Zindeeq

We will never know Zindeeq the character’s name. Expatriate filmmaker, he is in Palestine to gather evidence on the exile conditions of those who lived the Nakba in 1948. With Rasha, his assistant, he lamely renews a link through this film whose idea soon turns into a sleepless night in his own hometown, Nazareth. There, where he hand found his sister at their uncle’s funeral, fearing revenge after the violent crime committed by his nephew, M. vainly wanders from one hotel to another in search of a place to sleep. Stumbling on real life plagued by insane disruptions, multiple and deep consequences of fifty years of war and occupation, M. is a stranger in his own land. Since when ? What story can we really tell that would possibly give a true account of the Palestinian tragedy ? What personal hope can still blossom under these conditions ? All these questions haunt Michel Khleifi’s crepuscular film. Looking into the elders’ past for a story that his mother might not have passed on to him, divided by the consequences of his own remoteness, M. can not even calm the thirst that keeps him at Virgin Mary’s drained source. Any mark of eastern Christian culture for that matter seems destined for an imminent consummation. JB