Like silenced echoes trapped in time, the footage that makes up A Fidai Film consists of remnants of a past that was meant to be erased. During the invasion of Beirut in 1982, the IDF targeted and looted the Palestine Research Centre, stealing countless documents and reels of footage, depriving the Palestinian people not only of their rights but also of their memory. However, in his latest film, Kamal Aljafari managed to recover some of this lost footage, crafting not just an archival excavation but a flickering act of defiance against colonialism.
Born and raised in occupied Palestine, in Ramla, Aljafari later moved to Europe, where he built his own distinct career in filmmaking. Yet, the struggles and conflicts of his homeland never left his mind and became an integral part of his work — A Fidai Film being a perfect example. The movie is almost entirely composed of archival footage, a technique he previously explored in Recollection (2015) and Paradiso, XXXI, 108 (2022). However, this is not merely a montage. Aljafari repurposes these stolen memories of his people to offer an unfiltered portrayal not only of their struggles but also of their everyday lives. It is a unique way of reclaiming a past that, even today, the colonizers attempt to bury deep.
Following the screening of the film at Barcelona’s film festival La Inesperada, we had the opportunity to speak with Aljafari and learn more about the production behind this powerful work.
This is not the first film that you have composed out of footage that you did not shoot yourself. What attracts you to this approach to filmmaking?
I think, with time, I realised that found footage and archival footage allow you to tell the story differently, in a way. It allows me to really study patterns and look at the country in a way that is not possible to look at when you shoot now. So you have the possibility of studying the image.
Most of the footage used in A Fidai Film is still in possession of Israel. How did you gain access to the material?
I had to collect it in different places and sources, but I didn't have direct access to the Israeli military archives. Many Israeli academics, who were specialists in post-colonial studies, had all this material in their houses or offices. So, I got in touch with many of them. However, that was the most unpleasant part of the job. I was put in this weak position while they could do anything with that material. I had to negotiate, and they gave it to me. But it was in a very low quality, though I know they do have it in a much higher resolution. Nevertheless, I did what I could for the production.
For me, it was like a second robbery. The first one in 1982, during the invasion of Beirut, when the Israelis looted the Palestine Research Centre. And now with the scholars. They could have translated this material into much more interesting research works, but they didn't do it. They are the owners of this material, and the interaction was very ugly and unpleasant. I think this situation represents the struggle of the Palestinian people. We have lost our rights, but also our history because it is not in our hands. That’s why I called these images of the archives ‘the camera of the dispossessed.’
For me, it was like a second robbery. The first one in 1982, during the invasion of Beirut, when the Israelis looted the Palestine Research Centre. And now with the scholars. They could have translated this material into much more interesting research works, but they didn't do it. They are the owners of this material, and the interaction was very ugly and unpleasant. I think this situation represents the struggle of the Palestinian people. We have lost our rights, but also our history because it is not in our hands. That’s why I called these images of the archives ‘the camera of the dispossessed.’
Why do you think Israel is so adamant to not give back the footage?
Because they want to control everything. They want to control even the image of the people about themselves. It’s an obsession of every colonial power — to distort the image, to distort the history. As you know, the Israeli army has always done an incredible job of propaganda, and they did have propaganda in Arabic as well.
I remember an interview with a Palestinian fighter who was with them. It was an absolutely ridiculous and grotesque situation. What they wanted to show was the image of the Palestinian fighter as a destroyer, as a sick person. They asked: who are you? And he answered: I am a destroyer. My job is to destroy. I wake up thinking about destroying — it was totally grotesque.
I remember an interview with a Palestinian fighter who was with them. It was an absolutely ridiculous and grotesque situation. What they wanted to show was the image of the Palestinian fighter as a destroyer, as a sick person. They asked: who are you? And he answered: I am a destroyer. My job is to destroy. I wake up thinking about destroying — it was totally grotesque.
“We [the Palestinians] have lost our rights, but also our history because it is not in our hands.”
During the negotiations to get access to the footage, did they ever give you a reason or justification for why they keep these images to themselves, rather than giving it back?
The justification was absurd. They told me that they couldn’t give it to me because they don’t have the copyright. It’s really absurd. It’s so difficult to understand their mind, how it functions. It’s just a position of power.
Given the difficulties in obtaining this footage, do you feel there are missing pieces that you would have liked to include in the film?
There are lots of missing pieces. It’s not possible to make a film where you can complete the history. That’s why the film is made in fragments, because I could only collect traces.
In the film, you seem less interested in providing a conventional storytelling structure and rather focus on memory and the visual aspect. Can you elaborate on your process of handling and working with the footage in A Fidai Film?
It’s not something that I think. I have to do experimental cinema, something different. It’s just natural that I told the story the way I told it because of the fact that we don’t have access to the material. So it’s really a handful of traces that I’m piecing together. And through that, I try to express myself.
There is a scene you took from an Israeli film where a couple is talking. At first, based on their conversation, I assumed they were Palestinian. Later, I realised they were actually Israeli, which was quite shocking. Why did you choose to include this scene in A Fidai Film?
Because, in a way, it’s so absurd. It is a fictional scene, but, for me, it expressed a lot about the Israeli situation. It was like a documentary. I like to kind of turn the image against itself, creating new meaning. That's why I repeat the sentence again later.
During the film, you added a red colour and silhouettes to some of the images. Could you talk about that choice?
I work with abstractions, which kind of help to express myself in a way that is detached from the people that you see but the ideas that they represent. The colour red represents everything I felt during the work I did on this film. It was all red. It also allowed me to show this repetition that was always there. For example, I linked the color to all these fires that we see from the beginning to the end, many caused by the Israeli army. These fires didn’t start with them, but with the British. They also used fire and blood to repress any liberation movement. They brought that with them from their experience in Ireland.
The colour red also represents blood — the blood of the Palestinian people that is being shed all the time, which is also representative of the terrible situation that my people live in. Because Palestine is a country that is full of wounds, and the wounds are red. There is also this scene at the beginning, when we see the city of Jaffa, the quality of the material was so bad that there were these white stripes. So, I had this idea of filling the lines with red. That’s how the idea began.
The colour red also represents blood — the blood of the Palestinian people that is being shed all the time, which is also representative of the terrible situation that my people live in. Because Palestine is a country that is full of wounds, and the wounds are red. There is also this scene at the beginning, when we see the city of Jaffa, the quality of the material was so bad that there were these white stripes. So, I had this idea of filling the lines with red. That’s how the idea began.
“I have to do experimental cinema, something different. It’s just natural that I told the story the way I told it because of the fact that we don’t have access to the material.”
Why did you also use red to cover the captions added by the Israeli army? What was your intention in obscuring them?
It’s covering and also sabotaging. And, at the same time, creating a new image for a history that is not possible to complete. It’s part of history, this kind of destruction.
Do you think A Fidai Film is relatable to other places that have suffered, or are suffering, from occupation and oppression?
It’s not a film that everybody will like, but I think it’s about the human condition — not only about Palestine. Abstraction helps a lot, but you can’t make a film or write a book for everybody.
Have you ever felt that your work has been cancelled or censored due to the themes it portrays?
There are places, like for example Germany, where they don't show my work anymore. I lived there, and that's the absurd thing. The Germans now are the most extreme supporters of Israel.
Do you think it’s perhaps because they feel guilty?
Yes, but guilt alone is not enough in this life.
