Sunduq al-dunyâ

I saw this rather accidentally last night and couldn't turn the TV set off until it was over - a good sign. This film is highly stylized, shots are often composed with the precision of paintings, and the film is acted in an almost expressionist, deliberately apsychological manner; it is sometimes slightly reminiscent of Sergey Parajanov. This strange way of story-telling contrasts sharply with the realistic depiction of its set, a compound made of clay in the mountains. This mixture of stunning visuals and a very unique filmic language made up for a gripping experience, although I have to admit that I did not understand much of what was going on. Mohammad tells the story of two boys and their initiation into life: One is concerned with his love for an orphan girl living in the household, the other approaches maturity when he sacrifices a cow. But there is also a war (with Israel) going on in the background of the story; one of the boys gets possessed by his grandfather; misunderstandings, doubt and tensions dominate family life: It's not an image of cute rural harmony we meet here. To fully appreciate the film, one needs at least two viewings, some knowledge about Islam and politics in Syria and sensitivity to Muhammad's peculiar symbolism. One may object that the film is too dead-serious about its high ambitions, even a bit pretentious; so people who can't do without a laugh should stay away. For everybody curious about new and unique ways of story-telling, it is truly recommended.

Just what we need, one more made-for-festival art film with portentous photography and elliptical dialogue. In true art flick fashion unseen hands open and close doors, white doves flutter through on cue and dry-ice fog wafts by.

Unfortunately it's all been done before.

What a shame to waste such marvelous Syrian actors with amazingly expressive faces. No wonder it's never been shown in director Oussama Mohammad's homeland--everyone would walk out.

A surreal depiction of life in a village out of a strikingly beautiful Syrian landscape. Oussama Mohammad's immensely visual representation of love, hate, violence and family relationships is no less than a masterpiece... and I am using this word here without any reservations! While I usually feel more at home with popular cinema, this particular film is among the very few films, and maybe even the only film within the surrealist tradition that made me feel as enthralled as I did when I first saw Bunuel's 1933 masterpiece 'Land without Bread'.

Every single shot in the film is an equivalent to an elaborate canvas which brings forwards the harsh yet captivating detailed textures of life and culture in a timeless small Arab peasant village, all set to the background of the Syrian mountain region facing the Mediterranean. If it wasn't for traditional anti-Arab bias in Film Festival circles, this film would have been appreciated as one of the most important cinematic events at least over the last ten years.