Parallel Time
On the Gaza genocide, and films by Kamal Aljafari, Basma Alsharif, Sepideh Farsi (with Fatma Hassouna),
an essay about Palestine at the NYFF63 (and Walid Daqqa’s ‘prison without a door’),for Film Comment
Nour Bishouty, 1-130: Selected works Ghassan Bishouty b. 1941 Safad, Palestine – d. 2004 Amman, Jordan, ed. Jacob Korczynski (Art Metropole / Motto Books, 2020). Photograph: Sara Maston.
Excerpt
“Our time does not proceed on the axis of past and present and future,” wrote the Palestinian political prisoner and novelist Walid Daqqa, nearly 20 years into what would become a life sentence. Daqqa poignantly contrasted the “parallel time” of prison, stretching out indefinitely though never moving forward, with the chronological time outside; yet he understood well that for Palestinians, prison does not end at the cell doors. Later, reflecting on his young daughter’s intuitive understanding of his condition, Daqqa would define prison as a “place without a door.” It’s a phrase that distills much about Palestinian existence under Israeli occupation, particularly, though not only, for those holding onto life in the besieged rubble of Gaza today.
[…] Much of With Hasan’s pathos lies in our anachronistic encounter with Gaza’s once-vibrant streets and souks, where smiling children play and fresh vegetables abound. But the rubble, subjugation, and poverty wrought by Israeli occupation are here too; With Hasan cannot escape from Daqqa’s prison, which is both its subject and the prism through which we see Gaza. Aljafari’s first images are of the Israeli military infrastructure through which he passes to enter Gaza; zooming in on an unattended checkpoint, it is as if he seizes the role of the watcher only to exorcise the surveillant gaze. From here on, Aljafari gives us an intimate record of two days and two nights in Gaza, with his friend and guide Hasan Elboubou and himself serving as our companions.
Rarely in cinema is Gaza granted the care of close, tender observation that seeks to know the place from the perspective of a neighbor and friend rather than a journalist or emergency worker. (Important exceptions include Abdel Salam Shehada’s wistful 2008 documentary To My Father and Michel Khleifi’s wondrous 1995 drama Tale of the Three Jewels, the first narrative feature shot entirely in Gaza.) With Hasan is poignant not only because it depicts Gaza before its annihilation, but because Aljafari explores its lifeworlds with a loving curiosity that has nothing to do with saving it or speaking on its behalf. His camera is tactile and active; we feel we are running our hands along the walls of narrow alleyways, idling in a café watching men play cards, or sitting in the passenger seat of a car and gazing out its window.
This article appeared in the October 3, 2025 edition of The Film Comment Letter, our free weekly newsletter featuring original film criticism and writing. Sign up for the Letter here.