sexpots, or to be villains. If they’re lucky, they get to be some combination of two of those ideas.

With the returning leads merely re-hitting their characters’ notes, it’s up to the newcomers to bring the zing. Jaffrey and Theba are perfectly cast as the elder Ramathorns, and these veterans immediately tap into the naughty nonsense that the rest of the film so rarely achieves. Crawford and Rudnitsky make amiable comic foils, and Dismukes demonstrates a presence that promises a big-screen career once his SNL tenure ends.

Say what you will about Jackass: Best and Last, no one can accuse those guys of phoning it in after 30 years. As for Super Troopers 3, well, one could.

Director: Jay Chandrasekhar
Screenwriters: Broken Lizard
Cast: Jay Chandrasekhar, Kevin Heffernan, Steve Lemme, Paul Soter, Erik Stolhanske, Hannah Simone, Nat Faxon, Chace Crawford, Andrew Dismukes, Marisa Coughlan, Brian Cox
Executive producers: Jay Chandrasekhar, Kevin Heffernan, Steve Lemme, Paul Soter, Erik Stolhanske, Michael Bowes, Peter E. Lengyel
Producer: Richard Perello
Director of photography: Joe Collins
Production design: Adam Scher
Editing: Spencer Houck
Music: Zach Robinson, Leo Birenberg
Sound design: Benjamin Cheah, supervising sound editor; Gregg Swiatlowski, additional re-recording mixer, supervising sound editor
Production companies: Searchlight Pictures, Broken Lizard, Cataland Films
In English
104 minutes

The opening titles issue a clear warning: the editing of the film is deliberately disorienting. This doesn’t let editor and co-screenwriter Qutaiba Barhamji off the hook, but it does put the viewer in a defensive position toward what is to come. Over 70 years of movies and TV shows, photos and home videos flash by at breakneck speed. There are no sequences or obvious themes to group the images and make sense of them. Some seems to repeat later in the film, others don’t.

Daher and her producers are said to have researched 20,000 archive documents and signed hundreds of copyright agreements to use this material. The point is made that Lebanon has no national archive. The point is also made that it is wrong to end a war and start over, pretending it never happened. Accountability is essential. Perhaps that is the underlying thread that runs through this fascinating, bewildering jungle.

There is violence, there are guns and car bombs, buildings collapsing into rubble. There is tragedy. And yet, for a film so full of things, Do You Love Me is strangely empty of emotion. It is as though the unending flux of images is only capable of accumulation, leaving no time for emotional engagement. Perhaps there are isolated moments that touch the heart – a boy on the boardwalk missing a leg; a white horse shot down on the street. In a moment they are gone, and the memory fades.

This ambitious film of fragments, flowing back and forth in time, is worth re-watching. It is Daher’s first feature documentary. Qutaiba Barhamji is the editor of Kaouther Ben Hania’s Four Daughters and The Voice of Hind Rajab.

Director: Lana Daher
Screenwriters: Lana Daher, Qutaiba Barhamji
Producers: Jean-Laurent Csinidis, Lana Daher
Editing: Qutaiba Barhamji
Sound: Pierrre Armand
Production companies: Films de Force Majeure, My Little FilmsWorld sales: Lightdox
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Feature Documentary Competition)
In Arabic, French
75 minutes

As it happened, Iran repeatedly bombed the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base during the week, where a ballistic missile had killed two U.S. service members on July 17. Yet despite this area being little more than an hour’s drive from Amman, the guns of war remained unheard and unseen. The only reminder of the ongoing conflict (apart from a surprise test siren everybody got on their phone from the National Center for Security and Crisis Management) was the appearance of several drones at the closing ceremony, flown by the TV channel that was filming the event. With their flashing red and green lights and mosquito-like buzzing, the swooping drones added a surreal note to the spectacular venue of the Citadel high above the city, where awards were announced against the Roman ruins of the Temple of Hercules.

In the end it was an extremely quiet festival, more of a peaceful interlude in the Middle East hostilities than the calculated risk some festival guests had feared. Over 100 international film professionals and press guests attended, with only 6 or 7 invitees choosing to pass this round.

It gave the event the chance to reaffirm its mission to promote cinema for what Doumani calls  “a regional platform that attracts voices from every direction.” Going beyond screenings and industry projects, the festival transmited a strong image of Jordan as a state where people of different backgrounds coexist peacefully and where cultural heritage is highly valued. It’s also a place that knows how to organize an international event without fuss and content itself, and its guests, with intimate gatherings between carefully selected professionals. It’s the easy, contained, smallish festival most participants would be sorry to see it grow out of.

The influence of Jordan’s royal family, who have supported the festival from the beginning, was once again a stabilizing element backing up Doumani’s team. Princess Rym Ali, the President and Co-founder, spoke at the opening and closing events and appeared at a number of other festival venues. Keenly aware of the “deep existential crisis” the region is going through, she noted how this year’s slogan “Beyond the Frame” offers a new way to look at the role of filmmaking and filmmakers. Pertinantly she quotes writer Toni Morrison: When the world is “bruised and bleeding”, “this is precisely the time when artists go to work…That is how civilisations heal.”

These broad ideals feel authentic in the Amman context and underscore the festival’s fundamentally serious nature. The film selection was placed in the hands of two new programmers, Fadi Haddad and Murad Abu Eisheh, who distributed 82 titles in an array of Arab and non-Arab sections.

The Black Iris award for an Arab Feature-Length Narrative went to the bittersweet Lebanese love story set during the war A Sad and Beautiful World directed by Cyril Aris, notable for its quiet composition and top-flight acting. The film also won the Audience Award as well as the prize for best First-Time Lead Actor, which went to Hasan Akil, making it a rare favorite for both the professional jury and the public.

An equally clear favorite emerged from the Arab Feature-Length Documentary section, where The Other Side of the Sun won three prizes for its recreation of life in a Syrian prison, in heart-breaking detail. The title is the nickname the inmates, who included director Tawfik Sabouni, gave to the infamous prison in which few survived. But the Black Iris was awarded to the Palestinian film Habibi Hussein by Alex Bakri, denouncing the power play when a German-funded project attempts to restore a film theater in the Jenin refugee camp.

Taking a look at the Arab Short Films, which The Film Verdict covered extensively this year, the Black Iris went to Algerian director Oumnia Hanader for her film Bimo. Finally, in the Non-Arab Feature Length Narrative section, the film Laundry directed by Zamo Mkhwanazi, a powerful study of privilege set in apartheid South Africa, took home the Black Iris as well as the Audience Award.

It has been well on ten years since Khalid Abdalla attended a film festival and yet there he was in Amman, a member of the festival’s main Arab Feature Narrative Competition jury.

Born in Glasgow to Egyptian parents and growing up amid Palestinian families, he traces his leaning toward political activism back to riding on his father’s shoulders when he was three years old, at a protest in Scotland. His political commitment has blossomed into outspoken advocacy for Palestine and on the red carpets of films and TV series like The Crown where he played Dodi El Fayed, The Kite Runner, United 93, Green Zone, The Square and many others. He became one of the first actors to stand up for Palestine at the Emmys and other awards ceremonies.

“Every time I made a gesture on the red carpet, I didn’t know how it would be received, but then I felt the public’s solidarity.”

