20/02/2025 - BERLINALE 2025: It was a risky move for Ameer Fakher Eldin to make a subdued film about an exiled writer who’s lost his inspiration and the will to live; sadly, the gamble did not pay off

When a lead character doesn’t say much, and his inner state is dominated by depression, sadness and loss, it may be unsurprising that the audience would have a hard time connecting with him and may struggle to engage with the film. Unfortunately, this is the result of Ameer Fakher Eldin’s sophomore effort, Yunan, which is part of the competition of the 75th Berlinale.

Despite a plethora of visually compelling images that aptly convey the melancholic mood of the main character, little more has gestated here. The style and tone are consistent with the story that Fakher Eldin penned, and if his genuine ambition was to enable the audience to experience the spite and frustration that consume Yunan’s protagonist, an exiled writer, he has undoubtedly succeeded. Yunan requires a great deal of energy and focus during its two-hour running time, yet it offers a tiny pay-off. But it’s still probably a better result than leaving the audience totally empty-handed.

The story revolves around Munir (Georges Khabbaz), who has lost his zest for life. When we meet him, he is undergoing a medical examination for shortness of breath, and has all physical grounds ruled out. It seems as though the lack of breath that Munir is suffering from has a different cause. We don’t get to learn much about him – he has a sister who stayed in his home country, and a mother, who is slowly becoming detached from the world owing to her dementia.

Munir, who lives in a large German metropolis, heads to a small, windy and cloudy island – most likely to sign off from life. He stays at a small guesthouse, whose owner, Valeska (Hanna Schygulla), after initially keeping a distance, shows him warmth and compassion, and this will be a game changer. Meanwhile, Munir immerses himself more deeply in the tiny local community, led by Valeska’s son (Tom Wlaschiha). While trying to navigate all of this, he is haunted by a ghostly story of a shepherd and his wife; a story that he was once told by his mother, but most of the details are missing. Tracking down what was lost – the story, his feeling of belonging, his inspiration – becomes the purpose of Munir’s journey during his stay on the island, as his writer’s block continues.

The scarcity of words in the film is compensated for by the images. The primary form of communication in Yunan is visual, encompassing many long shots of the landscape. Everything is steeped in cold hues: greys, greens and, of course, blues. If there is one picture that represents Munir’s inner state in an accurate way that will resonate with the viewer, it’s one with a sky laden with thick clouds.

Cinematographer Ronald Plante does an impressive job, but again, there is something inherently cold about the beauty he captures. The silence and empty sadness are all-consuming, and this is most likely the reason for the film’s failure to engage us. Some silences are emotionally charged and resonate strongly, while others are just devoid of any tension. And when artistic risks are taken, failure is a real possibility.

Yunan is a joint effort between Germany, Canada, Italy, Palestine, Qatar, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. The film was produced by Red Balloon Film, Microclimat Film and Intramovies. The co-producers are Fresco Films, Metafora Productions and Tabi360. Its world sales are handled by Intramovies, while Mad Sales holds the MENA rights.