Wajib (Palestine-France-Columbia-UAE-Qatar-Germany-Norway, 2017)

Father-son relationships everywhere?

I didn’t know they had green wheelie-bins in Nazareth, a Palestinian city occupied by Israel since 1948. Of course there’s no reason why they shouldn’t have them or that I should know, however what is striking about Wajib is despite the differences between life there and, well, most other places, there’s more in common than not. The title refers to the tradition of personally handing out wedding invitations in the Arab-Christian community and we spend the day with real-life father-son, Mohammad and Saleh Bakri, playing the key roles.

The conflict in the narrative derives from the inter-generational differences, family problems that date back 20 years and the son’s politics, which have led him to live in Italy. He has returned for his sister’s wedding and finds his Dad has woven tales about him that he has told family and friends; the disconnect between these and the reality is one of the rich veins of humour in the film. Israeli presence is limited: in one scene soldiers, to the son’s outrage, frequent a local cafe. It’s not that writer director Annemarie Jacir has downplayed the Israeli government’s annexation of Palestinian land, or ignored the policies that are literally strangling the life out of the Palestinian people, rather she is offering a slice of life. It beggars belief that everyday life can go on for when we hear about the region, in the West, on the news it’s usually because there’s been violence resulting in deaths; and mostly only if they’re Israeli. Of course life does go on and here we can see some of it.

Mohammad and Saleh Bakri are both supremely effective, Mohammed (Dad), in particular, especially when his eyes droop slightly in resignation when he realises that politeness dictates he’s going to have to spend longer than he wants at a particular friend’s or relative’s. In one scene, his whole body gradually sags as a particularly pedantic recipient insists on reading out the whole invitation to them.

Obligations to friends and family everywhere can be burdensome but the Arab tradition of hospitality both accentuates this and, at the same time, shows the exceptional warmth of their community. Jacir isn’t soft-soaping though: a hairdresser praising the family immediately starts maliciously gossiping as soon as she thinks the son is out of hearing. I need to catch up with more of Jacir’s work and her script is a miracle of elaboration, basically two men chatting and meeting people, so to make that riveting takes real skill.

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