“If you believe you’re a citizen of the world, you’re a citizen of nowhere.” Theresa May

Abdalla’s debut play, Nowhere, is a one-man show that he began performing in October 2024 as the Gaza war began in earnest. Explorng his reaction to the events in Gaza and his experience of revolution in Egypt, it reflects “the lack of space I carry from my childhood to the present day.” He has already toured nine countries with it.

Would he like to perform it in the Middle East? “It has been largely not possible until now to perform in, because of the aligned identity I have,” he says. More than autobiography, he sees Nowhere as anti-biography: “more how the world shapes us than how we shape the world.”

The play “is always what happens in the world, with an evolving text and an evolving audience. I change the text when we’re in a new stage.” So there is room for the Iran war in the play?

“Iran is a continuation of what we had,” believes Abdulla. He recently flew to New Zealand to perform the play and the fact that he took the last plane out of Dubai to get there was much on the audience’s mind.

What does he think of the Amman film festival taking place while Iran is bombings its border? Any safety concerns when he travels these days?

“In general I’m not too worried, but it depends where and when. I prefer to insist on my freedom. I try to operate in that mode in everything I do, but I don’t claim it’s easy.”

“… I’ve been very moved by the festival. I am in awe of what they’ve managed to do, their seriousness and long-term vision.”

Abdalla sounds enthusiastic about the potential he sees in the region and “what the festival can do to ferment change and progress in the film industry.” While we have seen the opening and closing of other mighty regional festivals like Dubai and Abu Dhabi, the organizers and patrons of Amman Intl. Film Festival seem determined to dig in for the long haul. It’s a festival that supports the region and Jordan’s role within a long-term vision to defend local film culture.

“I felt that and I loved to be here, to see the selection of films, the celebration of regional figures like Tunisian producer Dora Bouchoucha… I’ve been very moved by the festival. I feel deeply optimistic about the cultural potential in the region and what that means during the cultural and political struggle they are going through. Even though many of the films had a dark subject matter and reflect individual struggle, it is still a victory to make a film at all.”

Fadi Syriani’s animation takes inspiration from a real neighbour the director had growing up in Beirut, a man who the director has characterised as always attending funerals. The version of this man who appears in his short film, Vladimir, is one who seems to spend his entire days scanning newspapers and circling obituaries and death notices before heading out and attending the funerals of the deceased. However, Syriani’s story attempts to get under the skin of the man, coming to understand the pain and grief – for personal loss, for societal loss – that underpin his mournful routine. Having premiered back at Annecy in 2025, the film now screens as part of the Arab Short Films Competition in Amman.

The tactility of the puppets and miniature sets that make up Vladimir’s condensed world create a real texture to his experience. Whether it is him sitting on his corduroy sofa or the stitching on a shroud at one of the funerals, it has an almost haptic quality that we are also constantly aware of in how his form has been built and shaped by the animators. While the story is one of a seemingly endless loop, from which this elderly man is unable to extract himself, it also becomes evident that this link back to the world, this physical act of attendance and witness is also a way for him to remain connected when he is otherwise cut adrift.

The act of remembering, the act of lamenting, is ritualistic here and the animation allows for us to see the passage of time through Vladimir’s ritual, to see the changes to the city he lives in via the same means, and even to get glimpses into his psyche via fragments of his relationship to his wife and fragments of reverie when he crosses certain thresholds within his home. Syriani’s version of Vladimir is a man constantly in silent conversation with what he has had and what he has lost, wrangling with holes that time leaves in all our lives.

Director, writer: Fadi Syriani
Producers: Jana Wehbe, Georg Neubert, Maryam Al Khulaifa, Fadi Syriani
Cinematography: Pierre Mouarkech, Markus Ilschner
Editing: Carine Doumit, Fadi Syriani
Animation: Mikkel Mainz, The Animation Workshop – TAW
Sound: Lama Sawaya
Production companies: The Attic Productions (Lebanon), Reynard Films (Germany)
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Short Film Competition)
No dialogue
16 minutes

Read our coverage of more short films in our Verdict Shorts section.

Arab Feature-Length Narrative Film Awards

• Black Iris: A Sad and Beautiful World directed by Cyril Aris (Lebanon)
• Jury Award: The President’s Cake directed by Hasan Hadi (Iraq)
• Best First-Time Scriptwriter: Mohamed Rashad for The Settlement (Egypt)
• Best First-Time Lead Actor: Hasan Akil for A Sad and Beautiful World (Lebanon)
• Best First-Time Lead Actress: Eya Bellagha for Where the Wind Comes From (Tunisia)
• Audience Award: A Sad and Beautiful World directed by Cyril Aris (Lebanon)

Arab Feature-Length Documentary Film Awards

• Black Iris: Habibi Hussein directed by Alex Bakri (Palestine)
• Jury Award: The Other Side of the Sun directed by Tawfik Sabouni (Syria)
• FIPRESCI Award: The Other Side of the Sun directed by Tawfik Sabouni (Syria)
• Audience Award: The Other Side of the Sun directed by Tawfik Sabouni (Syria)

Arab Short Film Awards

• Black Iris: Bimo directed by Oumnia Hanader (Algeria)
• Best Jordanian Film: Ambush directed by Yassmina Karajah
• Jury Award: Aicha directed by Sanaa El Alaoui (Morocco)
• Special Mention: Passport Wedding directed by Abdallah Al-Ziadi (Jordan)
• Audience Award: Cleanse the streets directed by Aysha Shahaltough (Jordan)

Non-Arab Feature-Length Narrative Film Awards

• Black Iris: Laundry directed by Zamo Mkhwanazi (South Africa)
• Jury Award: We Believe You directed by Charlotte Devillers & Arnaud Dufeys (Belgium)
• Audience Award: Laundry directed by Zamo Mkhwanazi (South Africa)

The connection that a mother (Hind Dafer) has with her daughter (Manal Bennani) in El Alaoui’s psychological horror is an intimate one. As they pair are driven apart by tragedy, the esoteric and supernatural seem to offer a genuine possibility for reconnection. Moroccan folklore and sharp commentary on contemporary gender-based violence go hand-in-hand in this film that was on the long-list for an Academy Award and will compete in the Arab Short Film Competition at Amman. It’s an expertly crafted look at mysticism and misogyny that is both beautifully shot, enigmatically structured and packs a wallop.

Early in the film, the daughter says to her mother that must experience the past, present and future “as if they were one thing” – and this is exactly how El Alaoui presents the narrative of her story, a kaleidoscopic exploration of trauma and grief whose very linearity has been shattered by their impact.Birth and death and love and violence all jostle for room as Aicha attempts to explore several key moments in a mother-daughter relationship that comes to be defined by male violence against women.

In the film’s climactic moment, its dramatic high point and moral nadir, the reality of the image is folded in on itself completely, lapsing into a monochrome animation that seeks to convey, in some small way, the horror and pain of what is happening. The audience comes to see some of the threads they’ve glimpsed already shift into clearer focus, the stark reality laid bare. Aicha feels like a wail of lament, but bristles with energy that might just see spiritual forces limbering up for vengeance.

Director, screenwriter: Sanne El Alaoui
Cast: Hind Dafer, Manal Bennani, Mohamed Amine Kihal, Kenza Fridou
Producer: Piotr Kaczorowski
Cinematography: Oskar Jan Krol
Editing: Michal Buczek
Sound: Chaouki Nani
Music: Prophan (Othman Cherradi)
Production design: Nabil Ghaouat
Animation: Tomek Popakul, Kasumi Ozeki
Production companies: Native Line (Morocco)
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Short Film Competition)
In Arabic
26 minutes

Read our coverage of more short films in our Verdict Shorts section.

