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et another film, a documentary this time, has won an award at the Venice Film Festival.
Many films, some quasi-documentary and others entirely so, have been given the recognition they deserve, particularly because they are based directly on the tragic events of the past two years. These stories mirror the long and painful history of the Palestinian people since the end of the World War I.
The Voice of Hind Rajab, directed by Kaouther Ben Hania, tells the story of a six-year-old girl who suffers immensely in the war, ultimately paying the highest price. The film brings home the horrors of a conflict which, in many ways, has surpassed any in modern times.
All wars are devastating, eroding human values. This one, more than any other in recent memory, has deeply lacerated the human conscience.
Since the beginning of cinema, the determining measure of success has been the box office. Over time, this was seen as overly commercial, creating the need for film festivals where critics and scholars could judge films on artistic merit. Awards like the Oscars, in a sense, offer a balance between artistic recognition and commercial success. The most avant-garde festival remains the one at Cannes in France, which maintains a certain disdain for popular cinema.
Public protests have been staged, mostly in Western countries and a few tentatively elsewhere, least of all in Muslim countries. Their impact has rarely been decisive, raising questions about the effectiveness of such efforts. Similarly, much has been written and many documentaries have been made, but they have often fallen on deaf ears among those who matter most in this war.
All wars are devastating, eroding human values. But this one, perhaps more than any other in recent memory, has deeply lacerated the human conscience.
This also calls into question the value of what is treated as “good art” and its influence on unfolding events. Many in the past have argued for a close connection between art and reality, hoping that the two share a mutually reinforcing relationship, that dreams and desires for a better world might, in the end, help transform it into a more humane place for us all.
This simplistic one-to-one relationship has motivated many to align themselves with causes, religious or revolutionary, but the outcome has often been only good art, with little imprint on events on the ground.
This supports the stance of those who argue that art and real-world events are unrelated, with neither having a decisive impact on the other. Instead, they run in parallel, each independent in its own way.
Perhaps their parameters are different and their value is measured by separate standards. The two fail to coincide, let alone coalesce, remaining divergent streams whose concerns do not flow into one another, despite good intentions.
There is also a theory that an excess of human emotion is the wellspring of creativity, whether rooted in happiness or misery. Since misery is more widespread, it continues to fuel much of what we call art.
The writer is a Lahore-based culture critic.