NYFF Review: Paradise Now

Paradise Now is a film about suicide bombers, co-written and directed by a Nazareth-born Palestinian. On the surface, it is easy to dismiss such a film as anti-Israeli propaganda, and to find it unworthy of serious examination. But what happens when you find out that the film has an Israeli producer, who thinks it’s crucially important that the film be shown in his homeland? Or that, while shooting in Nablus, the production team was constantly under threat from groups who thought they were making an anti-Palestinian film? And that a location manager was kidnapped from the Nablus set? Dismissal is suddenly harder. Like the story of its creation, Paradise Now is in fact a work of great complexity and passion that refuses to reduce the issues it tackles to simple black and white.

When the film opens, long-time friends Said (Kais Nashef, who gives a quietly soulful performance) and Khaled (Ali Suliman) are working as car mechanics, though neither bothers to disguise his total lack of interest in his job. They end the day as they obviously do most days, sitting together on a hill above the refugee camp in which they live, smoking a hookah, drinking tea, and passing the time with the idle chatter of friends in a directionless rut. Far below the pair, the camp is shockingly dense, with dingy white homes crammed into every square inch of available space. Their perch is surrounded by discarded car parts and other household garbage, but the poverty around them is a fact of life for Said and Khaled, not something to lament.

After they part, both men are approached by friends who inform them that they have been chosen to carry out a suicide attack the next day; both absorb the news with quiet acceptance and a hint of pride. After spending a final, melancholy night at home with families to whom they are forbidden to say goodbye, the friends are taken to prepare for the bombings. The process of preparation, from cleansing to filming martyr’s videos; from haircuts to a final meal, takes the form of a soothing ritual, during which Said and Khaled finally surrender themselves completely to their shared destiny. Dressed in simple black suits with new, short haircuts, the friends are totally transformed; they now will fit in easily wherever they are sent. Finally, after a meeting with the unnamed group’s strikingly charismatic reclusive leader, the details of the attack are explained, and the bombers are driven towards the border.

When they are left at the border, however, the routine that has so far been flawless suddenly goes terribly wrong:  after passing through a hole in the fence that surrounds Nablus, Said and Khaled’s progress towards a waiting car is unexpectedly interrupted by the ill-timed arrival of another vehicle. In the panicked flight that ensues, the two are separated and, for the first time, the film begins to ask questions. The sudden interruption of their journey towards martyrdom jars both Said and Khaled out of their mellow acceptance, and both men are forced to consider what lies ahead. When Said and Khaled finally arrive together in Tel Aviv only a matter of hours later, both of them have been deeply shaken by what they’ve been through. Despite the fact that, as viewers, we have been with them every step of the way, we remain as unsure as they are how the trip will end.

Because of its subject matter, Paradise Now is unavoidably political. Director Hany Abu-Assad’s decision to show a suicide bombing from the point of view of the attackers was a risky one, because if the film is well-made (and it is), he will inevitably ask viewers to sympathize with killers. And Abu-Assad is far too sophisticated to leave it at that. His film is peppered with discussions about the relationship between Israel and Palestine, and about the validity of bombings as a means of resistance. Though at first they are reluctant to seriously confront such a divisive issue, the crisis of the interrupted attack puts everyone in the film so on edge that their self-censorship quickly melts away. In place of the polite skirting that the question received in the film’s first half, its second half features screaming matches about Israel and the bombings, as well as a stunning recitation by Said of how his life has inexorably driven him towards this day. There is no sanguine assuredness now; no assumption that that the issue only has two simple sides. Indeed, by the time the film is over, it is hard to be sure about anything.

Abu-Assad, however, has given us much more than a thoughtful political film, for unexpectedly lurking beneath the politics of his film is an old-fashioned, white-knuckle thriller. Though it lacks the frantic chase scenes and gun battles that Hollywood has taught us to expect from thrillers, Paradise Now remains excruciatingly tense. From the moment the attack veers off-course, the question of “Will they or won’t they?” is forced to the film’s foreground, and the audience is placed in an emotionally dangerous position. When Said and Khaled are first separated, Khaled makes his way back to their handlers with the bad news. Because Said is missing, the militants make the precautionary assumption that he has turned against them, and perhaps has even gone to the Israeli authorities. A frantic Khaled insists that his friend would never betray the cause, and begs to be allowed to find him. Meanwhile, Said has re-crossed the border on his own and is waiting at a bus stop. Knowing that the commitment of a character we care about is being doubted, our instant, emotional reaction is to root for Said to explode his bomb, thus proving his loyalty. The impulse had barely passed through me when I realized with horror what I was thinking, and my brain desperately tried to rein in my emotions. I looked around guiltily, wondering if anyone could detect the brief crack in my fundamental disapproval of murder as a political tool. My next thought, though, was the realization that everyone around me had felt it, too.

That brief moment of identification is what makes Paradise Now so important. Abu-Assad doesn’t aim to convince anyone that suicide bombers are right - and his film will never have that effect, despite what its critics are bound to say. All Paradise Now aims to do is create characters in whom we believe; to give humanity to the mysterious figures that we see on CNN. By doing that effectively, Abu-Assad forces us to question our assumptions about the Israel-Palestine conflict. Even if the reconsideration is internal and private, it gives added depth to our understanding of the complexities of life in the Middle East. Any film that can do that deserves our deepest respect.