Mohamed Tamer’s comic film begins at tennis practice, where Malak (Hana Shiha) is training with her doting father watching from the stands. While there, he is approached by one of the other mothers who tells him, in no uncertain terms, that Malak needs to start wearing a bra. Thus ensues an painfully awkward but charming and poignant story of a man trying to navigate an utterly alien rite of passage with no road map. The film took home the prize Tanit d’or at the Carthage Film Festival and screens now at Amman having seem to become a regular audience favourite in its festival journey.

This is, in no small part, down to Mohamed Mamdouh, who gives a wonderfully expressive performance as Mr. Hazem who veers from uneasy befuddlement to downright fear. Having been cornered at the sports ground, he is ill-equipped to speak directly to his daughter about this situation and fumbles through his painful discomfort while his daughter breezes along with her life, apparently oblivious. When she is out of the house for the day for a study group and class, he bites the bullet and heads to a lingerie shop to buy her her first bra.

From standing, frozen outside to the stilted and confusing conversation with the confident salesman – who assumes he is shopping for a lady friend – the perfectly encapsulates the difficulty of a man who just does not know how to speak about female subjects such as these. Mamdouh expertly sweats and twitches he way through the encounter before heading home to practice beginning this excruciatingly embarrassing conversation. The film ends on a touching but curiously ambiguous note, that speaks, in the most subtle of ways, to a further discomfort about female independence, and what it means to be a male single parent of a teenage daughter in contemporary Egypt.

Director: Mohamed Taher
Cast: Mohamed Mamdouh, Hana Shiha, Ahmed Dash, Jessica Hossam El Din, Gehad Hossam El Din
Screenwriter: Haitham Dabbour
Producer: Ahmed Nouh
Cinematography: Mostafa Fahmy
Editing: Baher Rasheed
Music: Ahmad Mostafa Zaky
Sound: Ahmed Sabbour
Production design: Asem Ali
Production companies: Red Star Films (Egypt)
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Short Film Competition)
In Arabic
19 minutes

Read our coverage of more short films in our Verdict Shorts section.

Directed by British-Nigerian filmmaker Akinola Davies, Jr. from a screenplay he wrote with his brother Wale Davies, this impressive first feature recounts how an absentee dad impulsively takes his 11-year-old Akin and his 8-year-old Rémi on a daytrip to the big city of Lagos. It is a day that will change their family forever.

After bowing at Cannes in Un Certain Regard last year as the first-ever Nigerian film in the official selection (and, no small feat, where it won the Caméra d’Or — Special Mention), the film was the U.K.’s Oscar submission for best international feature and a big BAFTA winner. Its latest appearance is in Amman’s Non-Arab Feature Competition.

On a lazy day in June, while their mother has gone to the village leaving Akin in charge of his little brother, the boys are frightened to see a man appear in the bedroom – their father. He works in a factory in Lagos and they see him so seldomly that he has become a distant figure. But moved by their pleading, he suddenly decides to take them with him to Lagos, where he has to collect overdue wages from his boss. A walk through the forest takes them to a crowded bus, which soon runs out of gas. They are left to hitchhike their way to the city, where more adventures await.

Perhaps it is the autobiographical elements, reimagined in the fictional story, that set the film apart and give it a profound feeling of psychological truth and authenticity. Each member of the main cast – the father Fola (Sope Dirisu), elder son Godwin Egbo and younger boy Chibuike Marvellous Egbo – brings strength and complexity to his role, while the fundamentally unstructured narrative does away with familiar character arcs. There are no pat conflicts or satisfying resolutions in this story of an imperfect man seen through the mythologizing but critical eyes of his children.

But more is going on than a family reunion. As Fola takes his kids around the city, the sense of overwhelming poverty becomes pervasive, like friends living on small loans and the generosity of others – all lessons in sharing that he imparts to the boys. Their hope for a better future depends on reelecting a democratic government, a political movement Fola seems involved in and that creates an atmosphere of danger around him.

This underlying tension is signaled in different ways: the soft, exceedingly ominous background score by Duval Timothy and CJ Mirra accompanies the little family on their trip; carrion birds continually circle overhead, while street preachers proclaim doom; the camera picks up details of rotting cars, fruit and animals. The most open threat comes from truckloads of scowling soldiers armed to the teeth who seem to pop up everywhere. So do newspaper headlines that scream about a “Bonny Camp Massacre.”

General elections have just been held after a decade of military rule. The camera captures the excited faces of normal people on the street and in a caffè, who have overwhelmingly voted for the social democrat businessman M.K.O. Abiola. When the military government annuls the election results on television, people take to the streets in a spontaneous uprising. The terrified Akin and Rémi are swept up in the chaos and violence along with their father.

There are echoes here of Raoul Peck’s 1993 classic The Man by the Shore, in which the domestic terror of Haitian dictator Papa Doc is seen through the eyes of a young girl. And Davies captures some of Peck’s lyricism, too, in his free-wheeling editing offering subliminal glimpses of ambience and atmosphere, shot in 16 mm with visceral sensuality by D.P. Jermaine Edwards.

As the streets explode with violence in a thrilling scene of sustained terror, the significance of the Bonny Camp massacre is finally revealed and its connection to Fola becomes sickeningly clear – at least it becomes clear by inference, which may pass over the heads of some audiences. Similarly, the screenwriters choose the risky emotional rollercoaster of a dubious double ending which is first happy, then sad. This feels like taking complex story-telling too far, especially when either ending would have provided definitive closure. But these instances of narrative over-reach can’t sink an otherwise marvelously inventive screenplay.

The three central performances, underlined by warm closeups, go deep. As the father, Sope Dirisu uses his imposing physicality to connect with his estranged boys, like in an elemental scene on the beach when he swings both of them over the water, one on each arm. An aura of mystery veils him from boys and viewers alike: his feelings for his wife and his lover, his political convictions, his interpretation of a father’s role as the breadwinner of the family rather than its emotional support. As his sons, the Egbo brothers are perfectly cast, the angry and stubborn (and very funny) little Rémi demanding love, while the hugely expressive Akin is better able to assimilate the disappointments and unfairness of the adult world. Overall, they make the film a powerful introduction to Nigerian cinema.

Director: Akinola Davies, Jr.
Screenwriter: Wale Davies, Akinola Davies, Jr.
Producers: Rachel Dargavel, Funmbi Ogunbanwo
Cast: Sope Dirisu, Godwin Egbo, Chibuike Marvellous Egbo
Cinematography: Jermaine Edwards
Production design: Jennifer Anti, Pablo Anti
Editing: Omar Guzman Castro
Music: Duval Timothy, CJ Mirra
Sound: CJ Mirra
Production companies: BBC Film, BFI, Element Pictures, Crybaby in association with Fatherland (Nigeria)
World sales: The Match Factory
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Non-Arab Feature Competition)
In English
94 minutes

Though challenge seems to have become a way of life, Doumani looks alert and unperturbed during her talk with The Film Verdict, which took place in the hushed office suite of the festival’s temporary headquarters. Outside, at night, the streets overflow with crowds and traffic literally inches forward on the Boulevard in a sea of red brake lights. Dance music pours from top-floor terrace bars. It is hard to believe there are bombs and missiles being dropped that target the U.S. air base just 100 km (65 miles) away.

