The tale of a Palestinian family is narrated across a 75-year span, from the Nakba (displacement) under Israeli occupation in 1948 to the first Intifada (rebellion) in the 1980s, to present-day Palestine, in this moving drama that’s Jordan’s submission to the Oscars this year.
An ever-relevant family portrait powered by moments of loss and hope. Cherien Dabis, a Palestinian-American filmmaker who broke out with her 2009 immigrant debut, Amreeka, draws on her parents' experiences of displacement to paint a picture of her homeland that’s anything but one-note. The slow decay of a family home is captured in time jumps that transport audiences from the vibrant, sun-drenched orange groves of Jaffa to the claustrophobic confines of encampments in occupied Palestine. But the realities of occupation aren’t entirely tragic with Dabis continually peppering hope with dynamic moments like an alfresco wedding in the camps, a family portrait in the hand-painted backdrop of a beach, and flag-waving processions of young Intifada rebels as they brave gunfire with stones and slogans.
Talented acting ensemble led by the Bakri family and Dabis herself. The late Palestinian acting legend Mohammad Bakri dominates the ensemble as Sharif, an aging family patriarch who longs for a pre-Nakba Palestine while grappling with his fickle memory. In a meta-casting choice, Sharif’s younger, more rebellious version is portrayed by Bakri’s younger son, Adam Bakri, while his oldest, Saleh, also plays his on-screen son, Salim. Saleh — who was terrific in a self-assured turn as an armed resistance leader in Palestine 36 — delivers another masterclass performance, only with muted silences and burdening sighs. The film’s emotional crescendo is achieved in an achingly haunting scene where Saleh’s protagonist, Salim, is stopped by Israeli soldiers amidst a curfew. Held at gunpoint and ridiculed in front of his preteen son, the immense restraint that Saleh Bakri carries bears testimony to the survival of the Palestinian populace to this day. Salim’s son detests his old man for not standing up, a juvenile angst that drives him to a life-or-death struggle against the state. In this tense moment, Dabis proves how an occupying force doesn’t always require guns and missiles to break families. Sometimes, all it takes is soul-crushing humiliation. Dabis herself is tenderly effective in the ensemble, portraying Salim’s wife Hanan. Much like Saleh, she balances her suppressed rage with a parental sense of reasoning.
All That’s Left of You ultimately shines the best in the quieter moments when compared to the overly sentimental bits. While Dabis exercises great control over this sensitive examination of intergenerational trauma, the narrative loses steam in its second half as heavy-handed sentimentality and verbose exposition take over. Violent uprisings and personal losses give way to moral dilemmas for the family, which feel either rushed and over-explained. Thankfully, the film still sticks the landing with a surprisingly optimistic third act, a sea-facing reunion that yearns for the curfew-free days of the orange groves. Dabis and her crew had started filming in 2023, just a few days before the October 7 incidents. Displaced even in production (the rest of the film was completed in Jordan and Cyprus), the director kept going on, much like the many generations of real-life survivors she honors.
Multigenerational Palestinian drama can be overly sentimental, but it is terrifically acted and profoundly moving.
All That's Left of You is showing now in select US theaters
