As a devoted movie enthusiast, I rarely find myself writing about a film review turning into an obituary, but regrettably, that’s the grim reality for Iranian director Sepideh Farsi’s latest documentary, titled Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk. Just two days after announcing the movie in Cannes’ ACID sidebar, another announcement came, informing us of the tragic loss of its main subject, 25-year-old Palestinian photojournalist Fatma Hassona. She was taken from us by the Israeli Defense Forces, along with several members of her family.
It’s even more heartbreaking to learn that Hassona, who we come to know through numerous video calls compiled by Farsi into a full-length conversation, seemed to anticipate her own demise. During one of many candid conversations over FaceTime (or similar platforms), she shares with the director: “There are multiple ways to die here in Gaza,” outlining the ongoing bombings, shootings, illnesses, and hunger that have severely impacted her community for more than a year and a half. Not long after, she reveals her 8-year-old niece often says, “I want to die,” as if it were a desirable outcome.
The film by Farsi carries an ever-present shadow of death, even as it unfolds and concludes. However, Hassona, far from being a pessimist, was instead striving to infuse life into the seemingly lifeless. In her powerful yet imperfect English, she expresses this with a broad grin and laughter, saying, “I am trying to find some life in this which appears dead.
The final statement also reflects her description of her role as an amateur photojournalist, capturing the widespread devastation that surrounds her. Amongst numerous video conversations, Farsi frequently incorporates Hassona’s photos, which undeniably depict glimmers of life – children at play, men vending goods, women transporting water or supplies – amid the disorder and remnants of destruction.
What stands out in “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk,” a film titled to represent Hassona’s dangerous outdoor journeys, is its ability to make viewers feel the raw and recurring themes of death and destruction that the main character encounters.
In April 2024, Farsi, who initially failed to gain entry into Rafah, commenced a series of lengthy video chats with a young woman that continued until October. This spanned approximately a year following the Hamas-instigated massacre of Israelis which sparked the ongoing conflict. Throughout these talks, often disrupted by internet issues or bombings, we observe Hossana and her family struggling to maintain their lives day by day, month by month, and eventually year by year, as they strive to survive amidst the deteriorating city around them.
As I, an ardent admirer, listen to the photographer casually discuss her everyday turmoil – “that’s just how it is,” she nonchantly remarks with a grin – I find myself surprisingly acclimating. At one instance, I overhear a sound outside an apartment where Hassona sought refuge, inquiring about its origin. “Apache helicopters,” the girl explains matter-of-factly. “What are they used for?” I ask curiously. Hassona regards me as if explaining something straightforward to a simpleton: “To eliminate us,” she says, still grinning.
The Farsi film might appear simplistic in structure and occasionally redundant, yet this simplicity seems intentional. There’s no need for additional layers as the conversations are strikingly honest. At its peak, the director intersperses short clips from news reports, all captured with her phone, offering a broader perspective – a backdrop for this deeply personal portrayal of a talented young woman enduring hell, yet managing to find hope.
Despite this, it’s important to note that Hassona doesn’t always maintain a positive outlook, and there are instances when she feels despair, particularly following the deaths of friends or family members. Additionally, while she typically avoids discussing the lengthy history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, she does express her discontent towards Hamas leader Yahya Al-Sinwar at one point, who later met his end as well.
Walk with Your Heart on Sleeve instead of a Factual Exposé, this film serves as an uncensored testament, chronicling a devastating event that remains ongoing as I pen this review. The movie, along with Hassona’s striking images, will eventually become part of the historical narrative concerning Gaza – a story that, in essence, speaks to the state of our entire civilization.
In simpler terms, Hassona expressed that if peace comes to Palestine, it will spread everywhere else. Her statement had a hint of hope but also reflected her deep concern about the current situation in the region. Later on, during one of her final discussions with the director, months before she was tragically killed herself, Hassona spoke optimistically about the future, expressing her desire to someday share her experiences and survival story with her children.
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2025-05-15 13:54