But maintaining at atmosphere of normalcy, says Doumani, is not only human and desirable, but necessary. “We have to keep going as long as we can.”

Last year, it was Israel’s invasion of Gaza that was the talk of the festival and the subject of numerous films. The war in Gaza hit home particularly hard in Jordan, where a large swath of the population is Palestinian. But this year, despite the greatly increased proximity to the deadly and unpredictable hostilities now going on between the U.S., Israel and Iran, the festival venues and meeting places registered barely a ripple of uneasiness. The talk was all about the movies being shown and the film pitches and masterclasses being held in the Industry section.

Doumani notes that among over 100 international guests invited, they had only 5 or 6 last-minute cancellations, “almost all of them over the risk that Amman’s airport could close, though in reality the national carrier Royal Jordanian would fly in any case.” Her team remains in close touch with the national Security and Crisis Management Center, who would give them early warning if something were to happen affecting the safety of guests.

Though all these circumstances have kept the Amman festival to a certain cozy size, it has also conferred an enviable intimacy, making it one of the friendliest and most accessible events of its kind in the Middle East. Doumani calls its gradual increase in films and attendees “organic growth” and vows to continue down the path of being as inclusive as possible. Already the festival screens a selection of its program in seven different cities outside Amman and actively pairs with community groups like the Deaf Cinema Club. The premier screening of the Jordanian family drama Sink featured sign language interpretation on a split screen and attracted a full house of exuberant, highly reactive film-goers.

The festival chooses an annual theme that reflects the reality of the moment, because “art, in all its forms, is inseparable from its social, economic and political context,” Doumani writes in her introduction to the 2026 catalogue. This year’s theme is “Beyond the Frame”, inviting the audience to look beyond what is immediately visible and beyond conventional ways of thinking.

“It’s what we’re trying to offer in our documentaries and fiction, Arab films that face taboos and go beyond the frame.” A perfect example is Ali Saeed’s documentary Anti-Cinema, which traces the 35-year-long journey of Saudi Arabian filmmakers to be able to legally create and watch “cinema” in public.

“The important thing,” she reflects, “is to be consistent and coherent” in holding the festival, whatever the military is doing. Shutting the festival down would be “exactly what those trying to kill our culture want. Forcing people not to do things weakens the region and the community. My message is, we won’t be defeated as cultural creators.”

Nadia (Rihab Karrar) and her daughter Rayan (Suhanda Abubaker) still live in their cramped apartment in Sudan with the news of hostilities relayed over the radio and ominous explosions in the distance. However, while Rayan is glued to her phone for the latest reports on the conflict, Nadia is growing increasingly worried that they have not heard from her son, Omar. Eiman Alkhalifa’s film uses this central tension to craft an impressively affecting short that portrays the immigrant experience from the point of view of those left behind – and the way that their hopes and dreams for the future become entwined with the fate of their loved ones. No Land in Sight screens in the Arab Short Film Competition at Amman having already won prizes elsewhere.

Of course, presenting the lives of those left in conflict zones is not an entirely new concept, but it is rare to see a film that so acutely captures the way in which the aspirations for the future – for a future – can be transferred to someone else. Initially, it unclear where precisely Omar is, the audience just knows that Nadia is fretful about not having hear from him for two days. She and Rayan shuffle about their small home, Tara Alkas’ cinematography and Rico Casazza’s sound design emphasizing their entrapment. When Omar finally calls (voiced by Mohamed Osman) the conversation is short and ambiguous. Over subsequent calls, it becomes clear that he is currently aboard a boat, making a crossing – presumably to Europe.

As the film burns through it’s brief running time, the apartment grows darker and darker – the explosions closer, Rayan asks her mother if they will be okay. Once the power goes out, the pair are lit by the light of the phone screen, Omar’s potential life in Europe becoming like a beacon of optimism in an increasingly dire situation. Eiman Alkhalifa directs with assurance, allowing fairly stripped back filmmaking to shine as the harrowing reality of both Omar’s and his family’s situations hoves menacingly into view.

Director, writer: Eiman Alkhalifa
Cast: Rihab Karrar, Suhanda Abubaker, Mohamed Osman
Producer: Zainab Abdelaziz
Cinematography: Tara Alkhas
Editing: Rogena Tarek
Music: Hamza Alsalim
Sound: Rico Casazza
Art direction: Maien Elhassan
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Short Film Competition)
In Arabic
11 minutes

Read our coverage of more short films in our Verdict Shorts section.

She plays Hajar , a mother desperate to do right by her teenage daughter, Rawa (Hneed Azzam), regardless of the limitations that may be placed on their life. Al-Ziyadi’s film follows Hajar over the course of several days as she attempts to drum up enough cash to buy her daughter a passport – a woman trapped by circumstance who insists the next generation won’t be. It’s an intimate and moving portrait of a mother’s silent sacrifice.

That said, this is evidently a film concerned with Hajar’s plight, not just regarding her daughter’s travel abroad, but the more general socioeconomic realities she faces. She regularly has to explain that it has been a difficult few months – hence needing to borrow money to make ends meat. The landlord is heard on the phone, reminding her that rent is past due. In other scenes, she goes to collect aid packages and is, on occasion, forced to sell the contents. The film plays these things as commonplace – neither this moment, nor Hajar’s predicament, are exceptional. She and her neighbours are constantly navigating such precarity.

Hussein Qadan’s handheld camerawork gives the world Hajar inhabits a sense of verisimilitude, as it hovers near her like a documentarian’s lens, but also a persistent intimacy of experience. As the camera roves alongside her, it seems to become caught up in the motion of the situation, following the ebb and flow of Hajar’s journey and emotions. Hamed presents these impeccably, moving from whoops jubilation to tears of distress, but Passport Wedding never wavers from presenting Hajar’s dignity and determination.

Director, writer: Abdallah Al-Ziyadi
Cast: Hind Hamed, Hneed Azzam, Serene Huleileh, Selam Al-awadi
Producer: Dana Mar’ie
Cinematography: Hussein Qadan
Editing: Ahmad Alkhlifat
Sound: Ahmad Alkhlifat, Hayan Alyouseef
Production design: Hadeel Abu Shuqair
Production companies: Moonstone Productions, Fluid Productions (Jordan)
Venue: Amman Film Festival (Arab Short Film Competition)
In Arabic
17 minutes

Read our coverage of more short films in our Verdict Shorts section.

Hasan Hadi’s script follows a nine-year-old girl, Lamia (Baneen Ahmed Nayyef), who is tasked to bake a cake in celebration of Saddam Hussein’s birthday. Dreadfully, she wins this privilege through a lottery in her school, and she cannot decline. The birthday cake becomes a scary and unwanted test of political loyalty to the regime. Lamia lives with her grandmother (Waheed Thabet Khreibat) in the Mesopotamian Marshes. After being chosen to bake the cake, she gets a warning from her teacher that this is not a mundane homework assignment but an obligation.

The film’s bold statement lies in showing how the devastation in Iraq is not solely the result of oppression, a narcissistic leader, and a police state. The semi-failed state is not an inexplicable local condition in Iraq; foreign sanctions and interventions also play a role, with the former being more brutal sometimes than military action.

