A Beautiful Night of Collective Grief and Catharsis
On the Beirut premiere of my short film, Buffer Zone
On December 16th, the Anthropology Society of Lebanon hosted a screening and discussion of my short film, Buffer Zone, in the Arab Image Foundation’s auditorium and library in the Hamra neighborhood of Beirut.
When we first announced the premiere on Instagram, it got a lot of engagement but you can never tell who will actually show up to something the night of (and how many of those people were based in Lebanon) so I was still unsure of the turnout. My underestimation of how many people would show is based on former events I’ve hosted. I know we’re all a little flaky, especially that this screening was scheduled at the beginning of Beirut’s holiday arrivals and rainy season. People will get sick, stuck in traffic, stuck at the office, have other commitments or circumstances.
The AIF auditorium fits 40 people and we debated using a registration link to avoid turning away a crowd who didn’t have seats. Instead, we kept it open to avoid discouraging people from coming and we insisted on punctuality.
Well, the turnout was great. People started walking down the steps into the library 45 minutes early! We added chairs in the auditorium and some people gathered on the floor in front of the screen until the AIF director said the magic words—we’re at capacity! I stood at the back by the door like a bouncer because I didn’t want tardy folks to walk in halfway through the film AND to disrupt the viewing for others in doing so.
After the film ended, the audience turned to me, clapped, and I burst into tears. The pride and raw emotions I saw in the crowd were too much and I cracked like a runny egg. My mom and friends circled me and I’ve never been hugged so many times in one evening. 🥹
We took a short break and then the discussion began. The audience asked thoughtful questions and some just shared what they were feeling without a point to make. It was really beautiful to be a part of and an honor to be behind the catalyst that unexpectedly formed that circle of compassion.
📌 If you’re interested in hosting a screening in your city, read this first and then reach out!
Before the screening…
I hosted a separate screening for my extended family at my parents’ house on the Sunday before the public screening. For some of my cousins, it was their first time returning to the village and they were doing so through my eyes/lens. I didn’t foresee the responsibility or the importance of that. My uncle’s wife (who is also from Kfarkila) was the only one who verbalized a reaction after watching. She said she was surprised by my sense of belonging given that I come from two places. She also said that I highlighted significant things they weren’t even conscious of.
I had been wondering if my family would show up to the public screening and how I would feel about those who didn’t. At the same time, I became more cognizant of how seeing it for the first time publicly could be too jolting. After the family viewing, I saw what a tough watch it was for them. I understood if they didn’t want to see it again with an audience and I knew that there were others who would be there for me. The family could skip it and I’d understand. I’d be okay.
Unlike my previous shorts which were immediately posted online, I took my time with deciding how this one was going to be experienced. I wanted its debut to be intimate and intentional but I didn’t know that until I started planning for it to be seen.
Many people asked me, “shu el hadaf?/what’s the goal?” when I told them that I had finished my film. It’s a fair question to be asked but one that I hadn’t thought of while editing. I was making this film because I wanted it to exist for me and my family. But what’s the message? Is it about getting views or reach? Through this film, I’m realizing what I want from the medium as a creator. I don’t care for publicity or recognition or laurels from film festivals. For me, film is a visual diary. A record of the now.
I signed up for a film programming/curation workshop at USJ led by Nour Ouayda. I had attended three of the five sessions before the screening (and missed the fourth because it was on the same day as my screening). The timing was perfect because the sessions gave me the right parameters to consider when you’re pairing films with an audience. The more we talked about the viewing-stage of filmmaking, the more I felt that my intuition had led me in the right direction before I had the words to explain why I wanted what I wanted.
The day of, I got apology texts from friends saying they wouldn’t make it and I felt a bit of relief with each one. My sister also changed her mind about coming because she had been dreading seeing it again in public. I was more anxious about the response and discussion - how would people I don’t know feel about this film? What about people who weren’t from the South? Was I ready for the opinions of others?
After the screening…
I’m not as detached as I thought. After months of sitting in this footage, I thought I’d been through enough exposure therapy that the topic didn’t affect me in the same way anymore. It doesn’t hit me the way it hits an audience or even my family. However, seeing it through the eyes of others made me realize I’m still protective of this story, what it represents, and all that I’m sharing with friends and strangers. It is the most vulnerable work I’ve ever done.
My mom came for the screening portion. I was happier than I thought I would be about her being there. She got to meet so many of the friends I’m always talking about.
I received three bouquets 💐💐💐 for a creative achievement and that rarely gets celebrated by your peers in the same way as a conventional milestone (an engagement, wedding, or baby). I’m also born on an over-commercialized holiday where the price of flowers is robbery so it’s a big deal when I get them! When we went to grab some food after and I said I was so drained, my friend said, “yeah, you just gave birth!”
I was overwhelmed by the support and eagerness to see this story. I don’t know if that was more for the film’s subject (Lebanon’s South) or who was behind it (me) but I’d like to think it was the combination.
I was unexpectedly drained the next day. It took two days to recover but that might’ve been the post-screening bottle of wine/lack of sleep/dehydration catching up with me.
The film’s heaviness gave attendees the permission to share the weight they didn’t know they were carrying. That’s not my assumption, a couple people told me that they didn’t realize how much grief they’d been suppressing. The discussion that happened after the screening was intense and cathartic in the best way. The result was the film’s most gratifying and unexpected impact: it created space for others to process what we’ve all been/are going through.
Things people said that touched me deeply
That through the film, I rebuilt the house and it’s like we all visited Kfarkila together
That the film is proof of the life that was in Kfarkila, regardless of what Israel wants to erase
That it’s a generous work
That this film tells just one story from one village, that there are many others we will never know about
The following weekend, I ran into the instructor from last year’s USJ film workshop. He apologized for missing the screening but he was thrilled that I had made the film and then inadvertently turned its viewers into a support group. I felt validated in my choice of making it a communal, in-person gathering instead of a fleeting movie moment on devices. I don’t want what I made to be co-opted by other channels or agendas.
I’m now confident that small screenings with activations is how I want people to see Buffer Zone. I want their participation to be as intentional as mine and I want their experience of the film (and the film itself) to be protected. Restricting access is not to create an aura of exclusivity. The film and its audience deserve respect, intimacy, and safety. And they need space for that.
THANK YOU…
To the Anthropology Society in Lebanon (specifically Layla) and the Arab Image Foundation for hosting the screening and discussion, to Jowel C. for suggesting that collaboration when we were catching up over voicenotes one day, to Malek G. for saying “fuck the recipe” which gave me the courage to break the rules and just throw everything into the pot that held this project, to Ghina A. for hosting a film workshop in April that shook me out of the rut I was in, and to Rayyane T. for being a soundboard on our very first meeting (and to Paola B. for connecting us).
A MASSIVE HUG…
To all my wonderful friends who carry me through life, those who cheered me on for months and trusted that my finished work would be meaningful.
IT WAS POWERFUL, INTENSE, AND NEEDED…
So many people showed up for me - and the South by extension - and this special night unfolded exactly as I hoped it would, if not better. It was truly the highlight of my year and I’m so grateful to be surrounded by such big, tender, open hearts.