Hind’s voice stuns the Venice Film Festival with her cry against the genocide in Gaza: “How have we allowed a girl to plead for her life?” (\u00a0\u00a0*)<\/p>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
The question remains the same: how to showcase the \u00a0atrocities\u00a0 without turning them into a spectacle, avoiding the sensationalism that often pervades media portrayals of tragedy. La voz de Hind,<\/i> directed by Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania<\/strong>, reflects on one of the most heart-wrenching episodes of the ongoing genocide that is perpetually broadcast and witnessed in Gaza. On January 29, 2024, the titular girl, a six-year-old named Hind, was tragically killed alongside her two uncles and four cousins by the Israeli army in the Gaza neighborhood of Tel al-Hawa. Notably, the ambulance that attempted to reach them was also obliterated, suffering a barrage of 355 bullets that targeted the car carrying the Rajab family. The film, shot entirely at the emergency center of the Red Crescent, refrains from displaying rubble, destruction, blood, or threatening soldiers. Instead, it presents a \u00a0voice\u00a0, the sustained cry for help from Hind Rajab, juxtaposed with the \u00a0mute despair\u00a0 of those around her. Nothing more.<\/p>\n What remains is a powerful statement received with a standing ovation in the press room\u2014not born from mere enthusiasm, but rather from a deep sense of \u00a0anger\u00a0\u2014long after the film’s brief duration concluded. As the film’s team entered the familiar ritual of addressing the media, actress Saja Kilani seized the microphone, declaring, “Enough of killings, famine, dehumanization, destruction, and ongoing occupation.”<\/strong> Time will pass, and the 2025 Venice Film Festival will forever be synonymous with La voz de Hind.<\/i> The prospect of an \u00a0unmistakable\u00a0 Golden Lion is hard to imagine.<\/p>\n This film can be seen as an \u00a0outcome\u00a0, rather than a continuation, of the cinematic journey Kaouther Ben Hania has embarked upon thus far. The director of The Man Who Sold His Skin<\/i> and Four Daughters<\/i> resists the urgency of her narrative, insisting on weaving \u00a0reality and fiction\u00a0 in a masterful interplay of what is genuine and what is indispensable, merging raw emotion with fundamental truths. The film clearly states that it is inspired by \u00a0real events\u00a0, but this time it transcends the conventional disclaimer that often reflects skepticism about authenticity in fiction.<\/p>\n The facts remain intact; the voices heard are recorded inside the Red Crescent facilities from the day of the tragic event. The actors embody their characters with a gentle touch, ensuring it is evident at all times that they are performers \u00a0representing lives\u00a0 that aren\u2019t their own. At times, a mobile phone screen flashes images of the real protagonists overlaid on the actors, allowing the director’s perspective to seep into the frame. This might sound complicated, perhaps labyrinthine, but in truth, it is wonderfully clear.<\/strong><\/p>\n In Four Daughters,<\/i> an Oscar-nominated documentary, a similar device was employed. The film narrates the story of Olfa Hamrouni, who gained painful notoriety in 2016 as she condemned her government for failing to prevent two of her four daughters from joining the Islamic State. In a poignant move, the director had two actresses (Nour Karoui and Ichraq Matar) interpret the missing women, while their sisters played their roles both in \u00a0reality and fiction\u00a0. Even Olfa depicted herself, but during critical moments, actress Hen Sabry borrowed her life. And all this took place while the film was actively being shot.<\/p>\n The approach now is simpler but remains tremendously \u00a0direct\u00a0 and infinitely more brutal. It is not just about the effect of everyday televised barbarity from Palestine, but also about the \u00a0devastating power\u00a0 of what is imagined from the audience\u2019s seat.<\/strong> What truly matters is not solely what is seen but what \u00a0exists\u00a0 before an audience that only listens: an experience of profoundly \u00a0emotional cinema\u00a0 that traverses the backdrop where the most fearsome monsters reside, aiming right into the \u00a0rawness\u00a0 of tragedy. It is both dreadful and unbearable.<\/p>\n The same actress who quickly responded to the media’s appreciative applause made it clear: “Hind\u2019s story is about a girl who cries. And the real question is: how have we allowed a child to plead for her life?”<\/strong> Nobody can live in peace while even a single child is compelled to implore for survival. Next to her, the director, taking a more educational tone, chose to express gratitude: “The strong desire and feelings of \u00a0anger and helplessness\u00a0 were what inspired this movie. But I was surrounded by wonderful people, fully supported by Hind\u2019s mother and family, as well as all the Red Crescent workers, who are the true heroes of this story.”<\/p>\n Initially, the project faced significant challenges, struggling to move forward without outside support. Just last week, notable figures including Brad Pitt, Joaquin Phoenix, Rooney Mara, Alfonso Cuar\u00f3n, and Jonathan Glazer agreed to come on board as \u00a0executive producers\u00a0. Phoenix even took the extra step to be present at the press conference.<\/strong><\/p>\n The resulting film has already left an indelible mark on Venice, shaping the year’s cinematic landscape. It is impossible to behold without feeling a profound sense of \u00a0shame\u00a0 and \u00a0embarrassment\u00a0; a film that transcends mere storytelling, resonating deeply with its audience. It is a film that aches and compels contemplation; one that is undeniably projected into a shared, essential space. This, without a doubt, becomes a collective guilt for all.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n