In a country where eggs, sugar, and flour are scarce due to sanctions, the child protagonist is put, with much surrealism, in a survival mode. In addition, the background to the film incorporates the consequences of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait later that year, enhancing the experience of the child living in conflict and deprivation, where the everyday stories of people can vanish and what remains are the visuals and narratives of decision-makers. Hadi sets the film in this way. As Lamia embarks on a journey to scramble to find the ingredients, she and others are bombarded with visuals of Saddam. His presence is overwhelming in posters, school oaths, songs, and on TV.

The cinematic tradition of works that cast children as spearheads to expose society spans everything from Italian neorealism to Iranian cinema, but Hadi sticks to the uniqueness of the Iraqi context when it comes to plot, accents, music, wardrobe, and ambiance. Lamia travels with grandma Bibi from the marshes, accompanied by their pet rooster Hindi, to a nearby city to buy the cake’s ingredients. There she gets separated from her grandmother and encounters her school friend Saeed (Sajad Mohamad Qasem), who knows the streets by heart and has the skills to survive in an overcrowded market, starting a journey of drama, humor, and absurdity.

Lamia’s friendship with Saeed carries the emotional weight of the film. The two non-professional actors are the pillars on which the film rests. Hadi’s direction demonstrates a gift for casting and directing children that recalls Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund and their inclusion of hundreds of children and teenagers from the favelas of Rio de Janeiro in the masterpiece City of God (2002). Both characters approach danger differently. She is grounded and calm, but slowly acknowledges the absurdity of the situation, while he acts like it is just another day in the streets. For both, the political context is not so apparent. Maybe that is why they can endure the journey to find the ingredients, while also doing everyday children activities like playing and arguing. Cinematographer Tudor Vladimir Panduru captures these moments in alleys, crowded markets, and police checkpoints, allowing the scarcity of goods to appear visually rather than through dialogue. Hadi is careful to show how scarcity and deprivation produce not only greed and control over others’ bodies, but can also create solidarity, generosity, and resistance.

The work of editor Andu Radu really cements the film’s main thesis. The celebration in which the children participate does not signify a school drama where kids are challenged with a difficult homework assignment. It becomes an embodiment of fear and absurdity in a police state ruled by an iron fist, where the line between a political extravaganza and private calamity is erased. Radu intercuts between the acted scenes of the celebration and documentary footage of Saddam Hussein’s birthday parties, putting the fictional fear face-to-face with the historical spectacle that produced misery for millions. This remains a reality. Behind the luxury and the familiar image that many leaders present on their social media accounts, lies suffering for millions.

The President’s Cake announces the arrival of a serious filmmaking talent who engages dynamically and authentically with local stories, without attempting to dilute his efforts for foreign critics or non-Arab audiences. Instead of turning Lamia into a spokesperson narrating a human rights report, she becomes an embodiment of intelligence, determination, and fear. Where compulsory adoration is expected from everyone, even children, she cannot defeat all the obstacles. But she quietly acknowledges the absurdity and perhaps laughs at it, a meaningful act of resistance for a nine-year-old.

Director, screenwriter: Hasan Hadi
Cast: Baneen Ahmed Nayyef, Sajad Mohamad Qasem, Waheed Thabet Khreibat, Rahim AlHaj
Producer: Leah Chen Baker
Cinematography: Tudor Vladimir Panduru RSC
Editor: Andu Radu
Production design: Anamaria Tecu
Sound: Tamás Zányi
Production company: TPC Film LLC
International sales: Films Boutique
Venue: Amman International Film Festival (Arab Feature Narrative Competition)
In Arabic
102 minutes

Mehdi (Slim Baccar) and Alyssa (Eya Bellagha) live in a working-class district on the outskirts of Tunis. The two childhood friends are trapped in a cycle of indecision and loss. Mehdi is a shy artist who lacks confidence, approaching life cautiously as he waits for a secure job in the government. Meanwhile, Alyssa is restless, bold, and refuses to accommodate the patriarchal gaze and familial restrictions. Both discover that conforming to bureaucratic expectations and gender roles offers them no future, and is an obsolete way to approach life. After Mehdi’s portrait of Alyssa is selected for an art competition, they both travel to Djerba hoping that the drawing wins him an artistic residency in Germany so they can go to Europe. Alyssa sticks with Mehdi, believing he is her winning ticket to the shores of Europe. When the portrait gets to the final round, they decide to travel through Sousse while heading south to Djerba: this is the start of Guellaty’s road movie.

This road trip allows both protagonists to navigate social and geographical borders. In Sousse, they encounter different visible forms of comfort and freedom where wealth provides access to comfort, status and greater social and sexual freedom. The journey also exposes how the posh Sousse echoes a lot of the societal ills in contemporary post-2011 Tunisian society, such as harassment, class inequality, the attraction of migration — all of which are elements that Guellaty approaches organically in the script rather than placing them under an obvious spotlight.

This is one of the screenplay’s strengths, as the pressures are spotlighted through the contrasting personalities of the characters. For example, Alyssa pushes back against every challenge she faces, yet beneath her rebellion lie grief, fear and a heavy burden, as she is left to care for her depressed mother and younger sister after her father’s death. Playing Alyssa, Eya Bellagha balances humor with rage in a complex, non-archetypal portrayal of Arab women. The character is energy that propels the friends through their journey. Her performance reinforces Guellaty’s argument that Tunisian youth have been overburdened throughout the years in a region where vulnerability is systematically exploited.

Her partner in crime, Mehdi, played by Slim Baccar, presents a very effective counterpart. While Alyssa makes noise (physically and emotionally) to take space in society, Mehdi has survived by strategically making himself smaller, giving the road trip an a complex emotional depth. The strength of this duo is tested on the road, and their platonic friendship is also tested and deepened, which arguably is the film’s way to highlight the shape of freedom. Friendship becomes a private space where both characters do not have to mask a certain role and façade.

Another idea skilfully woven into Guellaty’s filmmaking is imagination as a form of refuge. The fantasies that Alyssa and Mehdi share are visually well-embedded and executed in the film, creating a space in which storytelling becomes a tool for young people deprived of choices, to resist the absolutism of their destinies. This imaginative register is translated through cinematographer Frida Marzouk’s lens, for example, the sharp contrast between Alyssa’s wardrobe, often a warm red colour, while Mehdi’s is a more blueish mist ambiance. A similar contrast emerges between Tunis, where the possibilities for life appear limited, and Sousse where landscapes, wealth, and proximity to Europe gives space for momentary relief.

Where the Wind Comes From describes Europe as a seductive horizon. However, the film avoids asserting that leaving is the solution to all the characters’ problems. This is a smart choice by the director, who allows her protagonists to carry political significance without depriving them of agency or afalling into a preachy, tell-not-show approach. That does not mean that Guellaty offers an easy triumph. She investigates the tiresome moments of despair, while presenting friendship and imagination as forces capable of keeping hope for a better future alive.

