Cinema Wednesdays - H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Lavoyer<\/i><\/p>\n
At around twelve, Zain runs away from home after his father and mother agree to give their eleven-year-old daughter, Sahar, to their landlord. But the streets through which the \u00ablittle man\u00bb wanders are nothing, nothing like those we walk here in Switzerland. Firstly, because these are the streets of Beirut (Lebanon), not those of Berne, Biel or Lausanne. The streets of Beirut are made up of low-roofed buildings, with fabric or metal doors padlocked with chains, and on the doorsteps of which stand the neighbors, the comrades in misery.<\/p>\n
With no papers and nothing but his disgust for a life that has spared him neither poverty nor hunger, little Zain al-Haaj, with his frail body and huge black eyes, manages to find enough to eat and never seems to stop putting one step in front of the other. Until he meets Rahil, an undocumented Ethiopian woman and her two-year-old son, Yonas. This is the beginning of a reciprocal relationship of protection and care, a semblance of stability and a hint of tenderness that cannot survive the streets of Beirut, forced precariousness, smugglers, hunger, the need for money and powdered milk.<\/p>\n
\u00abKfar. The village. \u00bbNahum. The consolation. So was baptized a small fishing village in what we call the ancient province of Judea (now West Bank and Israeli territory). A place Jesus had visited. A village of consolation by virtue of its name, but one that eventually disappeared from today's geographical maps - a fact that can also be seen as a sign of grace, given the situation in these dry lands with their extreme temperatures.<\/p>\n
Why talk about the etymology of the word, why discuss the city that is no more, when we're talking about a film? Well, because perhaps the director should have considered the irony of this etymology for her film, which is its antonym. But a \u00abcapharna\u00fcm\u00bb is also a big mess, a place where everything and anything is piled up and superimposed. For sure, a Swiss will find Beirut disorganized from its streets to its inhabitants. In Capharna\u00fcm, <\/em>yet there's not much luck to be found, and not much hope, so to speak.<\/p>\n A film like this isn\u2019t meant to inspire hope. But what, exactly, is its purpose? Two hours of misery that we can neither share nor imagine, which thrusts the everyday realities of refugees\u2019 lives right in our faces\u00a0around the world<\/em>, of those who have a home but live in poverty\u2014enough to leave you feeling deeply depressed and suffocated by a sense of helplessness.<\/p>\n Nadine Labaki has written a screenplay brimming with events and a diverse cast of characters. The good thing is that each of these characters contributes something, playing a role that helps us better understand the complexity of life as a mother, a brother, an undocumented worker, or a smuggler when you\u2019re Syrian in Lebanon (or elsewhere). The flip side of the coin, however, gradually comes to light.<\/p>\n