At one point in All That’s Left of You, Salim (Saleh Bakri) takes his father Sharif (Mohammad Bakri) to the doctor for a check-up. As he tells the doctor about his father’s recent troubles with his memory, the doctor is unperturbed. Sharif is getting old, the doctor notes, and memory loss is to be expected.
“Maybe it’s God being kind by helping him forget,” the doctor says. But Sharif isn’t really forgetting so much as he is remembering — childhood memories of Jaffa coming to life before him, blissful memories of beauty and autonomy, more vivid than dreams.
Written and directed by Palestinian-American director Cherien Dabis, All That’s Left of You — which hits Canadian theatres on Jan. 30 — is an intergenerational drama that traces a family’s journey through the upheavals of 20th century Palestine: from the violent dispossession by Zionist forces during the 1948 Nakba, to popular uprising of the First Intifada in the late 80s. Sweeping in its scope and strident in its memory, yet tender and soft in its storytelling, the film is, put simply, a breathtaking achievement.
The film begins its story in the 1940s with young Sharif (Adam Bakri). Sharif and his young family live in Jaffa — a historic city located on the Mediterranean coast — on a thriving orange grove that ships the bright fruit all over the world. Young Salim (Salah Aldeen Mai) follows his father like a shadow, and it’s easy to see why. Sharif is a kind, warm and attentive father, teaching his kids poetry and making sure to tuck them in every night, but only after singing to them first. As a part of his community, Sharif is determined and strong-willed, a natural-born leader.
With the arrival of the Nakba in 1948, Zionist forces seize Jaffa, violently displacing thousands of Palestinian families to clear the way for the establishment of Israel. Sharif sends his family to stay with his wife’s brother while he remains to defend his beloved home. Salim, his mother, and his siblings end up in a refugee camp while Sharif is apprehended by Zionist forces.
Decades later, Salim has relocated to the occupied West Bank, where he lives with his father and his young family, who have managed to find stability and relative happiness. Salim is a teacher and his son Noor is a whip-smart reflection of young Salim. The older Sharif fondly recalls the days of freedom and prosperity before the Nakba, while Salim finds it too painful to remember. He prefers to live in the present. Young Noor, meanwhile, is enamoured of his grandfather and longs for a free Palestine. When Salim is humiliated by IDF soldiers in front of Noor, a rift grows between father and son. The story swiftly moves to the ‘80s and the First Intifada, a years-long uprising across Palestine, which leads to an incident that rocks Salim’s world.
The plot sounds ample, but the film’s direction is delicate and graceful, never leaving the viewers feeling as though something is left unsaid or belaboured. Dabis, who also appears in the film as Salim’s wife, understands the importance of leaving much of the storytelling to her actors and their characters.
The Bakris — who come from a family dynasty of Palestinian filmmakers and movie stars —are spellbinding here. The late Mohammad delivers a towering performance as a man who loudly and vibrantly loves his heritage and his family. He is sweet and irascible and it’s impossible to not miss him when he’s not on screen. Adam plays the young Sharif with all of his father’s verve, adding an incandescent charm and charisma, cutting a sharp, handsome figure you’d follow to the ends of the earth. And Saleh is heartbreaking as older Salim, his warm, teddy bear eyes understanding more than he is willing to vocalize. Where Salim’s father and son carry a rebellious spirit and an indefatigable fight and hope for life, Salim carries the knowledge of death — together they come to represent so many Palestinian souls.
Visually, the film is as stunning as it is crushing; the cinematography carries the film to the echelon where all our great epics live. But even as it depicts fictional characters, the film never loses its sense of reality and humanity. It remembers to remember.
Dabis takes care to depict the Zionists as human, earthly villains, not otherworldly monsters. The film is careful not to smooth their sharp edges, and through careful juxtaposition, we see that these characters are animated by the cold banality of colonial violence.
And to Sharif and Salim, Dabis allows mighty flourishes of freedom, balanced with moments of peace and quiet deliberation. These two men are the emotional anchor of this grand story — their performances sink into your soul as you watch, and stay with you long after the film ends.“Your humanity is also resistance,” a sheikh says to Salim and his wife at one point, as they consider a weighty decision. All That’s Left of You courses with humanity, and as such, it is an unignorable and unforgettable artwork of resistance.