Director, screenwriter: Amel Guellaty
Cast: Eya Bellagha, Slim Baccar, Sondos Belhassen, Lobna Noomene
Producers: Asma Chiboub, Karim Aitouna
Cinematographer: Frida Marzouk
Editors: Amel Guellaty, Ghalya Lacroix, Malek Kammoun
Music: Omar Aloulou
Sound: Aymen Labidi
Production designer: Khalil Khoudja
Costume designer: Shehrazad Methenni
Production companies: Atlas Vision Productions, Haut les Mains Productions
International sales: Films Boutique
Arab distribution: MAD Distribution
Venue: Amman International Film Festival
In Arabic
99 minutes

Stepping in for director Jon Watts, series newcomer Destin Daniel Cretton brings both indie cred (Short Term 12) and superhero chops (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings) to the assignment, but once again, it’s Holland who makes this iteration of Peter Parker/Spider-Man so achingly vulnerable and balletically agile.

Viewers will recall that Spider-Man: No Way Home ended with Spider-Man saving the day by having sorcerer Dr. Strange cast a spell that would make everyone forget Peter Parker, leaving our protagonist deprived of the two key relationships in his life: best friend Ned (Jacob Batalon) and soulmate MJ (Zendaya). As Brand New Day opens, we see that Peter has devoted himself to being Spider-Man full-time, pouring himself into work (and bringing down the Big Apple’s crime rate) while wistfully keeping track of Ned and MJ’s adventures at MIT via Instagram.

As Peter’s arachnid DNA starts making unpredictable changes in his body, he must face a challenging new foe (Sadie Sink), one who can telepathically “hop” from one consciousness to another and force them to do her bidding. Add the return of MJ and Ned to New York, not to mention Spider-Man’s contentious friendship with vigilante The Punisher (Jon Bernthal) and the mysterious goings-on at superhero regulatory agency Damage Control, and our friendly neighborhood wall-crawler’s cup runneth over.

Returning screenwriters Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers once again skillfully balance the joy and the angst that make up Peter Parker while also juggling the intersecting — now often exhausting — demands of the MCU; some familiar faces return to swap banter, and at least one character reveal will delight fans of the comics’ ever-expanding screen iteration. From Spider-Man’s work-wife relationship with NYPD Detective Jean DeWolff (Liza Colón-Zayas, The Bear) to Peter’s haunted longing for MJ, the love of his life who can no longer remember him, the personal stakes carry real weight here, demonstrating that the writers, like their director, are quite accomplished at injecting indie-sized characters into giant-scaled adventure.

And what adventure: Thanks to cinematographer Brett Pawlak (Wonder Man) and an accomplished effects team, Brand New Day might be the most vertiginous live-action Spider-Man movie to date. The character doesn’t fly, of course — his mode of transport more closely resembles plummeting and catching himself, and the plummeting achieves new levels of breathlessness. And whether it’s a tank barreling through the streets of Manhattan or our hero facing off against a crack team of ninjas, composer Michael Giacchino and a trio of editors pump up the adrenaline whenever necessary.

The all-consuming superhero trend has waned for now, its constant, ever-expanding demands on audience loyalty having pushed the genre to its limits. The fatigue was real, and the films sometimes half-baked and irrelevant. But the Marvel Cinematic Universe still has Spider-Man when it needs a shot in the arm. These films never forget the head and the heart, and Brand New Day presents the strongest case of any of the post–Avengers: Endgame movies for franchise continuation.

Director: Destin Daniel Cretton
Screenwriter: Chris McKenna & Erik Sommers, based on the comic book by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko
Cast: Tom Holland, Zendaya, Sadie Sink, Jacob Batalon, Jon Bernthal, Tramell Tillman, Michael Mando, Mark Ruffalo
Executive producers: Louis D’Esposito, David Cain
Producers: Kevin Feige, Amy Pascal, Avi Arad, Rachel O’Connor
Director of photography: Brett Pawlak
Production design: Charles Wood
Editing: Nat Sanders, Gina Sansom, Harry Yoon
Music: Michael Giacchino
Sound design: Jack Whittaker, Katy Woods, supervising sound editors
Production companies: Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios
In English
145 minutes

Yunan is part of the “Homeland” trilogy which Fakher Eldin began with The Stranger in 2021. Rather than returning to the occupied Golan Heights, the plot takes shape in the vast landscape of northern Germany. Munir (Georges Khabbaz) is an Arab writer living in Hamburg. After consulting with a doctor whom he visits to complain that he cannot breathe, medical tests show no apparent problem. But the source of his suffering lies somewhere, so he decides to travel to a North Sea island in Germany, and to stay in a guesthouse with apparently serious intentions of self-harm and even self-destruction.

The guesthouse he stays in is managed by Valeska (Hanna Schygulla) and her son Karl (Tom Wlaschiha). Valeska’s kindness at first is met with coldness and silence, while Karl becomes suspicious about the new guest who takes long walks across the island and by the sea. Little is revealed about Munir’s history. He is the survivor of a conflict that only he knows. He speaks to his aging mother on the phone several times, but also notices that she is slowly losing her memory. She is the last thread to home that Munir hangs on to.

The absence of details about Munir’s life is initially frustrating, as it fails to clarify what kind of trauma this man has gone through, other than being a writer in the Arab world, maybe. And yet, it also avoids presenting one particular migration story, but draws a broad-stroked sketch of displacement and exile, where survival is sustained through stories, language and memories, all of which he is gradually losing touch with.

With over 25 years of directing and writing for original Lebanese theater, actor Georges Khabbaz describes the very emptiness that through silence and repressed feelings tells a lot about a person’s journey, one that every viewer will make in their mind. The character delivers much of his communication through body language: awkward pauses, the heaviness of his steps, his defeated gaze, building a convincing picture of depression. In many ways, the film embraces the diversity of Arab migration stories, refusing to center around war and conflict, but rather opening the door to many possibilities. Its mysterious quality is not there to add thriller vibes or conventional suspense, but rather gives Yunan a poetic quality.

The imagery on occasion replaces deeper back-and-forth conversations. For this reason, Ronald Plante’s cinematography plays a crucial part in asserting Fakher Eldin’s vision of exile. Often, Munir is placed on the edge of the wide frame, reducing his existence to a solitary figure aganist the sea, mud, and sky. The film’s aesthetic plays a role in preventing visual monotony, and hence it  contrasts breath-taking nature and the protagonist’s deep desire to disappear, allowing viewers to observe bodies and landscapes without a Netflix-like constant explanation.

Interestingly, Munir still cannot breathe freely despite being surrounded by all this fresh air. Despite living in a beautiful setting, depression continues to weigh on him. This almost empty island holds an effective mirror up to his condition. Because the islanders live with the constant possibility that they may be flooded by the sea at any time, they are forced to accept that leaving and adjusting are facts of life, as they cannot control the sea or undo a flood. Munir is in the same boat. He cannot undo exile, or recreate a home elsewhere. The only way forward is to march on while carrying his loss.

The connection between Valeska and Munir is honest and non-possessive. Fakher Eldin tailors his script to avoid romance and white-savior clichés. Here, Munir, the brown Arab man, does not need saving, and is not shown a better way of life by Valeska. Her intervention recognises the crisis he is in. It does not cure his depression, but it interrupts the isolation he is trapped in.

Wisely, the film makes no promises for a complete recovery, nor does it pretend to solve the issue of exile or the crisis of living in a new place. Yunan suggests that the attention and care Munir receives make death less appealing, and a poetic appreciation of finally finding someone who notices that he is still breathing, and suffering. Yunan premiered at the Berlinale in post-2023 Germany, at a time marked by heightened anti-immigrant discourse that continues to intensify in the public sphere and in decision making, while solidarity with migrant communities is demonised. Fakher Eldin imagines solidarity not as a grand declaration, but as the simple act of refusing to abandon a stranger in his despair.

