In other words, the film forces us (discomfortable, uncomfortable) to face things we would rather deny: writers, equal parts of truth and novel tellers can imagine a future that feels like ours. Not only is our self-portrait stitched because of Orwell’s sly warning of power, we still insist that it is just fiction.
“They lie, act, arrest people on the streets, and the information that scares you overflows your message,” Peck added. “They terrorized, you know, that’s working. It’s an incredible attack.”
Put your soul in your hands
Where Orwell: 2+2 = 5 Warn us about authoritarianism, Porsey’s Put your soul in your hands Force us to face the daily reality of living under military control, especially in Gaza.
In early 2024, Iran-born director Sepideh Farsi arrived in Cairo with the notebook on hand just to find that the gates of Gaza were closed on her. Palestinian refugees suggested that she call her 24-year-old photographer Fatma Hassouna in Gaza. Through her camera and sound, Porsey discovered the only window she could open.
“I’ve never had such a deep relationship with someone I’ve never met…this feeling of being locked down in a country where you can’t leave,” Falsey told Wired. “Then, it’s just the magic of encounter, the alchemy of humanity, her smile is infectious.”
Let your soul go In the process of cruel military siege, it is not just a record of someone’s life. The persistence of war and single life is the same. It claims that genocide and people of all abilities always seek one thing: erasure. But Hassouna’s smile, divided completely through the 112-minute route through video calls, makes this goal impossible.
The opening shots of Hassouna and Farsi introduce the film with this viewpoint, which not only feels personal but is also very social. There are talks about dreams, heading to fashion shows, her hopes for the war ending, while Porsey occasionally interrupts with the muse to talk about the wandering of her own domestic cat.
Through this film, Hasselner is not only a photographer, but also a witness to life, insisting on existence. She sings, writings and compositions the small but stubborn beautiful glitters in the world – moments of excitement, gestures, flickering and holding. Israel’s weight squeezed into her mind, but in her eyes, in her shots, you feel resilience is not heroism, but a kind of ruthless survival.
Their dialogue flashes in and out-BAD connections, cutoff points, pixelated resolution. Porsey embraced glitches as part of her film life, leaving the audience feeling her frustration and the strangeness of connecting with Gaza. “By keeping these pauses and disconnects, I’m conveying something very strange about the connection to Gaza because Gaza can’t reach it, but it’s. It’s like another planet.”
Filming a movie for Porsey is like living in two worlds at once: recording Hassona from a distance, of course, but also getting close to friends, witnesses and humans. “We’re both shooting and shooting,” she reflected. “I have to stay natural, but I also have to be in control as a filmmaker in some way. Because, of course, I need to be able to react to her the right way.”
