Film: The Time That Remains
Release date: 11th October 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Elia Suleiman
Starring: Matthieu Sibony, Elia Suleiman, Saleh Bakri, Leila Mouammar, Bilal Zidani
Genre: Drama
Studio: Drakes Avenue
Format: DVD
Country: UK/Italy/Belgium/France
In 2002, Elia Suleiman won the jury prize at the Cannes Film Festival for his film Divine Intervention. Sadly, as a representative of Palestine, the film was not allowed to become an Oscar contender thanks to the contentious decision not to recognise Palestine as a ‘legitimate nation’. It’s perhaps unsurprising that his latest production, The Time That Remains, has been presented as a product of Italy, France, Belgium and the UK. But is it a film deserving of awards?
Opening with director/star Elia Suleiman as a grown man in the back of a taxi, a sudden storm begins to batter the cab. Elia is lost, and barely seems to be found as the movie moves through its narrative. Covering the life of his father and himself, the film can be split into three distinct parts.
The first concerns his father, Fuad, (Saleh Bakri), an elegant freedom fighter in Nazareth. As his attempt to furnish the resistance with guns is uncovered, he is beaten and left for dead. This leads to the film’s second phase, which sees Fuad as an older man. Clearly a hero to his son Elia, we see him commit acts of bravery, thereby inspiring his son to quietly acquiesce with his views. As a grown man, the last chapter of the film sees the adult Elia observing modern-day Palestine in his detached, unemotional way…
The Time That Remains is a remarkably handsome film. Composed almost exclusively of wide-angle camera shots, it places its characters at the centre of enormous landscapes, in the midst of epically huge buildings, and even manages to make domestic scenes appear far bigger than they ought to – all thanks to the distance between the protagonists and the camera. Some of the resulting imagery is breathtaking, and a number of frames linger long in the memory: the blindfolded captives on their knees in an olive grove is particularly striking.
The long, clean lines which dominate the landscape of the film are not limited purely to the architectural views of Palestine. Scenes in cars feature windscreens wider than the screen itself, and the incoming tide reaches far beyond the peripheries of the frame. At times it feels slightly curious, but it fits perfectly with the detached view the director has taken to the events depicted.
There’s something very mannered about the majority of the film. The occupation of Nazareth is almost silent; eerily peaceful and beautiful. As the Brylcreemed Fuad, Bakri demonstrates on old-fashioned heroism which recalls actors like James Stewart. His upright posture and almost quaint approach to his illegal activities gives an otherworldliness which contrasts sharply with the savage beating he takes as he is left for dead. The stillness and relative calm is breached horrifically as he is attacked with rifle butts - and the scene is all the more effective for it.
Sadly, other contrasting scenes do not work quite so well. Although laced with surreal humour throughout, two episodes of out-and-out slapstick seem incongruous. These occur at the signing of a treaty which plays more like an outtake from the Benny Hill Show (including comedy fez), and an old fashioned slapping incident which makes very little sense in context.
Perhaps the most interesting segment of the film is the one in which Elia grows up. Shot as a series of episodes, we are able to live life through the eyes of Elia’s mother. She corresponds with exiled family members via letters, which are touching in their one-sidedness. Meanwhile, Fuad completes a series of lightly comic acts of kindness. Most notably, he helps save the life of a soldier trapped under a burning truck. More interestingly, he repeatedly saves the life of his deranged elderly neighbour – a man determined to ignite himself with damp matches after dousing himself in kerosene. The stoic way in which Fuad repeatedly deals with these pathetic (in the traditional sense of the word) episodes serve only to underline his understated heroism.
This repetition is mirrored in the conversation Fuad has night after night on his fishing trips. Constantly quizzed by patrolling soldiers, his responses never alter. It’s a device which serves to suggest that very little changes under the occupying forces. And so things continue, time passes, and characters come and go until Elia becomes the focus of the film.
At times, his silence frustrates. It’s evident earlier in the movie that he is capable of speech, so it’s safe to assume that his wordlessness is a signifier for something else. What that is, however, is unclear. Does he represent the futility of speaking out? The quiet acceptance of his own plight? As the film moves to its climax, many questions are posed and never fully resolved. It’s frustrating, especially as the final scene plays out – a series of new characters make their way across another typically wide frame. They are in an accident and emergency department, arguing, suffering – possibly being healed. It’s possibly a metaphor too far.
The Time That Remains is a glorious film to look at. Its visual style, stillness and calm make it the cinematic equivalent of a corridor full of beautiful landscapes. But for anyone not wholly familiar with Israeli/Palestinian history, it is perhaps too obtuse to be entirely enjoyable. As a series of set pieces it is a delight, yet as a whole it lacks the consistency to grip from start to finish. RW
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