Director, screenwriter, Editor: Ameer Fakher Eldin
Cast: Georges Khabbaz, Hanna Schygulla, Tom Wlaschiha, Ali Suliman, Sibel Kekilli, Laura Sophia Landauer
Producers: Dorothe Beinemeier, Jiries Copti, Tony Copti, Steffen Gerdes
Cinematography: Ronald Plante
Music: Suad Bushnaq
Production companies: Red Balloon Film, Microclimat Films, Intramovies, Fresco Films
Venue: Amman Intl. Film Festival – Awal Film (Out of Competition)
In Arabic, German
125 minutes

Reflecting on this year’s theme, “Beyond the Frame,” the President of the Festival, Princess Rym Ali, said: “Our theme for this year’s Festival reflects the importance of filmmaking and its effects beyond the frame. Every day stories are being translated to screen, fostering community, understanding and acceptance. In the ever-changing state of the world, cinema offers comfort to the viewers, connecting audiences at a much deeper level. This year, we are celebrating filmmakers who create these stories and bring people together, in the worst of times and the best of times.”

With festival director and co-founder Nada Doumani at its head and Bassam Alasad returning as head of industry development, the festival rests on solid foundations. People to watch this year are two new additions to the team: co-heads of programming Fadi Haddad and Murad Abu Eisheh. The selection includes 82 films from 27 countries with a spotlight on Tunisian cinema and its acclaimed directors from Nouri Bouzid to Kaouther Ben Hania.

AIFF groups its films in six main categories: Arab Feature Narrative Competition, Arab Feature Documentary Films, Non-Arab Feature Competition, Arab Short Film Competition, Made in Jordan and Out of Competition. Winners in the competitive sections will receive Amman’s traditional award, the Black Iris, accompanied by cash prizes. The Black Iris trophy was designed for the festival’s first edition by leading Jordanian artist Mohanna Durra. The iris is the country’s national flower and its balance between delicacy and resilience aptly symbolizes the challenges facing filmmakers working on their first projects.

“This year brings together a remarkable number of films grappling with questions of belonging, identity, and the search for stability in an increasingly uncertain world,” noted Fadi Haddad, Head of Programming for Arab Feature Narratives and Arab Narrative Short Films. “While the stories come from very different countries and contexts, what connects them is a shared commitment to exploring what it means to live, dream and create in times of profound transformation. Together, they reflect both the diversity and the resilience of contemporary Arab cinema.”

Murad Abu Eisheh, who programmed Arab Feature Documentaries and Non-Arab Feature Films, had this to say: “This year, the Non-Arab Feature Competition and the Arab Feature Documentary Competition converge around a shared theme: the bonds that shape our existence, whether forged through family, love, friendship, or collective memory. Spanning diverse geographies, generations, and cinematic sensibilities, the selected films are united by a common question: how does individual life take shape under the weight of broader social and political forces without being uprooted from their shared humanity?”

In line with the festival’s emphasis on supporting new filmmakers and celebrating first-time achievements, the non-competitive section “First & Latest” brings renowned international filmmakers working in many fields of cinema to the festival to screen their first and most recent films. They will share their knowledge in master classes and talks that offer the audience a close-up look at how their personal creative style has evolved over years of experience.

AMMAN FILM INDUSTRY DAYS

The festival has announced a number of events to be hosted by the Amman Film Industry Days (AFID), including masterclasses, panels and discussions with experienced directors and film professionals. Also announced are three pitching platforms for projects in development and postproduction, where a jury will grant in-kind and cash awards to winning projects. The Amman Film Market connects filmmakers in a dedicated space where they can attract the attention of funders, partners and distributors.

The Short Film Incubator is a new program launched in partnership between the Royal Film Commission – Jordan and AFID, supporting 15 short film projects in development. Selected filmmakers will work with mentors to strengthen their scripts, dossiers, and pitching materials before pitching their projects during AFID for the chance to win a cash development award.

The festival is supported by its partners, including the Jordan Tourism Board, The Royal Film Commission – Jordan, Abdali Investment and Development, Zain Jordan, Royal Jordanian, Ministry of Culture, Ghiath & Nadia Sukhtian Foundation, Greater Amman Municipality, Cozmo, FromSoda, TAJ Cinemas, Institut Français – Jordan.

The picture is set and shot in Germany, specifically Berlin, where Saeivar is based. It’s also where the 50 year-old Murad (Kida Khodr Ramadan) has spent most of his life, as his parents left Turkey for Europe four decades prior. Murad works in his father’s restaurant alongside his much younger brother Kerem (Jael Cem Ilhan), and the family leads a seemingly ordinary life. Then, one day, a photo starts circulating.

The snapshot reveals Kerem is gay, a deadly sin within the extremely devoted Muslim community the family belongs to. The local sheikh comes to the conclusion that Kerem’s body has been taken over by Satan, and the young man himself starts second-guessing his life choices and wondering whether he should submit to the rituals meant to purge him of evil spirits. The scandal, which jeopardizes his mental health and physical safety, also drives a wedge between him and his father. Only Murad shows real support, as he’s always had an ambivalent relationship with the spiritual plane, a feeling shared by his wife Leyla (Nicolette Krebitz), who immigrated from Kosovo as a child refugee due to persecution for her family’s beliefs.

The inciting incident may involve Kerem, but the plot revolves chiefly around Murad, who carries most of the film’s thematic and emotional weight, a heavy burden for a character who limps due to a pre-existing physical ailment (the title is the Arabic word for a medical technique that comes into play in a key scene). Saeivar, himself of Turkish descent, approaches the subject matter with a critical yet empathetic eye, working with cinematographer Emre Erkmen to capture the contradictions of living in an overall progressive city while still being trapped inside a far more conservative microcosm. The nuances dominate the first half of the picture, a very strong portrait of generational conflict and brotherly solidarity.

Things get a tad messier in the second half, which builds on the strong foundations laid down in the first while also adding new material that feels at odds with the overall feel of the film, both narratively and tonally. In particular, two subplots revolving around the two most recognizable faces in the cast – Nastassja Kinski as an old family friend who is sadly no longer all there mentally, and Moritz Bleibtreu as a practitioner of alternative medicine – add a touch of humor that is perhaps too broad to fully be of a piece with what was happening before. But even in that unfocused second half, there are enough grace notes that help bring the story of Murad and Kerem back on track, leading to a thematically satisfying dénouement.

Director, Screenwriter: Nader Saeivar
Cast: Kida Khodr Ramadan, Moritz Bleibtreu, Nicolette Krebitz, Jael Cem Ilhan, Nastassja Kinski, Aziz Capkurt, Vedat Erincin, Derya Durmaz
Producers: Jafar Panahi, Said Nur Akkus, Murat Seker
Cinematography: Emre Erkmen
Production design: Michael Schindlmeier
Music: Hossein Mirzagholi
Sound: Andreas Mücke
Production companies: ArtHood Films, sugarWorkz, Lightburst Pictures GmbH, JPJ Film Productions
World sales: ArtHood Entertainment
Venue: Karlovy Vary International Film Festival (Crystal Globe Competition)
In Turkish, German
104 minutes

The story is a cornerstone of drama itself: warrior Odysseus (Matt Damon), following his triumphs in the Trojan War, attempts to return home but encounters many obstacles along the way, from a terrifying Cyclops (Bill Irwin) to the literally bewitching Calypso (Charlize Theron). The longer Odysseus stays away, the more difficult it is for his loving wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) to stave off the many suitors who seek to usurp Odysseus’ throne and his place in Penelope’s bed. Young prince Telemachus (Tom Holland) goes out to seek his father, while duplicitous suitor Antinous (Robert Pattinson, complete with villain-bangs) plans to manipulate the situation in his favor.

