I sort of loathe reading most accounts of history and politics. History and politics are two great humanity-shaping forces, and I recognize the importance of absorbing such information. But all too often, these accounts are poorly written: arid deserts of facts and dates, with no mention of stories of the actual people who lived out these events. Now that I’m in my thirties, I’ve cultivated more of a mature interest in these subjects by reading the newspaper, and listening to NPR and a few podcasts.Even so, his or her story will always spark my concern of worldwide tumult before arguing talking heads.
The Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy broke my heart with the beautiful epic of Kristin’s life in medieval Norway. I read the Maus graphic novels, and saw Schindler’s List, and was forever fascinated by the tragedy of the Holocaust. The Persepolis memoir-graphic novels helped me understand the mayhem of Iran’s history; Khaled Hosseini’s novels did the same for Afghanistan. Art helps us to see, to live a better life, and good stories help me understand the world.
The Arab-Israeli conflict has constantly been in the headlines as long as I can remember, and before then. The contention has always been about land: this land is not your land, this land is my land. The genesis of the entire clash can be traced back to the late 19th century when Zionists purchased land from the Ottoman sultan, but the fire of the modern day conflict as we know it was lit in 1948 when the UN created the State of Israel after WWII, displacing countless Palestinians and furthering their hatred of the Jews. Unceasing hostility led to the Six-Day War in 1967 which Israel not only won, but they also seized extra land – the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Believing these regions to be rightful spoils of war, the Israelis built small settlements to secure their possession.
But this friction was not palpable to me until I watched The Band’s Visit, Israeli filmmaker Eran Kolirin’s debut feature, quite the opposite of a war movie, framed with bleak beauty. The film begins with the introductory narration printed in both Hebrew and Arabic on a quiet black screen, and the English subtitles read:
Once, not long ago, a small Egyptian
police band arrived in Israel.
Not many remember this,
it was not that important.
A sad, slow piano tune begins, and the band suddenly appears in blue uniforms, looking around in confusion at the hushed airport. They check their watches, and look expectantly for a ride. They were scheduled to play at the opening of an Arab cultural center, but due to poor communication, nobody was there holding a sign. Tension is thick in the air as Lt.-Colonel Tawfiq, the conductor, argues with another band member, Simon: Shall they call the Embassy, or try to manage on their own? Their Egyptian pride is evident, but so also is the extreme awkwardness of being dangerously stranded in Israel.
Sasson Gabai as Tewfiq Ronit Elkabetz as Dina
and Saleh Bakri as Haled
Tawfiq orders the handsome violinist, Haled, to verify their intended destination of Petah Tiqva, but his comical flirting with the woman at the ticket counter results in the band arriving at the town of Beit Hatikva, in the middle of nowhere – one of the aforementioned Israeli settlements. The Alexandria Ceremonial Police Orchestra is dropped off right in front of a common diner owned by a brazen, sensual woman, Dina, who said, “There is no Arab center here. No culture, no Israeli culture, no Arab – no culture at all.” Clearly bored with her uneventful life, she stares at Tawfiq in amusement as he asks her if they could have something to eat, pay in Egyptian money? Upon telling the Colonel that the next bus doesn’t roll by until the morning, a glimmer of sympathy flickers across her face. She offers her home to Tawfiq and Haled, and convinces two friends to do the same for the rest of the band, much to her friends’ protest.
They all begin to communicate in English and the subtitles disappear, the first subtle clue of what is to come. Each pairing of the characters is a set-up for disaster, yet their immersion into each other’s lives produces scenes full of unexpected warmth and absurd humor. Dina takes Tawfiq to a small restaurant, encouraging him to ignore raised eyebrows, saying that her neighbors live in the Stone Age. Tawfiq unchisels his mental blocks against her gender, race, and immorality. Overnight, he grows to romantically respect her and see past her wayward behavior to who she might truly be. His forgiving eye beautifully balances how Dina’s kind, free-spirited personality melts his rough exterior. After all, director Kolirin did say, “The language of the film is a fairy tale.”
Haled invites himself out with a set of double daters to a roller skating rink, and instead of seducing a woman as he usually does, he teaches the ways of romance to one of the clueless guys. Simon and the rest of the band find themselves in the home of a less than ideal marriage, accidentally barging in on the wife’s birthday celebration. What could have ended with clenched fists, fighting, or worse turned into a portrayal of grace. The small Israeli community welcomed their enemy, and the Arabs gradually cast off their fear and suspicion – all due to the art of hospitality. It’s an inspiring peek into what could happen if we all opened our doors to a controversial stranger.
Going on blaring headlines alone, one would think that Palestinians and Israelis are destined for perpetual racial cacophony. Yet this film presents a world that ought to be, and already is in parts of the Middle East. In the documentary on The Band’s Visit DVD, I was surprised to learn that even the making-of process reflected the deep beauty of the film, a healing of racism. Palestinian and Israeli actors worked in harmony together, the most surprising being Sasson Gabai, one of Israel’s leading actors who played Egyptian Lt.-Colonel Tawfiq. As Jewish actress Ronit Elkabetz (“Dina”) said, “This meeting between Palestinian and Israeli artists . . . there’s nothing more lofty and more wonderful than our ability to be with each other and create. Why, this is the cure for everything.” The director stated that he didn’t set out to make another “Arab and Jew” film; he and the actors believed they came together to find their own truth inside each and every soul. In my opinion, they uncovered the truth – that all things are possible: Arabs and Jews can overcome the world, conquer politics and hatred, extend simple kindness, and stand alongside one another.
Ronit Elkabetz as Dina
and Sasson Gabai as Tawfiq
The Band’s Visit communicates all of this with a lonely, quiet allure, which is interesting in a film featuring a band of musicians. It’s as if music is another restrained voice in the film. There are times when people just stop and hear music. Dina requests a ballad to play overhead in the restaurant, to flirt with Tawfiq. In the tense, dysfunctional Israeli home, Arab band member Simon plays a bit of his symphony-in-the-works on the clarinet. In another scene, nameless band members sit under a silent night sky and play their instruments, which seems to comfort them in an unknown land. Even Haled’s shameless flirting involved the pickup line, “Do you like Chet Baker? ‘My Funny Valentine‘?”
At one point, it’s revealed that the police orchestra might be disbanded for the sake of economy and efficiency. Tawfiq protests this notion, and the soundtrack does, too: the music leading up to the band’s performance at the end is a lovely traditional Egyptian song with exotic instruments such as contrabass, goblet drum (darbuka), and a qanun. This small orchestra audibly teaches us that unlike the beginning narration stated, their arrival in the wrong town is important. They share culture with Dina and her community who were previously deprived, and both clans mutually surrender their racism. As music is crucial to the healing of these awkward relationships, so may art be for the world as we try to forbear with strangers, and love our neighbor as ourselves.