17/07/2021 - CANNES 2021: Israeli director Eran Kolirin returns with a fitfully amusing comedy-drama about the fortunes of a small Arab-majority village in Israel

When the land upon which you walk has been fought over for centuries, and territorial boundaries are quickly coming apart, what does it mean to make a commitment for the future? What does it mean for instance, as in Let It Be Morning [+see also:
trailer
film profile], to celebrate a wedding, or to create a dubious property investment while Palestinian land is shrinking, even within its official, Oslo Accords-enforced boundaries. Eran Kolirin makes a confident return to Cannes’ Un Certain Regard section with this, his fourth feature, which reprises some of the claustrophobic and comic feel of his 2007 breakthrough The Band’s Visit [+see also:
trailer
film profile]. This new film portrays the current predicament in Israel-Palestine in a slicker, more audience-friendly way, compared to the sundry documentaries on the subject, although it does feel like it is preaching to the converted.

The literal Israeli-Palestinian collaboration in this film is noteworthy: the source novel comes from well-known Palestinian author and journalist Sayed Kashua, written in Hebrew as an ironic, politicised gesture; then adapted by the Israeli Kolerin. Beyond the Israeli-French co-production, in the logos before the film’s beginning, we find the imprint of a large Jewish Community centre in New York. In a world where more and more Jews are turning politically to the left when it comes to this conflict, Let It Be Morning further visualises for them and other international viewers the brutality of living under constant military rule, surveillance and disruption. For those with a greater affinity for Palestine, this is far from revelatory, and the film’s denouement in particular will look like a far-fetched, false dawn of hope.

The film is beautifully acted, although in roles that often lean towards heightened caricature. First among equals is Sami (Alex Bakri), a quite staggeringly handsome Israeli Arab tech worker returning to his home village to celebrate the wedding of his older brother Aziz (Samer Bisharat). He is growing apart from his wife Mira (Juna Suleiman), and conducting an affair with an Israeli woman; forces and allegiances both social and sexual are biting at his ankles. But tension brews as Israeli forces catch wind of West Bank Palestinians working there without a full residence permit, employed on the vast property Sami and another relative have invested in. This isn’t a Covid-era film, but there is an extra frisson hearing the word ‘lockdown’ spoken so many times: the village is soon surrounded by IDF ground troops, as if part of the Palestinian Territories; electricity is shut off; and supply runs are banned from entering. The move is as much a provocation as it is a punishment; at various stages of the story, a bevy of protesters head to the auxiliary border, and the military is merciless.

Let It Be Morning is also about conformity and solidarity within Arab and Palestinian communities. Amongst the more affluent middle-class, to which Sami’s extended family belong, there is an existential quandary about how the status quo may well be in their best interests. For Sami, to witness how different his life is from that of his peers sends an onrush of guilt. And once the military blockade begins, he is faced with reminders of the precarious nature of his life in Jerusalem: the final implication is that he will return ‘home’, after realising why radicalism and protest are the only viable strategies for the Israeli Arabs and Palestinians who are less fortunate than he is. That Kolirin presents this largely as droll comedy is a mixed blessing.

Let It Be Morning is a co-production between Israel and France. It was produced for Dori Media by Nadav Palti, with Les Films du Poisson as co-producers. The Match Factory are handling world sales.