Nolan’s love for non-chronological narrative can be exhausting — Tenet should have come with its own yarn-board — but he manages to jump around the saga of Odysseus in fascinating ways by moving from narrator to narrator, each providing a different flashback to bring us to Odysseus’ current state. They include Menelaus (Jon Bernthal), brother of Agamemnon (Benny Safdie), and Odysseus’ devoted swineherd and fight trainer Eumaeus (John Leguizamo).

If it sounds like Nolan is spinning an impossible amount of plates here, he is, but even by his standards the cross-cutting and moments of circling back make for an impressive feat of storytelling. (He’s helped greatly by the wig team behind Damon’s beard — its length and color constantly lets us know where we are on the timeline.) The auteur’s script is matched by the film’s visual and aural pleasures: Nolan regular Hoyte van Hoytema makes great use of the IMAX screen, never providing a wide tracking shot when he can provide a very wide tracking shot, the kind of camera movement you can feel in your chest.

The film wisely acknowledges both the dramatic satisfaction of battlefield glory and the genuine pain and sorrow of war and its capacity to destroy loved ones, communities, civilizations. Ludwig Göransson’s score matches the story’s many tones, from thrilling bombast to mournful horns that call to mind Pedro Almodóvar’s High Heels and its use of Miles Davis’ Sketches of Spain. That blend of majesty and tragedy is best encapsulated in the film’s Trojan horse, an object of beauty that’s also a trick and a trap, designed to backfire upon an unwitting enemy.

Damon is called upon to convey all of these conflicting notions, not only about warfare but also about the gods (he believes in Zeus’ version of the golden rule, yet he’s not above willfully offending Poseidon in the middle of an ocean voyage) and familial responsibility. As he did in Oppenheimer, Damon takes a role that could have been a stone-faced pillar of masculinity and instead finds notes of doubt, vulnerability, and even humor. The ensemble (which also includes Lupita Nyong’o, Samantha Morton, Elliot Page, and Corey Hawkins) is excellent throughout, taking some of literature’s greatest larger-than-life characters and finding the beating heart within.

Peak Nolan involves a mix of popcorn delights and intellectual contemplation, and he has rarely brought those two notions together as skillfully as he as in The Odyssey. It’s an epic saga of an epic saga, worthy of its source.

Director: Christopher Nolan
Screenwriter: Christopher Nolan, based on Homer’s Odyssey.
Cast: Matt Damon, Tom Holland, Anne Hathaway, Robert Pattinson, Lupita Nyong’o, Samantha Morton, John Leguizamo, Zendaya, Charlize Theron, Jon Bernthal, Hamish Patel, Bill Irwin, Elliot Page, Benny Safdie, Corey Hawkins, Mia Goth
Executive producer: Thomas Hayslip
Producers: Emma Thomas, Christopher Nolan
Director of photography: Hoyte van Hoytema
Production design: Ruth De Jong
Editing: Jennifer Lame
Music: Ludwig Göransson
Sound design: David V. Butler, supervising dialogue & ADR editor
Production companies: Universal Pictures, Syncopy
In English
180 minutes

The tension between tradition and the economic and educational possibilities that can be sought elsewhere in a globalised world has almost become a cliche theme of doc coming-of-age portraits, but Edoyan transcends reductive dichotomies, reaching something more ineffable and existential in her sensitive reflections on the bone-deep need for home and dreams. As the friends choose whether to stay or go, she presents their divergent perspectives without judgment, and conveys the intense anxiety caused by geopolitical instability in the Caucasus, where small nations vulnerable to outside aggression try to maintain ancestral roots while pushed to orient themselves toward either Russia or the European Union, and war in Ukraine rages on village televisions. The question of how to live in one’s homeland is a recurrent one for Montreal-based Edoyan, who explored it in Figure of Armen (2012), also about Armenia, and The Sea Between Us (2019), on Lebanon, where she grew up.

Edoyan is a second–generation Armenian, and a tenderness for place and lives on the land, as well as the lyrical possibilities of documentary to capture its contours and essence, is palpable in every frame. The camera tracks across the snow-coated landscape, almost caressing it, before dissolving into the sleek hide of a cow’s back. A quiet, monumental dignity is conferred on faces, which appear painterly and timeless in candlelit close-ups in church, or dining against inky shadow as rain beats down, through Etienne Roussy’s gorgeous cinematography.

The rhythms of outdoor labour, from raking hay in fields to washing carpets in the river and moving flocks of sheep, are unhurriedly portrayed. But it’s the conversations between the longtime friends Hakob, Karlen and Henrikh that provide both the political context and loose narrative drama. These exchanges are neatly explanatory enough to feel at times prompted or scripted, but they are welcome guides to a lesser-known transcontinental corner of the globe on the Armenian border that can confound in its historical complexities.

As most of his peers leave, Hakob, who works at a cheese factory, plans to remain. His mother was a kidnapped bride, but the balance of power is more ambiguous in his long-distance relationship with Monika, a dance teacher in Tbilisi he met online. Many youths have turned their attention to the European Union for migrant work, but Karlen, facing tough economic prospects as a shepherd on his family’s farm, prefers the prospect of labour in Russia. Henrikh, in contrast, is dead set on the promise of Europe. When protests ring out through the night sky in Tbilisi against the law on foreign influence introduced by the ruling Georgian Dream party that hampers Georgia’s chances of joining the European Union in an abrupt authoritarian turn, he is with them. He went to the capital to study international relations, and perceiving that kind of future at risk, he launches into political activism, and a path of risky resistance that has a multi-generational legacy.

The abandoned ruins of what was, in the Soviet era, a large milk factory but is now returning to nature, with cows roaming inside its walls, is the dramatic setting for discussions of the past between the young men, who disagree on whether nostalgia for the employment offered under socialism, or residual anger for the Soviet repression of Christian beliefs, is more salient. But it’s a poem by Vahan Terian (the village, despite its size, has a whole museum dedicated to him), that provides the film’s title, and its spirit. Shepherds who light fires on the mountain are free, but those who roam are prisoners wherever they go, it suggests. Edoyan’s film for a new era adds the tentative, fragile hope that there is formless but real possibility in blazes away from home — both the hearths of temporary respite, and the flames of continued resistance in exile.

Director: Marlene Edoyan
Producers: Dominique Dussault, Marlene Edoyan
Cinematographer: Etienne Roussy
Editor: Omar Elhamy
Sound: Alex Lane, Marie-Pierre Grenier, Irakli Ivanishivili, Lynne Trepanier
Music: Mathieu Charbonneau, Christophe Lamarche-Ledoux
Production companies: Nemesis Films (Canada)
Sales: Filmotor
Venue: Yerevan (Regional Competition)
In Armenian, Georgian
94 minutes